Ride me Down

Chapter Sixteen- Between Whiskey & Whispers

Taylor padded through the quiet hallway, hair twisted into a lazy knot, one of Jax’s hoodies swallowed around her frame. Her body ached in that all-too-familiar, well-used way, but hunger was winning out over modesty.

Jax was already out running. Of course he was. Man barely slept, always chasing something even when he claimed to have what he wanted.

Her phone buzzed on her way down the stairs—Dani.

Breakfast’s up. Come before Mason eats all the bacon.

Taylor smirked, thumbs flying.

On my way. Please tell me Jax didn’t leave a Ghost behind to haunt me.

There was no reply.

The moment she stepped into the kitchen, she understood why.

Ghost was there, exactly like his name—silent, still, a presence that chilled and intrigued all at once. He sat at the head of the table, black coffee beside him, half a plate of eggs untouched, a tablet in hand and unreadable eyes locked on the screen.

Taylor hesitated at the threshold, stomach still hungry but nerves prickling under her skin.

He didn’t look up, didn’t shift. Just flipped a page on whatever document he was reading and said, voice low and calm, “You can relax. If I wanted to make your life hell, you’d already know it.”

Her throat tightened at how easily he read her. “Good morning to you too,” she muttered, stepping in and moving toward the coffee like it was her only lifeline.

He didn’t smile, but there was a faint trace of amusement in his voice. “I don’t bite, Sparkles.”

She shot him a look as she poured her coffee. “You absolutely do.”

Ghost finally looked up then—really looked. Not in a threatening way, not sizing her up like he might take her down at any second. But there was a quiet curiosity in his gaze. Something that made her feel like he wasn’t just watching her… he was figuring her out.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said simply.

She arched a brow. “Good or bad?”

He went back to his tablet. “Still deciding.”

The chair across from him scraped as she pulled it out, determined not to let the intimidation win. She sat, tucked one leg under the other, and sipped her coffee while the smell of bacon wafted in from the stovetop.

“You didn’t tell Jax what you saw,” she said quietly, not quite a question.

He didn’t look up. “Not my business.”

A beat.

Then his gaze lifted again—sharper now. “But if you make it my business, we’ll have a different kind of conversation.”

Taylor swallowed, held his gaze, and nodded.

Fair enough.

Taylor took another sip of coffee, pretending like she wasn’t hyper-aware of the man across the table. Ghost didn’t move much. He read, he sipped, he glanced up just enough to let her know that yeah, he was watching. Maybe not judging—though she couldn’t be sure—but definitely assessing.

She cleared her throat. “So… about yesterday.”

Ghost didn’t look up, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “The performance in Jax’s office?”

Her face burned. “Jesus,” she muttered, dropping her forehead into her palm. “Could’ve just let me pretend that didn’t happen.”

He flipped a page on his tablet, calm as ever. “Could’ve, but I like the shade of red your face turns when you're mortified.”

Taylor groaned into her hand, then peeked at him through her fingers. “Everyone keeps saying it’s no big deal. ‘We’re not the judging type,’ or ‘It’s Jax, we’ve seen worse.’ But you walked in while I was—” she cut herself off and waved a hand vaguely, “mid-situation.”

Ghost finally set the tablet down and leaned back in his chair. His eyes were sharper now, but not cruel.

“You looked good,” he said evenly, like he was commenting on the weather.

Taylor blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“You heard me.” He sipped his coffee, gave a half-shrug. “Not like I was expecting it, but I’m not blind. You looked good. Confident. Like you knew exactly who you belonged to.”

She opened her mouth to argue—and then closed it.

Because… okay, yeah. That part wasn’t wrong.

“I didn’t exactly plan to give you a front-row seat.”

“Didn’t need a seat.” He cracked the faintest smirk. “I was standing.”

Taylor threw a piece of bacon at him. It bounced off his shoulder.

Ghost just picked it up, took a bite, and added, “Relax. I’m not going to bring it up again. Just figured if we’re going to be stuck in the same house, you might want to know I don’t rattle easy.”

Taylor leaned back in her chair, a reluctant grin tugging at her lips. “You are such a menace.”

“You’ll survive.”

“You better not tell Jax you said I looked good.”

“I won’t.” He leaned forward just a little. “But maybe you should.”

That shut her up.

For a second, anyway.

Taylor picked at her toast, stealing glances across the table.

This wasn’t how she thought her morning would go. She figured she’d be tiptoeing around Ghost for weeks, pretending she didn’t flash him the most x-rated version of herself yesterday. But here he was—cool, quiet, blunt—and somehow… easy to talk to.

Like he didn’t care about the bullshit. Or like he’d seen too much of it to bother.

