Alpha Jax
In another hour, they’ll be completely gone, like they weren’t even there.
Jessie walks away to dispose of the bloody gauze and towels, and I pull my t-shirt back on, rising to my feet from the bench. Jax is just standing there, staring at me, his expression unreadable. Our eyes meet and he gently sweeps his fingertips across the back of my hand.
“Quinn…” he murmurs, his voice low.
“Jaxon.” My own voice is soft, breathy.
And there it is again. That moment between us, that tension. That feeling that this could be so much more than we’re allowing it to be.