Sage had retreated to her bedroom shortly after their make-out session in the kitchen, a lingering flush on her cheeks and her lips swollen from Jaxon's mouth. Her pulse still thrummed with every memory of his hands on her waist, the way he had pressed her against the counter like he couldn't get enough.
She sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers at the clasp of her bra, feeling the air brush over her bare skin as she slid it off. Her shirt lay discarded on the floor. She exhaled slowly, needing to cool down, but her body betrayed her. Heat still pooled in her stomach.
Jaxon, meanwhile, stood at the kitchen sink his fingers gripping the counter. His mind replayed every second of what had just happened—Sage's body pressed to his, her soft breath against his cheek, the way she gasped when his hands wandered. He hadn't meant to go that far. But everything about her unspooled his restraint.
He shook his head, trying to refocus. He needed to ask her something— He padded down the hall barefoot, calling her name.
"Sage?"
He knocked gently.
The door wasn't fully shut.
"Hey, I just wanted to—"
He pushed the door open.
And stopped.
The air left his lungs.
Sage stood by her bed, in nothing but a pair of soft cotton underwear. Her back was slightly turned, but when she twisted at the sound of his voice, he got a full view—her bare chest.
Jaxon froze, his throat suddenly dry. "Shit—I didn't mean to—sorry," he mumbled, spinning half around.
But her voice cut through the air.
"Wait."
He stopped mid-turn, his pulse hammering in his ears.
When he glanced back, Sage had taken a step closer, her eyes searching his face.
"Don't go," she whispered.
Jaxon's brows drew together. "Sage…"
She stepped forward again, her expression unreadable, but her eyes burned with something . And then, before he could react, her hand reached for his wrist, she placed his palm against the soft swell of her breast.
He inhaled sharply.
Her skin was warm—warmer than anything he'd touched before, and his fingers instinctively curled, cupping her gently. She let out a breathy sound, not quite a moan, but not far from it.
Jaxon's mind reeled. He had imagined her—fantasized more times than he could count—but nothing prepared him for the reality of Sage standing before him like this, so open.
His hand slid upward, brushing her collarbone, then down again, thumbing the side of her breast. She shivered.
"I don't want to stop this time," she whispered, leaning into his touch.
He stepped closer, slowly, not wanting to break the fragile magic between them. His other hand came up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Are you sure?"
She nodded, biting her bottom lip. "Are you?"
"I've never been more sure of anything."
He kissed her. His hands roamed her bare back, and she pressed against him, welcoming the friction of his clothes against her bare skin.
Sage's fingers tangled in the hem of his shirt, tugging it up. He let her lift it over his head, their eyes locking again as the shirt dropped to the floor. Her hands skimmed over his chest, feeling the solid lines of his muscle and the way he inhaled sharply at her touch.
"Jaxon…" she murmured his name
He reached down and lifted her, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. She gasped softly, clutching his shoulders as he walked them to the bed.
He hovered above her, drinking in every detail—the flush across her cheeks, the rise and fall of her chest, the way her pupils dilated when he kissed the corner of her jaw, then trailed lower, down her throat, over the soft curve of her chest.
Her fingers tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants. He didn't hesitate his clothes joined the pile on the floor.
Jaxon kissed her again, deeper this time, and Sage arched against him. Every movement sent a spark through her nerves. Her breath hitched as his hands explored her slowly.
"Sage," he said into her skin his voice low and hoarse, "tell me if you want to stop. I'll stop."
But she only pulled him closer, guiding him in with a whisper, "Don't stop."
The first moment of connection was slow, almost agonizing. Her nails dug into his shoulder as she adjusted, breathing deeply, clinging to him. He paused, looking into her eyes.
"Okay?" he asked his voice tight.
She nodded, pulling his mouth back to hers.
The room was silent except for their breath, the creak of the mattress, and the occasional gasp. Time blurred. Nothing existed outside the moment—just skin on skin and bitten-back moans.
He traced patterns over her skin his lips finding every place that made her gasp or shiver.
And when they reached the peak together, it felt like the world melted around them.
After, Jaxon lay beside her, his chest still heaving his arm draped across her waist.
Sage curled into him her head on his shoulder.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
When Jaxon finally broke the silence, his voice was soft. "I didn't plan this."
She smiled against his skin. "Me neither."
His fingers traced small circles on her hip. "But I don't regret it."
She looked up at him. "Good. Because neither do I."
He leaned down to kiss her forehead. Her eyes fluttered closed.