The Only Song (Only You)

10. Jaxon

Chapter 10

Jaxon

I know I’m going to get an earful from Mason if he ever finds out I’m sleeping on the couch. I don’t expect him to understand why. Or even care, for that matter, but I’m not about to kick Sadie out of the bed.

She looked downright distraught when I found her in the lobby. Crimson red hair falling out of its braid. Pink lips puffy from worrying at them. Wide honey-hazel eyes that somehow lance into my chest.

It was near impossible to not stare at them for the entire plane ride here. Amber edges melting into a caramel-hazel center. They’d light up at certain parts of a piece we were listening to or when we’d verbally spar back and forth, always bright and warm as the fierce and feisty personality I know her to be.

Sassy.

But also undeniably sexy.

Training my eyes on the wall in front of me was the only thing that kept me from getting hard being so close to her. She has no idea the effect she has on me and yet, I invited her up to my room.

Not for sex. No, absolutely not.

But after the way I left her on the plane, I couldn’t think of another way to make up for just leaving her. A part of me feels like it was my fault she was so distressed. Maybe, maybe not.

I sit up from the stiff couch cushions I’m laying on, my shoulders and back already protesting. A faint rustle from behind the door has me standing up abruptly and cleaning up the living room area should she want to sit here.

But why would she?

I completely ghosted her. I wouldn’t blame her for wanting to hole up in that room and stay away from me, so I’m surprised when the door clicks open and a rush of her rosy perfume fills the air.

It heats my core, and when she comes out toward the kitchen island, my lungs freeze.

Her hair is damp, an even darker auburn. Milky skin, fresh faced with tinges of pink on the apples of her cheeks. And she’s wearing an oversized tee like a dress with those lacy bralettes that leave little to the imagination. In fact, her shirt may as well be see-through. I’m stunned at how such simple clothing has me pulling a pillow over my lap to hide the swell in my pants.

“Hi,” she says tentatively, like she’s not sure whether she’s still welcome here.

All I can think of is: my room, my rules. And the rules are she can stay.

It doesn’t stop my voice from coming out all gravelly though when I say, “Hey. Everything okay?”

She rolls her hazel eyes, but there’s a small smile on her lush lips. “You keep asking me that.”

“It’s a genuine question, Sass. Hope you got some good sleep. Earlier, you were…” I trail off, unsure how best to describe the genuine concern I had for her. Or why I felt a pang in my chest at the sight of her.

“A bitch?” she offers apologetically.

I huff a laugh, raising my hands in surrender. “Your words, not mine.”

“Well… I was a bit of a bitch,” she says, tucking a red strand behind her ear. She’s all shy and soft instead of the usual sharp-edged sassy tongue I’m used to from her. It’s quite the opposite of how my dick feels right now. “I was just really?—”

A loud rumble erupts in the silence, and I stare at her hands on her stomach. Sadie’s eyes widen as her cheeks redden with embarrassment.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, aghast. “I’m so sorry. I’m just so?—”

“Hungry?” I smirk playfully as I push off the couch, adjusting my pants to hide the swell in it when I pass her.

I pad my way towards the kitchen, feeling Sadie’s eyes on my shoulders the entire time.

“What are you doing?” she asks curiously, slumping into an island chair to watch as I pull out a few ingredients from the fridge.

“Cooking for you,” I answer. And distracting myself.

I light up a pan on the stove, pour some oil in it, then pull out a cutting board.

“You know how to cook?” Surprise lights up her features and, in an effort to not be sucked in by her gaze, my eyes drag down to her bare shoulder. The oversized tee has slumped off to one side, and it definitely shows off more than my imagination from earlier. The swell of her breasts underneath dark green lace. The peak of her nipples through the sheer white material. My dick twitches.

She’s mesmerizing, especially with the Chicago sunset glowing colorfully behind her.

Keep it in your pants, Jaxon. We can’t fuck while on tour. Fuck each other , I mentally correct. Not that I’d want to fuck anyone else.

I clear my throat and pivot my back to her.

“My mom taught me,” I say over the sizzle of meat I’ve dumped into the pan.

“That’s… so nice,” she answers wistfully. I peek a glance at her. There’s a sadness to the way her full lips frown, a story behind it for sure, but I’m not sure if I should ask. I cut up some carrots instead.

