“Hailey,” he says softly. “Hailey, look at me.”
I don’t. I just continue working his dick as deep into my throat as I can get him, trying to suck the pleasure out of him.
“Hailey,” he says, even softer than the last. He gently tugs me off of him using my hair and tilts my chin to look up at him. “Hailey, you don’t need to do this.”
I frown. “I want to. I like going down on you.”
He shakes his head, looking almost sad. “I know you do, but not like this. I feel like you’re doing it now because you think you need to.”
I don’t respond because I don’t know how to. I just stare at him with what I’m sure is a confused look on my face.
He lets out a heavy exhale before he tugs his pants back up, then just as quickly he reaches down to lift me onto his lap. He nuzzles into my neck for a moment, as if he needs the comfort of our closeness to reassure him. I let the tension in my shoulders begin to relax. I reach up to run my fingers through his hair in an effort to soothe us both.
“I never want you to do something you don’t want to do, just because you think I want it,” he says eventually. “I don’t want to be anyone who, consciously or not, coerces you into doing things you don’t want to do. I don’t want you to do things because you feel like you need to, or because you think I won’t want to be with you if you’re honest with me.” He finally pulls his head away to look at me. “Do you understand why I wouldn’t want that? Do you understand why I would rather we be honest with each other and talk about things?”
My feelings morph from shame, to surprise, to embarrassment. I drop my hands to my lap and lower my gaze so I don’t have to look at him.
The truth is… Idon’tunderstand. How can he say he’ll still want to be with me if we’re talking about a hypothetical disagreement? I don’t know which of my preferences or thoughts might upset Jax. The whole thing I want to avoid is having an issue in the first place. No issue, no problem. No risk of me saying something wrong. My entire relationship with Steve was spent trying to avoid or minimize confrontation because I never knew which issue would set him off. If he didn’t enjoy having control over me, any one of our arguments could’ve been a relationship-ender. And the thought of this ending with Jax is… soul-crushing. The only way to minimize the chance of that happening is to avoid the confrontation altogether.
“I want to understand,” I mumble. “I just feel like my instincts are all messed up. All I know is that I want to make you happy.” I look into his eyes. “Is that so wrong? To want to make you happy?”
A heavy exhale whooshes from his chest, and he wraps his arms tight around my body. “Of course not. I want to make you happy too. But I don’t want you to do things for me out of guilt. I want you to start focusing on your happiness a little bit more, okay?Thatwould make me happy.”
I take a deep breath as I think about that for a moment. It feels backwards, but if me being happy makes Jax happy then the guilt does seem to loosen a little bit. “Okay, I’ll try.”
He nuzzles into my neck again, all remaining tension sagging from his body. We just sit there, hugging for several long minutes, content just to hold each other and breathe in the other’s presence.
25
JAX
“Motherfucker,” Hailey mutters.
My head pops up at hearing her curse. We’re currently sitting on the couch in Remy’s apartment, both of us with our computers in our laps, even as Hailey’s stretched the length of the couch with her feet pressed against me. Where I’m catching up on some work, she’s doing homework for one of her classes.
Or trying to, apparently.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her, rubbing her calf where her feet are pressed under my thighs.
She lets out a frustrated sigh as she rubs the heels of her palms into her eyes. “It’s this statistics homework. It’s driving me out of my mind.”
I knead her calf muscle to try to soothe the tension in her body. “Want some help? It’s been a while since I’ve taken a statistics class, but I can take a stab at it. Maybe we can work through it together.”
She shakes her head with a frown. “No, I need to work through this myself. I’ve already reviewed it with a study group and with the professor, so at this point, it’s just my brain. I just can’t wrap my head around it.”
I set my laptop on the coffee table and pull her feet into my lap so I can focus all my attention on her. “Is this the same class you struggled with last semester?”
Her frown intensifies. “Yeah. I failed this one and another business class. That set me behind schedule, so I definitely can’t afford for that to happen again. And they’re both required, so I need to pass this course.”
Something occurs to me that makes my thumbs pause in their massage on the balls of her feet. “If you take over the café, do you even need a degree?”
She tenses, and I mentally curse myself for not thinking that thought through. We haven’t talked about her freakout over the café owner’s offer the other day, but I’ve had a feeling it’s been simmering below the surface in the back of her mind. I probably should’ve broached the subject a little better—or at least not piled it on top of an already-frustrating topic.
“I should get a degree regardless,” she says stiffly. “You can’t get any job worth having without a bachelor’s, and a business degree specifically would be helpful for most opportunities.”
I start rubbing circles on her feet again, willing the tension to melt from her body. “Is that why you enrolled in the first place? To get a degree so you can list it on your resume?”
I don’t say it in an accusing way, but the way she narrows her eyes at me makes it apparent that’s how she took it. “One of the reasons, yes,” she bites out.