She sipped her coffee. “You’re not as scary as people make you out to be.”

Ghost looked up, unimpressed. “Give it time.”

She smirked, leaning back in her chair. “No seriously. You’re kind of… normal. I thought you’d be grunting threats and polishing knives at the breakfast table.”

“I save that for after lunch.”

Taylor laughed. She couldn’t help it. “No wonder Jax keeps you close.”

His gaze sharpened just enough. Not cold—just more focused.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “He does.”

She filed that tone away. There was loyalty in it. The kind you didn’t have to say out loud to know it ran deep.

Her curiosity got the better of her. “You’ve known him a long time?”

Ghost nodded once. “Long enough to know what makes him tick.”

She stirred her coffee slowly. “Good to know. Maybe you’ll be my lifeline when I’m trying to figure out what kind of storm I walked into.”

He tilted his head. “You’re not stupid. You already know.”

That surprised her, how easily he saw through the surface. But she didn’t want to dig too deep into that. Not yet.

Instead, she raised her brows and added lightly, “Well, since you're apparently not going to stop walking in on us, I should probably get used to it.”

Ghost blinked. “Excuse me?”

She bit her lip, playful. “I mean, clearly I can’t keep my hands off Jax. So maybe you should knock next time.”

He gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re dangerous.”

Taylor grinned. “I’ve been told.”

“You keep tempting fate like that and you’ll end up a legend around here.”

She lifted her coffee cup in a mock toast. “As long as it comes with a warning label.”

Ghost smirked, pushed back his chair, and stood. “I’ll leave you to finish breakfast. But you might want to freshen up—Jax’ll be back soon.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

He paused at the doorway, glancing back once. “For what it’s worth, Taylor… you’re not just surviving this place. You’re owning it.”

Then he disappeared down the hallway, leaving her blinking after him.

Taylor finished the last sip of her coffee, letting Ghost’s words hang in the air a moment longer. You’re not just surviving this place. You’re owning it.

Damn right she was.

She rinsed her cup and left it in the sink, already planning her next move. Jax had gone for a run. Which meant he’d be back soon, flushed, sweaty, and in need of a shower.

She wasn’t about to let him have that moment to himself.

By the time she got to his room, her mind was already two steps ahead. She peeled off her T-shirt and jeans, leaving them folded neatly on the dresser—no need to look like a total mess when he walked in. She grabbed a fresh towel and one of his shirts—because it smelled like him—and draped it over the chair for later.

Then she slipped into the bathroom, steam already curling from the edges of the hot water she turned on. She lit one of the candles she found tucked under the sink—Jax’s, probably stolen from some woman ages ago—and set the soft glow dancing along the tile.

The mirror was already fogging up.

She stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over her skin as she pictured the exact moment the door would open. His footsteps. The silence before his gaze met hers.

He’d smirk. That damn, arrogant smirk. But she’d beat him to it.

Because this time? She was the one waiting for him.

And she wasn’t playing fair.

The sound of the bedroom door opening wasn’t loud, but it hit her like a jolt all the same. She didn’t move. Didn’t even glance over her shoulder.

She knew who it was.

The weight of Jax’s presence always filled a room before he spoke. Especially now—after a run. She could practically feel the heat radiating off of him even before he stepped into the bathroom.

She smirked, smoothing water over her shoulder, pretending like her heart hadn’t just kicked into overdrive.

“You’re early,” she said, casually.

He didn’t answer with words. Just the soft tread of running shoes on tile and the quiet exhale of breath through his nose. When she finally looked, he was there—standing just inside the walk-in shower, soaked in sweat and authority. His black tee clung to his chest, joggers low on his hips, steam beginning to rise between them.

And just like that, her plan—her lead—fell apart.

“You waiting for me, or you just like playing house in my shower?” he asked, eyes dark and unreadable.

Taylor tilted her head, giving him that look she knew made him twitch. “What if I like both?”

His lips curved, but not with humor. With intent.

“You forget who runs this house, sweetheart?”

Before she could come up with something smart, he closed the space. His fingers slid into her wet hair, tilting her head back as his lips brushed hers. Not soft. Not teasing. Just enough to promise she wasn’t going anywhere.

Then his hands moved—one flat against her lower back, the other trailing down the curve of her hip—and she was turned without warning, the warm tile of the wall kissing her front.

His voice came low, right behind her ear. “You think being in here first gave you control?”

Her breath caught.

“You thought you’d set the pace?” His lips brushed her shoulder. “That’s cute.”

She was melting. Already too warm. Already aching.

And then he showed her.

He touched her like she was his—his rhythm, his hands, his mouth. Until she wasn’t thinking about control or who led the game, only that he never missed when it came to her.

