Chapter 7 Threshold Ronan didn’t rush. He stepped inside slow, like the floor might crack under him, and closed the door with a soft click that sounded too loud in the quiet apartment. The lock turned. The world shrank to just the two of them—Jax on the floor in a towel, skin flushed and damp, breathing shallow; Ronan still in his coat, frost melting on the shoulders, eyes fixed on Jax like he was afraid to blink. Jax couldn’t look away either. The alpha’s scent rolled in with him—pine, smoke, leather, something darker underneath like storm clouds over a forest. It hit Jax’s gland like a punch, made the ache between his legs clench hard enough that he had to press his thighs together. Slick leaked fresh, soaking the towel under him. He hated how obvious it was. Hated how much he wanted Ronan to notice. Ronan crouched, slow, keeping distance at first. Knees on the floor, coat pooling around him. Close enough now that Jax could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands flexed
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