Forever Starts Tonight (Wilder Family #4)

Chapter 6

Jax

It was rare for me to sleep until the sun came up, and the moment I stirred to wakefulness, my body went eerily still.

Everything around me was warm, soft, that heavenly fucking smell enveloping the entire bed, and in my arms was Poppy Wilder—naked as the day she was born and tucked into my side like she was meant to be there. Her breathing was deep and even, slow puffs of air from her mouth on my chest, and her arm was slung around my waist, precariously close to a very telling morning hard-on that was inconvenient. Inconvenient because she was there, and I damn well knew if I rolled over, she’d take me. She’d let me do anything.

Images from the night before rushed into my brain, each one better than the last.

The first time, I could blame the haze of sleep and alcohol. That I found her there next to me, smelling and feeling like she did.

The second time, though, that was pure indulgence. We slept for a couple of hours, and I woke with my thumb brushing along the bottom curve of her breast and my aching hard-on resting right between the perfection that was Poppy Wilder’s ass.

That second time was slow and quiet .

I brought her awake by sliding my hand down the flat line of her belly, coasting between her legs while she started panting, arching her back with a gasp when I found her slick and ready. With my mouth on the back of her neck and her leg slung up over mine, I took her that way, with my chest pressed tight against her back and my hips moving in slow, short thrusts.

She made the best noises, breathy little gasps when my movements changed, got harder, longer. Whimpers when I plucked at the hard tips of her chest. A decadent, keening moan when my teeth sank into her shoulder as we crossed the peak together, my arms locked tight around her body while I pinched my eyes shut and let the heat of the release slip through my veins like a drug.

Poppy turned her face toward me, my forehead resting on her cheek while we breathed in the dark. I stayed inside her, unable, unwilling to force myself to pull out just yet.

God, I’d been so close to kissing her. Not because I was in love with her or wanted some happily ever after with a girl who deserved someone better than me, but because it felt like I should. That the sex would somehow be better if I had.

And even without it, the sex was incredible.

With the morning light coating the room, I waited for a rush of shame, for an ounce of regret, and shockingly, I came up really fucking short on both of those. A slight headache was blooming at the base of my skull, and my mouth was dry, but even my hangover wasn’t that bad.

The truth was, I didn’t deserve any of these things. Poppy was so good, so innocent, she’d wanted the fairy tale of her parents’ marriage her entire life, and God, she deserved it. Who was I? Fucking no one who should be touching her, that’s for sure. My arm tightened where it was anchored around her back, and I inhaled her shampoo again.

I wasn’t good. I definitely wasn’t innocent. The times in my life when I’d gone home with someone, gone to a hotel, full well knowing I’d never see them again was more than I could count. Fewer, maybe, than a lot of people assumed, but still a lot. It wasn’t like I’d never slept with someone more than once because I had. But there were lines I’d never crossed.

No kissing.

No one married or engaged.

And no one in my bed.

Only once. Just her.

Gorgeous and naked and probably the best sex I’d ever had in my life. The kind you wanted more of. The kind you thought about when you were alone and couldn’t have it—a pale memory and my own hand would never give me that same high.

Was it better because I knew it was wrong? Was it hotter because I knew that I shouldn’t be tearing off her underwear and letting her ride my fingers, all that tight, hot perfection clenching around me in a way that had me losing my fucking mind?

“Fuck,” I whispered, bringing my free hand up to pinch the bridge of my nose.

Maybe I had lost my mind.

Insanity by Poppy Wilder’s perfectly tight?—

I stopped myself short, jaw tight with sudden tension, because she wasn’t perfect. No one was. Calling her angel in my head had always been a mistake because it built her up to something untouchable and unfair.

One night didn’t erase anything. Not for me.

I gave her one last look, studying the peaceful way she slept, half on top of me, and then gently eased my arm from around her. Instead of waking, Poppy curled up on her side when I moved out from under her, turning her face into the pillow while her breathing evened out again.

I exhaled quietly, carefully pulling the blanket up to cover her delectable, bare body. Once all that flawless skin was out of sight, my head felt clearer, and I went into the kitchen to drink some water and start a pot of coffee. While that was brewing, I checked the weather forecast and stared out the kitchen window, a rolling barrage of memories from the night before weighing my chest down.

Not because the memories weren’t good.

They were too good.

If noticing Poppy had me leaving town to clear my head, then what the fuck was I supposed to do with this? My hands tingled, and my throat felt tight as signs of anxiety crawled up over my body.

Get out.

Clear your head.

It was always the same. A glimpse of her big brown eyes. A flash of her smile sent off a pang of … something … deep in my chest.

Don’t name it.

Don’t feel it.

I drummed my fingers on the counter and took a few deep breaths, feeling like I’d lost an anchor somehow. Lost the thing grounding me for so many years. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I thought about what felt best when direction and clarity were in short supply.

