Layla’s POV
The world was soft and golden. That was the only way to describe it.
I lay there on Jax’s bed, my skin still humming, every nerve ending singing a quiet, satisfied song. The air in the room smelled like us—sweat, s*x, and something raw and powerful that had no name. He was beside me, breathing hard, one muscular arm thrown over his eyes, his chest rising and falling in a steady, deep rhythm.
He’d pulled out of me with a groan that seemed to come from the very bottom of his soul. We hadn’t spoken. We didn’t need to. The promise was made. The deal was sealed with every touch, every kiss, every desperate thrust.
I knew Jax Slater. The man was a fortress of hard edges and colder decisions, but his word, once given, was steel. He wouldn’t renege. Not on this. Not after that.
A