After I’ve tossed the meat around the pan, I return to cut up some more veggies.

Sadie shifts in her seat, watching my every move, then admits shyly, “My mom never taught me.” Her laugh is hollow, eyes distant, like she’s searching her memory for something evading her entirely. “In fact, I don’t remember if I had a home-cooked meal at all growing up.”

“What did you eat?” I ask, confused.

“Packaged meals. Frozen ones usually. Canned foods?”

My eyes shoot up to hers then. They look lonely and it feels like a stab in my chest.

I meant to cook to make her feel better, not to make her cry. Fuck.

“Come here,” I gesture with my hands.

“What?”

“Come over here,” I repeat, taking a step back from the island to show her to stand in front of me.

She hops off the stool and fills the empty space before me in front of the cutting board. I pivot to the stove to stir the meat in the pan and lower the heat, then come back behind her.

Her scent almost floors me. Rosy, with a hint of vanilla. Sweet as honey. She’s already a dessert to my eyes. I bet she’d taste like one, too.

Stop. Can’t think of her that way.

Still, I wrap my arms around her. Goosebumps rise on her skin where my fingers touch her wrists and I guide one hand to a potato and the other to the knife.

“Don’t be afraid of the blade. The potato’s soft so you don’t have to press hard. Just line it up, like this—” I lift our hands together to balance the edge of the blade on the skinned potato. “Now, with your other hand, you scrunch your fingers up like this—” I curl my fingers over hers and bring the edge of our knuckles to the side of the blade. Her breath quickens before me and I have to angle my hip away to not press my hard on into her from behind. Never thought teaching someone to cut a potato would get me hard. Not someone. Her . “See how you can guide the knife down without cutting yourself?”

She hums nervously.

“Here. We’ll do it together.”

Her dainty hands tremble slightly. It pulls a soft chuckle from deep in my chest. These same fingers that appear so strong and confident as they flutter over violin strings shake over cutting a vegetable. It’s adorable.

“Don’t laugh at me, Tanner. I’ve never held a knife before.”

“Not even a butter knife?”

She groans.

“A plastic knife?” I ask, lips close to her ear.

“You know what I mean!” she cries as a shiver rolls down her spine.

Her shoulders brush back against my chest and I can’t help crowd her a little more. It feels as if she’s leaning back into me, but I’m probably imagining it. Then the scent of burning hits my nostrils.

“Shit!” I release my grip from around her and rush back to the stove.

“And this is why I don’t cook. I already know I’ll set something on fire.”

“No, Sass. That’s just your hair.”

She barks a laugh and my lips twitch at the sound of it. So does something else.

“You gonna cut that?” I nod to the potato still in her hand. “Or do you need me behind you again?”

Her cheeks flush, but I know Sadie Love doesn’t back down from a challenge. She curls her fingers the way I taught her, balancing the knife carefully and cuts her first slice. It goes easy and pride fills my chest.

“She listens,” I muse.

“She’s a quick learner,” Sadie snaps back, already cutting her third slice, but I don’t miss the smile in her eyes or the way she bites her bottom lip in concentration.

It makes me wonder how soft it’d be if I bit into that lip.

God, I need to stop thinking of her like this.

I distract myself by gathering the spices and once Sadie is done with the potatoes, I toss it into the pan with everything else.

“So, now what?” she asks, leaning her hip on the edge of the counter. It only accentuates the curve of her breasts and her small waist. I open the pan lid just to keep myself distracted.

“Now, we wait,” I reply. I close the lid and let the curry I’ve started simmer and cook.

She flops onto the couch as I call out from the fridge, “Drink?”

“What do we have?”

“We got cold bottled water, sparkling water, or room temp water.”

She snorts. “So, water?”

“Unless you want to crack open the liquor on that weighted shelf there that adds to my tab.”

Her eyes spark and I know she’s thinking about it. I wouldn’t even be mad. But I don’t think it’d be the smartest thing for either of us to get drunk around the other.

Last time that happened was on a cold night on my fraternity house’s porch. And it didn’t end well.

“We also have tea or coffee,” I add.

“While it would be fun to rack up your tab, I’d rather not nurse a hangover before our first rehearsal. I don’t even know how long I slept for…” she trails off, trying to do the mental math, but I already have the answer.