Fresh air. New sights. And a challenge to exhaust me to my core.

The one trip I’d hesitated making pushed up through last night’s memories. It was too long , I thought. Even though he’d never done it before because of how well he understood me and my situation, Cameron might push back on this one.

I just might have to push back.

Because this … this I needed. The consequences of decimating those barriers always surrounding Poppy grew bigger and bigger the longer I stood there.

If I stayed, I’d fool myself into thinking I was capable of ignoring her. And right now, with the scent and feel of her fresh in my mind, I knew what bullshit that was. There was no lying to myself. Not right now.

I pulled out my phone and sent him a text about the trip, hoping he was too busy on his weekend away to answer until later. His name flashed on the screen immediately—an incoming call that I probably should have expected. Blowing out a slow breath, I glanced down the hall to make sure the door was shut before I answered.

“Morning,” I said.

“What happened?” he asked, bypassing pleasantries altogether.

Wincing, I rubbed at the back of my neck. “Something needs to happen for me to go do this?”

Bullshit. What utter bullshit.

Cameron was tellingly quiet on the other end of the phone. “You can pull together that big of a trip in such a short time?”

“I think so,” I told him.

He made a small noise of concession. “You’ve been talking about doing this trip long enough. Probably good you’re finally doing the thing.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I did the thing all right.

The thing being his sister.

“Yeah, it’s about time.”

He sighed. “You still have that international phone for emergencies?”

“Of course. If I used my own phone, Wade would text me daily with how much he misses me.”

My friend snorted, and my smile faded fast. The deception sat bitter on my skin, but there was no avoiding it.

“Yeah, go ahead,” he answered after a long moment. “You promise you’re okay, though? You’d tell me if something happened?”

Covering my mouth with one hand, I wrestled that screaming part of my conscience with my eyes pinched shut. The hand dropped. My conscience went quiet.

“Nothing happened, Cameron,” I lied smoothly. “Just don’t want to push this off any longer.”

“Okay. Just keep me updated with your travel dates.”

“I might be gone a while for this one,” I said quietly.

“I know. We’ll be all right without you. And maybe Wade will be in a good mood without you here.”

Even with the disquiet hanging over my head, I managed a smile. “Sure he will,” I said dryly.

Cameron laughed, said his goodbye, and disconnected the call.

My chest seized, and I hung my chin down into my chest while I fought the crawling sensation pushing up my spine. It wasn’t just Poppy, of course. I mean, it was mostly about her. But in the moments when I most felt the need to escape, I could hear my mom’s voice in the back of my head.

God, Jax, that’s not what I need right now. I know you think you’re helping, but just … can you just leave me alone, and I’ll be able to figure this out.

If the Wilders were characterized by their dizzying sense of loyalty, an unwavering belief in what they thought was right, and the way they loved each other without reservation, then I’d learned entirely different lessons.

Go.

Leave.

Peace and quiet and solitude were the only way to keep up those necessary barriers in my head.

Thoughts of my mom had the throbbing in my head increasing, and I strode down the hall to the bathroom, cranking the knob on the shower to hot. When it was ready, I stepped under the spray and let the scalding water beat down on my head and shoulders. I stood there for a long time until my skin was red, and my head was slowly clearing.

As the water cooled, I soaped up quickly, drying myself off with a towel from a hook on the wall. The door to the bedroom was still shut, so I assumed Poppy was still sleeping. I had a pair of sweatpants hanging on the hook on the back of the door, and I tugged them on before running the towel over my hair to dry it off enough to go make some eggs for breakfast.

That was what I was doing when the door to the bedroom creaked open and soft footsteps padded down the hallway. I braced myself for the sight of Poppy in my T-shirt, but when I glanced over my shoulder, she’d pulled on a pair of my pants, far too long for her. A ghost of a smile tugged at my lips because the end of the pants kept covering her feet while she tried to walk, tripping as she entered the living room.

“Morning,” I said, steeling myself against an almost primitive rush of affection at the sight of her.

The barrier went back up in my brain, brick by brick by brick, sealing off any remnants of the night before.

Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright in her face. “I think maybe your pants are hazardous to my health.” She gave me a wry grin and picked up her outfit from the night before where she’d folded it on the couch. “I’m gonna go, uh…” She hooked a thumb back toward the bedroom, and I nodded.

“Eggs will be ready in a few minutes,” I told her. “Want some toast?”

Poppy shook her head, her dark hair in tangles around her face. Probably from the way I manhandled it the night before. My stomach tightened at the memory of fisting it in my hand, and I tore my gaze away as she disappeared down the hall again.

As I divvied up the eggs onto two plates, the simple domesticity of it knocked the breath from my lungs. But I ignored the implications, focusing instead on pouring us coffee and setting everything on the table.

Poppy smiled gently when she returned, her hair pulled off her face and her slightly wrinkled outfit a much better fit than anything of mine. “This looks great, thanks.”

