Page 197 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

When he returns, he’s holding a small mirror.

“Here,” he says, his voice calmer now as he sets the mirror in front of me.

I stare at it for a moment, hesitant, before finally looking at my reflection.

The person staring back doesn’t feel like me. The hair clip holds my hair neatly in place, framing my face in a way I haven’t seen before. It’s strange, seeing myself like this—like I belonghere, like I’m capable of being something more than the scared, fragile girl who ran from everything.

Jax steps behind me, his reflection appearing over my shoulder. The sight of him—tall, broad, and steady—makes something flutter within me. His presence feels overwhelming, but not in a bad way. Not in a bad way at all.

“How does it look?” he asks, voice low and deep, almost a whisper in my ear.

I swallow hard, my fingers brushing over the clip. “It’s…really nice,” I say, but my voice is now barely audible. “Thank you.”

Jax’s hand lifts, his fingers brushing against a stray strand of hair that’s fallen loose. He tucks it behind my ear, his touch lingering for just a moment too long.

“You’re beautiful,” he says quietly, eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

For a moment, I can’t breathe. His gaze is intense, unwavering, and the weight of it feels like it’s pulling me under.

“Jax…” I whisper, unsure of what to say.

His lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile, but his eyes never leave mine. “You should hear it more often,” he says simply.

My chest constricts on my heart, an ache blooming low in my belly. There’s something about the way he says it—so genuine, so certain—that makes me feel raw and exposed, like he’s seeing parts of me I’ve tried to keep hidden.

Jax steps back, breaking the spell. The air feels instantly colder, his absence a stark contrast to the warmth that lingered moments before. He moves to the armchair across from me, lowering himself into it with a controlled grace that belies the tension humming beneath his skin. He sits rigidly, his thighs spread wide, the fabric of his pants straining against his erection.

I glance at him, my gaze drawn to the way his hands grip the arms of the chair, his knuckles white, the muscles in his forearms flexing. He reaches for a blanket draped over the edge of a nearby seat. Without a word, he unfolds it and lays it across his lap. Hesmooths it out with slow, precise motions, his gaze fixed on the task, but I can see the pulse throbbing in his throat, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

I watch him, my cheeks still warm, and try to focus on finishing my breakfast. The waffles are good, but my appetite is fading fast.

Jax shifts in his seat, and I catch the faintest hint of frustration in the way his fingers flex against the blanket.

When the blanket doesn’t seem to do the job of hiding his massive hardness, he leans forward, grabbing Stone’s laptop from the coffee table. He flips it open and seems like he’s focused on it.

For a while, he’s silent, his eyes fixed on the screen. The soft clicking of the keys fills the room, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s not actually working.

I glance at him again, my curiosity getting the better of me. Is he really working, or is he just trying to distract himself?

The thought makes my cheeks heat all over again, and I glance away, focusing on the TV instead.

The silence stretches, the tension lingering in the air like a static charge.

Eventually, Jax lets out a quiet sigh, closing the laptop with a sharp click. He stands, the blanket still gripped to his lap, and looks at me.

“I’ll be back later,” he says, voice deeper than it was before. When he sets the blanket down on the chair, the movement reveals the hard outline of his erection beneath the now-rumpled fabric. A lump forms in my throat, my gaze fixed on the telltale tent.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

As he leaves the room, I exhale shakily, my body still humming with the tension he left behind.

Chapter 46

Hailey

An hour passes, maybe more. The house is quiet, save for the faint creak of floorboards above me—Jax or Stone moving somewhere unseen. The sound is distant, fading into the background, unimportant compared to the restlessness building in my body.

At first, it’s subtle—a faint warmth blooming low in my chest, like the lingering heat of a fire long after the flames have burned out. I shift on the couch, hoping the small movement will help. It doesn’t.

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