Page 64 of His Secret Obsession

He sighs.

This is beginning to feel like a lot more than just fucking. What started as a way to get each other out of our systems is beginning to feel like a lifeline. Like I could tether myself to him through any storm and come out on the other end just fine.

It feels like love.

My heart rate picks up, and I shift underneath him.

I can’t—I am not supposed to—love Jax Parker.

His soft, sleepy voice breaks through the swirling panic. “I love it, by the way. The sign.”

“You saw it?” I ask.

He lifts his head up, giving me a sheepish smile. “Yeah, sorry, were you wanting to show me yourself? I was in the garage looking for something, and it was just kind of sitting out there.” He shrugs, a light pink staining his cheeks.

“Are you sure you like it? If you don’t, it’s okay. I could always make—”

I’m cut off with a soft, tender kiss. When he pulls back, his thumb caresses along my jaw. “Maybe love isn’t the right word.”

My heart plummets. “Oh.”

“I’m so incredibly proud–” He shakes his head before starting over. “No, I’m fuckinghonoredto put that in front of my business.”

Butterflies flutter about in my chest as I soak the words in. A huge grin splits across my face, elation and excitement coursing through me. “Really?”

He nods before giving me a searching look. “I think you should continue making stuff. What you’ve got is real talent. Did it make you happy? Creating something from scratch with your hands like that?”

I stare up at him, blinking rapidly. “Yes, actually. I really, really enjoyed it. I wasn’t sure if I could ever build anything again, but it felt like having a piece of my parents back with me. And I like having a chance to be creative.” It feels good to finally admit the words out loud.

He gives me an understanding smile. “You should keep going then. Make whatever brings you joy. Hell, you could probably sell it for some extra cash.”

A metaphorical lightbulb clicks on over my head, his words leaving my mind buzzing with ideas. I don’t know what to say, but his absolute faith in me has a heavy sensation pressing into the backs of my eyes.

Not knowing how else to thank him, I lean up and brush my lips against his. They are warm and soft, parting slightly so I can slip my tongue inside. I flick my tongue across his with gentle, teasing strokes before sighing into his mouth. It’s a happy, contented sound. When we pull apart, he’s staring down at me with a tender expression that makes my heart skip a beat. His thumb grazes absentmindedly over my collarbone.

“Would you like a bubble bath?”

His big palm slips down between our bodies to cup my pussy, and I hiss. He gives me a knowing smirk, and heat spreads across my cheeks.

“Is your pretty pussy sore from being used too much?” His gaze lands on the flush creeping across my cheeks and down my chest, his proud smirk transforming into a full grin. He shakes his head. “I hope you never stop blushing for me like that.”

My heart stutters.

His smile fades, a light pink staining his cheeks as he averts his eyes. He swallows hard, rubbing the back of his neck. I don’t have it in me to tease him about his own blush, my mind still reeling.

“I could start your bath and then change the bedsheets. Maybe I could join you?” he asks, giving me a hopeful look.

I smile. “Yes, please.”

Jax

The following month passes in a dream-like blur. Maddie and I spend our days working, and she begins spending more time in the garage. During the weekends, we ride around in my truck and pick through old, worn-out furniture that most other people would ignore. I help Maddie carry them home, usually sitting back and admiring her from a distance as she repairs dressers, nightstands, coffee tables, and an assortment of other things. She often paints them, creating different designs and patterns.

By the time she’s done with each piece, they are unrecognizable from their original condition.

I’m impressed when she turns a worn-out dresser into a changing table for a nursery and then sells it to a coworker whose daughter is expecting her first child. We find another dresser, an ugly, brown monstrosity, and bring it back to the garage where she turns it into a kitchen island. I help her pull the drawers out to create open shelving, while she paints it a light blue before sanding the top down and giving it a facelift. An overly ecstatic Hazel buys that particular piece, while a rusty filing cabinet we find at the dump is painted yellow with floral designs over each drawer and sold to the Cedarwood Valley Library. Pretty soon, word gets around and local townsfolk are calling Maddie for specific requests.

I’m so proud and happy for her that I’m bursting at the seams with it.

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