“Seven hours.”

“Seven hours?” she cries in disbelief, sitting up to clutch the edge of the couch. The movement raises the hem of her shirt up to reveal silky pink shorts. Somehow my brain connects it to her mouth, the color of her lips. “And you didn’t wake me?”

My eyes drag up to her face to pin her with a glare. “And be punched in the nuts? No, thanks.” My dick twitches at the thought of her touching me in any way. Fuck. The thoughts just won’t stop coming. And I doubt she knows she’s the only girl I’ve ever cared about these past few years.

I spin toward the stove to check on our food, needing the distraction. I’d already made rice while she was asleep, so I grab bowls from the cabinet to pour the steaming hot curry that fills our small space with its spicy aroma.

A stomach growl comes from the couch, followed by a groan. Sadie’s cheeks match the color of her crimson hair again and I can’t help the laugh that comes out from me.

“Come eat.” I push her plate to the edge of the counter. “You’ll feel better.”

She flies up from the couch and slides onto the stool. I turn around to plate my own food but I don’t hear the scrape of metal on a bowl.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” I say over my shoulder, but instead I hear a sniff. I spin back around. Sadie’s lips are pursed tightly, like she’s trying to fight them from quivering. Hazel eyes wide, wavy red hair curtaining her shoulders, that green lace bra peeking from under her shirt. Teasingly. Tauntingly.

But I’m more disarmed by her look over the simple bowl of food I cooked. Panic has my nerves on edge. Did I do something wrong?

“You… you don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it,” I say, but she shakes her head, swallowing thickly.

“No. No, that’s not it. Sorry, I’m a mess. It’s been a long day.”

Her eyelashes flutter as she tries to regain her composure, but I’ve seen enough to know that something’s on her mind.

“Thank you for making dinner,” she says softly. It tugs a string taut in my chest. “No one’s ever...” She trails off, her pink lips pulling into a faint smile my core heats at the sight of. “Thank you, Tanner.”

I nod, but I can sense there’s a weight on her shoulders. I want to rub my thumbs in the back of them to ease the tension. Trail my hands over the lace of her bra, but instead I keep my distance.

I choose my next words wisely. She’s smart and sassy. I can tell she clamps shut when pushed too hard, so I prod gently. “You can tell me, Sass.”

“About what?”

“About what’s bothering you.”

She shakes her head. And my resolve disintegrates. I can’t help it. I round the table to sit beside her. She still hasn’t touched the food, playing around with the fork instead. I’m not offended by it. I care more about what’s keeping her tongue tied. How I might be able to unravel it.

I take her hand like I did on the plane. As strong as she was, she looked like she needed a little extra strength and the same goes for now.

“Is it about the room?” I ask. She doesn’t pull her hand away, but her eyes don’t meet mine.

“No,” she replies softly, blinking rapidly. “It’s… it’s nothing.”

My jaw clenches as my fingers curl over her hand. I give her a soft squeeze, telling myself to not push too hard before choosing that maybe the best option would be to give her space.

I lean forward, my lips close to her ear. Her breath hitches when I say, “Whenever you’re ready, you can tell me.”

Turning back towards the kitchen, I can feel her gaze hot on my back.

“It’s about what I told you on the plane,” she says hurriedly. “The solo.”

I freeze. I remember what she said. I remember I didn’t like how she thought she needed to bend over to get something she wants.

I’ll do whatever you say.

That’s what pissed me off in the end. I left immediately after, so I wouldn’t offend her with some snarky response. Although, I wonder if my leaving offended her, anyway.

“You just left,” she confirms my thought quietly.

I sigh deeply before I turn to lean my forearms on the counter so my face is level with hers. I don’t speak until I’m holding her honey-hazel eyes.

“I want you to think about what you asked me, Sass. Then, ask yourself if that’s what you really want.”

Her eyes flicker with confusion. Her soft lips part and I will myself to hold her gaze and not dip down to that mouth.

I cut in before she can reply. “Think about it. Come back and talk to me once you’ve figured that out.”

I spin around, trying not to feel like a dick for cutting her off, but she doesn’t see what I see, that’s clear. The faint flame of confidence in her that should be roaring.

Sadie Love is many things, but believing she’s not good enough? I’m not going to accept that.