2 Felt wanted

My feet finally remembered what to do.

I ran.

Down the stairs, tears blurring everything. Someone stuck their leg out as I passed—whether on purpose or not, I didn’t know—and I went down hard.

The crash of bottles breaking beneath me was deafening. Pain shot up my arms as shards bit into my skin.

The whole house was now quiet, all eyes turned to me as I became the most gossip-worthy subject in the house. 

“Are you kidding me, Avery?” Ethan’s voice, sharp and disgusted, cut through the noise. He tried to keep his voice as low as possible.

“What the fuck are you even doing here? We don’t talk to each other at school, you know that. How dare you crash my party? You know better than to embarrass me!”

Suddenly I’m too emotionally exhausted to lift a finger. A sharp pain shivered through my back. There must be tiny shards of glass still stuck in there. The blood dripping on the floor, making a small puddle.

Ethan shivered a bit at the sight. But he didn’t stop pushing me around. “Go home, you are ruining the party.” He said as he tried to force me out, pushing my back. His palm was right on the wound on my back, making it extra painful.  

All my fellow schoolmates are circling us, watching the farce.

“OMG, that’s so pathetic”. Someone in the crowd says that.. The mix of alcohol and blood dripping down the hem of my coat.  I’ve never been so humiliated before.

“That’s enough.” A voice came. Low. yet domineering. I looked up, trying to figure out where the voice came from through my wet hair.

Jaxon.

He still wears that nonchalant grin on his lips, but it’s getting tighter. Somehow he managed to deliver a face as cold as a slab while not diminishing the smile. He shoved Ethan aside, his hand already reaching for me.

Wait, what?

I hear a few gasps as Jaxon stands in front of me. Girls were glaring and some people where watching the scene with their mouths hanging open

Before I knew it, he’d scooped me up, his arm steady around my back as he carried me upstairs, away from the crowd, into a quiet room.

His arms are unbelievably warm and steady. I felt like I was in a dream. It’s not like Jaxon AT ALL. From all I heard, he never cared enough to meddle in anyone’s business. Did I hallucinate? Did we have some unbeknownst encounter before that I completely forgot?

The bathroom light flickered on, and he set me gently on the counter. I watched through blurred eyes as he wet a cloth under the faucet, his movements deliberate and controlled, like someone trying very hard not to shatter the fragile quiet between us. My heart was pounding, each beat thudding painfully in my chest as I sat there on the cool countertop, my breath coming shallow and uneven.

When he turned back to me, the sight of him made my stomach tighten—his dark hair falling slightly into his eyes, his jaw tight, his mouth set in a line that was almost too hard, like he was holding something back. His gaze dropped to my legs as he knelt in front of me, and I couldn’t help but flinch slightly as the damp cloth pressed against the angry cut on my knee.

But his touch was careful. Almost tender.

Each time the cloth brushed my skin, it sent little shocks through me—not of pain, but something else entirely. Something hotter. Something that left my hands gripping the edge of the counter as though it were the only thing keeping me grounded.

He worked in silence, cleaning one knee, then the other, before moving to my hands. I watched him through my lashes, my chest rising and falling too quickly, my cheeks warm under his focus. The way he handled my hands was devastatingly gentle, as though the smallest misstep would hurt me—and yet the pads of his fingers were firm and sure, rolling a shard of glass out of my palm before wiping it clean.

“Why… why are you doing this?” I whispered, my voice breaking and sounding so small in the quiet of the room.

His hands stilled. Slowly, he raised his head, and the look in his eyes when they met mine made my breath catch in my throat.

“You know me, I’m a damned hopeless knight in shining armor just waiting to rescue some unfortunate maiden.” He waved an exaggerated gesture that perfectly delivered a sarcastic undertone.

Right, and he’s ever so serious. I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh. No matter what he said, he did just save me from public humiliation.

His fingers grazing lightly along my temple, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear with a slowness that felt deliberate, almost reverent. His thumb lingered on my cheek, stroking lightly, and I swore I could feel it all the way down my spine.

“What really matters is you are here. And I am here. Isn’t it a strange coincidence?” he murmured.

Damn, he really is a master womanizer.

The world narrowed to the space between us. I’ve never felt so turned on and soft and sour at the same time. 

So I did the next sensible thing. I leaned in and closed the distance between us.

The first brush of his mouth against mine was featherlight—testing, searching, like he was asking a question without words. It was soft at first, just a tentative press of lips, but even then I felt the air between us crackle and spark, my fingers curling helplessly into his shirt.

When he kissed me again, it was deeper and hungrier, and my whole body responded before my mind could catch up. Heat flooded through me, making my skin tingle and my chest ache. I let out a soft, broken sound, and that seemed to undo something in him.

His hands slid to my hips, fingers tightening there as he pulled me forward against him, the hard lines of his body pressing into mine. I gasped softly against his mouth, and he groaned low in his throat, his hands moving lower, cupping the curve of my ass firmly and squeezing as though he couldn’t help himself.

The sound that escaped me then was involuntary—a breathy little whimper that made his grip tighten even more.

“God,” he muttered roughly, his lips trailing fire along my jaw, then lower, to my neck. Every brush of his mouth sent little shocks of pleasure skittering through me, my legs tightening instinctively around his waist.

He slid his hands under me and lifted me as though I weighed nothing, his lips still on my throat, his breath hot and uneven. My arms wrapped around his shoulders as he carried me a few steps to the bed.

He set me down with a kind of gentleness that didn’t match the fire burning in his eyes. My back hit the mattress, and for a long, breathless second, he just hovered above me, his chest rising and falling fast, his gaze roaming over me like he was trying to memorize everything at once.

And then his lips were on mine again—rougher this time, hungrier, like he’d been holding himself back for 

far too long and couldn’t anymore.

The kiss deepened, his hands sliding into my hair, down my sides, and back to my hips. His body pressed me into the mattress, warm and solid and unyielding, and all I could do was cling to him as the world outside the room disappeared completely