“Jax?” Poppy’s perfect voice broke through the overwhelming thoughts. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “You?”
“After that?” A wry smirk lifted her swollen lips as she reached for his belt buckle. Working to pull it free, she rasped, “I’m better than good.”
“Don’t.” Jax covered her hand with his and stepped away.
A blanket of confusion dulled the sparkle in Poppy’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just—”
“I got mine.” She tried reaching for him again. “Now it’s your turn.”
“I’m good, thanks.”
She flinched, the look on her face nearly shattering his resolve. “You’re good?”
“Yep.”
“You sure, because you don’t seem okay? I mean one minute, we’re…and the next you’re—”
“I’m fine, Penelope!” Shit, he hadn’t meant to snap at her like that. Rubbing a hand over his jaw, he said, “Look, it’s been a long day, and I’m beat.” His voice thickened with the lie. “We both need sleep, so I think it’s best if we just say goodnight.”
Though she tried to hide it, Jax didn’t miss the look of utter disappointment that flashed behind those gorgeous eyes. To her credit, Poppy kept her spine straight and her chin up when she told him, “All right, then. Goodnight, Jax.”
He watched as she turned and walked away, disappearing down the hallway to his bedroom. And when he heard the door shutting behind her, Jax closed his eyes and hung his head.
Declan’s right. I am a dick.
The next morning,Jax stood at the stove doing his damnedest not to burn the pancakes he’d thought were a good idea to make. Given the foul mood he was already in, he should’ve known better than to think he had the patience for this shit.
He’d really screwed things up with Poppy. Problem was, he had no idea how to fix it.
After sending her to bed—alone—Jax had considered going after her. In the end, however, he’d decided against it with the belief that it was all for the best.
For her or for you?
So instead, he’d used the smaller bathroom nestled between the kitchen and his bedroom to take the coldest shower of his existence. Not that it had done any good. He’d still been horny as fuck.
For a moment during his Arctic-like shower, he’d considered taking matters into his own hands. Literally. But Jax had felt like a total perv even considering jerking off with Poppy sleeping right there in the next room.
Flipping the pancake over, he cursed beneath his breath when he saw its dark edges and black swirls.
“Shit.”
Jax grabbed the trashcan that was tucked away beneath the sink, tossing the half-burned flapjack inside with the others he’d already destroyed. Flipping off the burner, he finally gave up on cooking with a plan to blame the ruined breakfast on the late night and lack of sleep.
So much for that olive branch.
It wouldn’t be a total lie. Jax was tired, but why the hell wouldn’t he be? He’d tried—and failed—to fall asleep after Poppy had gone to bed. But between the couch being too damn short for his long ass legs, the hard-on he’d sported long after their awkward parting of ways, and the guilt he felt for shutting her out the way he had, the minutes had ticked by about as fast as a fucking sloth.
And Christ Almighty, the images that had plagued him during that time…
The look in Poppy’s eyes when she’d practically begged him to kiss her. Watching her come apart beneath his touch. The sated smile she’d given him after he’d brought her to orgasm. The hurtful look she’d given him as she’d turned and walked away.
Allof it played on a continuous loop. Minute after agonizing minute. Hour after torturous hour.
When the sun—as well as his guilt for the way he’d left things with her—began to rise, the only thing Jax could think to do was to get up and make her breakfast. A totally lame gesture meant to appease what he could only assume to be anger and frustration toward him.