I shrugged. “Can’t make much, but I’m good at scrambled eggs.”

She took a seat, sipping the coffee first, and then digging straight into her food. When the first bite hit her tongue, she closed her eyes and made a small noise at the back of her throat that had me shifting in my seat.

It was kinda like the noise she made when I put two fingers between her legs.

I cleared my throat and tucked into my breakfast.

It was quiet as we ate, and after she finished, she set her fork down before giving me an impish look. “Eggs were almost as good as the sex.”

I choked on my last bite, and Poppy laughed when I had to get up for a drink of water.

“Sorry,” she said.

After draining half the glass, I glared at her over my shoulder. “Somehow I don’t think you are.”

“I told you I’d be fine with one night, Jax.” Her words were direct, but she’d shifted her gaze down to her empty plate. Her fingers toyed with the handle on the fork. “And that one night was a great one,” she added.

Instead of answering, I let out a slow breath and took my seat again. Her eyes tracked over my bare chest, and I wished I’d taken the time to sneak a shirt from my room. I wanted to snap at her not to look at me like that, but hell, if she was topless, I’d be staring too.

I wanted to tell her that it was a great night for me too, but those words lodged in my throat just like the food, cutting off my air supply until I swallowed them down. It would be easier to redefine the lines from before now that the air was calm outside and the sun shone. We’d slept in long enough that the temps rose above freezing, and with the addition of the bright sun, I knew the roads would be fine for her to get home .

Telling her anything would only make it harder for her to leave.

“Do you need me to drive you home?” I asked.

Her gaze moved over my face, and eventually, she shook her head. “I called an Uber while I was changing.”

My jaw clenched, and I nodded. “And if you get Patrice again?”

Her mouth curled into a smile. “I’ll have a great story for her, won’t I?”

I grunted.

Poppy glanced at her phone and then brought her plate to the sink. She turned, pinning me with a searching look. “When do you leave on your trip?”

“Uh...” I grimaced. “Need to buy my tickets yet.”

She rolled her eyes. “Soon, huh?”

“I didn’t lie,” I said defensively. “A couple of weeks is soon.”

Sort of.

Her lips quirked in a tiny smile. “Where are you going this time?”

I let out a slow, measured breath. “Spain. It’s a hiking trip I’ve always wanted to take. Never figured out the best time to do it.”

Her eyebrows rose slowly. “Spain? That’s … a long flight.”

“Long trip, too.”

She shook her head and smiled. “You must have triple the vacation time as everyone else at Wilder Homes.”

I pushed my tongue into the side of my cheek and didn’t say one fucking word.

The tense silence that built between us had my chest squeezing uncomfortably. There was no one to say goodbye to when I disappeared for weeks or months on end. No one who needed to know my comings and goings. No one who cared enough to pay attention, at least. I had a lifetime of practice for that .

And I waited to see what Poppy would do—if she’d ask to see me when I got back or how long I’d be gone. But she visibly straightened, her gaze direct and her resolve iron-strong. “Well, if I don’t see you before you leave, be safe,” she said.

I nodded. “Always am.”

Her phone dinged, and she glanced at the screen again. “My ride is almost here.” She tucked her phone in her purse. “I should go.”

Why did I feel an anxious tingle in my hands, a buzzing in my ears at the thought of her leaving like this after a night like the one we’d had? Frantic thoughts crawled through my brain like a line of ants, and I couldn’t squash them, no matter how hard I tried.

“Are you,” I said, “are you okay after last night?”

The rough sound of my voice made it sound like someone else was speaking. Someone with a pinched throat. A ragged sort of desperation there that I didn’t recognize.

Poppy softened, and she closed the remaining steps between us, lifting her hand to cup the side of my face. My heart thundered wildly at the gentle touch. In her eyes, there was something I couldn’t define, and trying to only would’ve led me further down into that insanity I’d already felt.

“More than okay,” she told me. “I would never regret you, Jax.”

The words, so casually spoken, speared through some unseen weak spot between my ribs, slicing straight into the pit of my chest. With my chest thundering, she rolled up onto the balls of her feet and placed a featherlight kiss on my cheek, resting her forehead against my face before pulling away.

My hands curled into fists at my side to keep from snagging her wrist and pulling her close. I could hardly breathe the way I wanted to.

Was this easier for her than for me? And how? I was always the one walking away .

Poppy hooked her purse strap over her shoulder and gave me another long, unfathomable look before she opened the door.

“Thank you,” she said simply. And then she smiled, bright and wide, and I felt it like a blow to my chest.

Somehow, I managed a nod and watched her disappear through the door, then walk out to a dark blue sedan idling in front of my house. The woman behind the wheel gave me a thumbs-up through the windshield, and I muttered a curse under my breath.

Then they drove off, and I wondered when the lingering ache beneath my ribs would disappear.