By the time he wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her steady, she wasn’t even sure which way was up. The water beat down around them, but all she could feel was him—his heat, his grip, the way he was always ten steps ahead of her, and somehow exactly what she needed.

They didn’t speak for a while after that.

They didn’t need to.

Because he reminded her in every motion: Jax didn’t chase.

Except for her.

Taylor padded barefoot into the bedroom, toweling off her damp hair with one hand, the other holding onto the only thing she felt like wearing—Jax’s black tee. It hit mid-thigh and still smelled like him. She liked that.

He followed behind her, still shirtless, tugging on a fresh pair of dark joggers like the last half hour hadn’t just left her legs trembling.

She settled on the edge of the bed, legs curled under her, the fabric of his shirt bunched between her thighs. Her hair was a wet mess, and her cheeks were still flushed—but she felt good. A little raw. A lot seen. And not in a bad way.

“You know,” she said softly, glancing toward him as he walked past, “I think I like Ghost.”

Jax turned, one brow raised.

Taylor shrugged. “We talked. Cleared the air about the office… situation.” Her lips curled slightly at the memory. “He said I looked pretty when I showed who I belonged to.”

Jax smirked at that, mouth twitching in amusement as he grabbed a clean shirt and pulled it over his head. “Did he now?”

“Mhm.” She leaned back on her elbows. “I guess it was easier to hear that from him than anyone else. He didn’t judge me. He just… saw it. Called it. Moved on.”

Jax crossed the room, standing in front of her, between her knees. “He’s good at reading people.”

She tilted her head up, smirk soft but knowing. “Then he knows I’d do it again.”

Jax leaned down, brushing his mouth over hers—not a kiss, just a threat of one. “You will.”

Taylor’s eyes danced with something between challenge and acceptance. But then she softened.

“I should also warn you,” she said, pressing a hand against his chest, “my period’s coming soon.”

Jax blinked at her. “Okay?”

She gave him a flat look. “Which means if you want more of me before I go full gremlin mode, you better get it in soon.”

That earned a deep chuckle from him as he caught her wrist and tugged her up off the bed and into his chest.

“Noted,” he murmured, his hand sliding down her thigh, fingers bunching the hem of his own shirt that she was wearing. “But just so we’re clear—you’re mine either way. Gremlin or not.”

She laughed into his shoulder, her heart doing that stupid little flip again. Damn him.

She really was getting used to this life. Complicated, messy, and all.

Taylor stayed tucked against his chest, arms lazily wrapping around his waist as her fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt—well, technically hers now. She tilted her chin up just enough to meet his eyes, expression a little sheepish.

“Just so you know,” she said, voice light but honest, “I’m usually kind of a nightmare when I’m on my period. Moody, irrational, territorial over snacks… You might want to lock me in your room and pretend I don’t exist for a few days.”

Jax’s brow lifted with an amused tilt, but she wasn’t done.

“I’m serious. I’ll cry over dumb movies, yell at you for breathing too loud, and probably threaten to murder someone if they eat the last of the chocolate.”

He chuckled low in his throat, brushing a loose strand of damp hair from her cheek. “So basically, business as usual.”

She gave him a glare that didn’t land because her lips were twitching into a smile. “You’re not funny.”

His grin said otherwise.

“I’m just saying,” she continued, nudging him with her hip as she stepped back a little, “maybe we stockpile snacks, queue up some movies, and I disappear into your room for a while. You know, hibernate like a hormonal raccoon.”

Jax crossed his arms, eyes raking over her bare legs and his too-big tee hanging off her like a dare. “You planning to let your body rest because you need it…” He stepped forward, crowding her a little, voice dropping. “Or because you think you won’t be tempted?”

Taylor raised a brow. “Both. Let’s be honest—if we keep going at this rate, I’ll need physical therapy.”

His smirk turned wicked. “I’ll book you in.”

She laughed, swatted at his arm, and turned to walk toward the dresser—bare feet silent against the hardwood. “I’m trying to be responsible for once, Jax. Let my body recover. Be a mature, functioning adult.”

He followed, slow and lazy, like he had all morning. “I like you better irresponsible.”

She paused, glancing over her shoulder at him with a crooked smile. “Of course you do.”

He caught her again before she got too far, arms slipping around her waist from behind, his mouth brushing against her shoulder. His voice came soft this time, honest in a way that always caught her off guard.

“Let me take care of you when it starts.”

She stilled for a beat. Then slowly, she reached back and laced her fingers through his.

“Okay,” she whispered. “But only if you promise not to eat my snacks.”

“No promises,” he murmured, kissing the curve of her neck. “You’re mine. Your snacks are mine too.”

She groaned, “This is the toxic love story my mother warned me about.”

But she didn’t pull away.