His jaw flexed. “That’s different.”
“Oh yeah? How?”
“It just is,” he snapped, shooting her a dark look that sent heat licking down her spine. “You need to do less talking and more thinking about what’s going to happen when I get you home. Thistalkis long overdue, babygirl.”
She wanted to hate him. God, she’d spent eight years sharpening that hate until it felt like a weapon she could wield the second he walked back into her life. Every lonely night, every unanswered letter, every time she’d stared at her phone and told herself she was better off without him. She’d fed that anger like it was the only thing keeping her breathing.
But now, trapped in her own tiny car with his big hand warm on her thigh and his voice still rumbling the word babygirl like it was his to use with her, all the hate was slipping through her fingers. Problem was, she wasn’t ready to let it go. Because if she did, she’d have to admit the terrifying truth. She’d never managed to hate him at all. Her whole life had been built on that hate right up until he got out of prison. If she didn’t hate him, what did that say about eight years of her life?
When he said things like he just had, all Daddy-like and dominant, the words landed low in her belly, heavy and warm. She shifted in her seat, thighs pressing together as memories of the spanking he used to give her flooded back uninvited. She didn’t earn them often, and they were never harsh. That didn’t mean she hadn’t been a sobbing, sorry mess, promising the moon if he’d stop.
Later—alone in her bed, night after night for eight long years—she’d touched herself, thinking of his heavy hand cracking down on her bottom. Of his low voice telling her she was his good girl again once the punishment was over. Her bottom twitched at the memory of the sting, the helplessness. The way he’d pull her into his lap afterward and hold her until the world felt right again.
God. Was he really going to spank her?
The question looped in her mind like a song she couldn’t turn off. One part of her wanted to demand he turn the car around and take her back to work. Of course, they were closing soon anyway, so that was probably a non-starter. The other part of her—the traitorous, aching part—kept wondering how it would feel after all this time. Would it hurt more? Would it feel better? Would she still get that strange, floating release she used to crave?
Her mind drifted back to Book-N-Brews. Jaxon had announced in his calm, no-argument tone that Tazzy was taking the rest of the day off. “We have things to discuss,” he’d said.
Georgia’s eyes had gone so wide, Tazzy expected them to roll across the floor. Her bestie still squirmed in her chair, shifting from one tender cheek to the other, the obvious results of Georgia’s own discussion of their rooftop adventure.
Vivi had strolled in right at that moment. It didn’t take her long to read the tension in the room. She gave that slow, knowing smile Tazzy knew was pure Vivi. “You kids play nice,” she’d drawled, voice dripping with amusement. “Although I hear dirty is a whole lot more fun.”
Tazzy had wanted the floor to swallow her whole. Jaxon hadn’t even blinked. He’d just steered her toward the Goth-mobile with one hand at the small of her back, leaving Georgia blushing and Vivi laughing softly behind them.
Now the silence in the car felt thick, charged. Tazzy glanced sideways at the man currently dominating every inch of her tiny vehicle. His thumb tapped out the rhythm of the song playing on the radio. His hair kept brushing the roof with every bump in the road, sending fresh sparks dancing.
Tazzy reached over again, deliberately trailing her fingers along his bicep.Pop.Jaxon jolted, then shot her a warning glare that made her stomach flip.
“Keep playing with fire, Tazzy,” he muttered, voice rough as gravel. “You’re already earning extra for that little game.”
Her breath caught. Nervousness and something far hotter twisted together low in her core. She couldn’t decide which feeling was winning.
The thought of going over his knee again after eight years. Being bare, vulnerable, completely at his mercy made her pulse race. Would he be harder on her now? Would he make her count? Would he stop when she begged, or push her just far enough to break through all the guilt and anger she’d been carrying?
She squirmed in her seat, terrified that part of her was softening,already wet at the mere idea of his hand on her again. The rest of her was just… aching for him and the release she knew he could give her. For the way he used to make everything else disappear until the only thing left was the two of them.
Jaxon’s big hand suddenly left the wheel and settled heavy and warm on her thigh, squeezing once. Possessive. Reassuring. A promise.
“Whatever’s going on in that pretty head, you can tell me when we get home,” he said quietly, eyes never leaving the road. “But know this, babygirl. When we get home, we’re gonna talk. And I mean really talk. But I meant what I said. You’re getting spanked. For the cigarettes. For the roof. For scaring the hell out of me today. And when it’s over, you’re gonna feel a whole lot lighter.”
Tazzy swallowed hard, heart hammering, wondering which part of that statement scared her the most. Staring at his hand on her thigh, she didn’t answer. She couldn’t. He was right. She needed his hand on her ass. The thing that terrified her was that, no matter what she screamed at him to the contrary, she was desperately afraid she needed him, too.
The car ate up the miles toward her quiet house, and with every passing second, the anticipation built higher. By the time they pulled into her driveway, Tazzy’s thighs were trembling, and her breath was coming too fast.
By the time the tires crunched over the gravel of her driveway and Jaxon killed the engine, Tazzy’s chest felt too tight to breathe. She’d thought she hated him, convincing herself of it in the dark hours when the bed felt too big and the house too quiet. But the truth had been creeping in the whole drive, soft and relentless, until there was no more room left for the lie.
She didn’t hate him.
Not even a little.
And as he turned those dark, knowing eyes on her, full of eight years of promise and possession she’d never received, she realized with a shiver that she was already halfway gone.
“You ready to pay the piper, babygirl?” he asked, voice soft but edged with steel.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready, but she nodded anyway, because this was Jaxon. And as much as she hated it, as much as it scared her… no matter how long they’d been apart, some things never changed.
CHAPTER TEN