Chapter 026

***~Michelle~***

“That's... I can't,” I groaned as Jaxon laughed. I was surprised when he invited me to cook with him.

The invite had left me flustered, though I tried convincing that I wasn't exactly good in the kitchen. I was the worst.

But here I am anyway, standing next to him with an apron tied loosely around my waist, watching as he effortlessly moved about.

He had changed into a fitted T-shirt, that exposed the corded muscles in his forearms, and I had to fight not to stare too long. Although, I caught myself doing just that.

He grabbed the red bell pepper that I'd been struggling to slice and began chopping it with practiced precision.

He was superfast, and I couldn’t help but admire the way his biceps flexed with every movement. I pictured him sweaty after working out, his biceps flexing with every move.

Or maybe I could dig my fingers into them while he towered above me. Heat crept up my neck as I shook myself out of the trance.

Get a grip, Michelle, for fuck sake, the man is right here.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help me?” Jaxon teased, his voice warm, with a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips.

I laughed nervously, trying to mask how affected I was by his nearness. “You do realize I’m terrible in the kitchen, right? You’re risking your dinner by letting me anywhere near a stove.”

“Good thing I’m here to supervise,” he said, stepping closer.

The space between us closed, and I caught a whiff of his cologne—woodsy with a touch of spice. My pulse quickened as he stepped behind me guiding my hands toward the ingredients. His arms brushed against mine as he demonstrated how to dice an onion properly.

His voice was soft, patient, but all I could focus on was the warmth radiating from him and the solid presence of his body so close to mine.

“Like this,” he murmured, his hand gently correcting my grip on the knife.

I nodded, though I barely registered what he was saying. My eyes were fixed on his hands and I didn't realize I had a thing for veiny muscular arms and fingers.

My thoughts were also a whirlwind, filled with the sound of his deep voice and the feel of his breath near my ear.

His phone buzzed on the counter, breaking the spell. He glanced at it and sighed. “I need to take this. Can you watch the pasta sauce for a minute? Just stir it occasionally.”

I nodded again, both disappointed he'd left with his warmth and relieved that he left. I needed space to breathe.

As he disappeared into the next room, I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

With Jaxon gone, I took a moment to really look around his kitchen. It surprised me how cozy and vibrant it was, with splashes of blue and white, just like his sitting room.

I'd come to the conclusion that blue might be his favorite color, since I could spot a blue colored furniture or item everywhere I looked.

Unlike in the romance novels, where men only tend to love darker colors and their homes were filled with more black than white... Jaxon was a blue guy and the thought was actually refreshing.

I turned back to the stove, intending to check the sauce, but my mind wandered again. His soft voice, the little touches—all of it was overwhelming.

I felt a flutter in my chest and let myself imagine, just for a second, what it would be like if...

The smell of something burning snapped me out of my daydream. I panicked and grabbed the handle of the pan without thinking, the scorching metal instantly searing my palm. A sharp scream escaped me as I dropped the pan back onto the stove.

The sound of Jaxon’s hurried footsteps filled the air. He appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide with concern.

“What happened?” he asked, rushing to my side.

“I... I wasn’t paying attention,” I stammered, clutching my injured hand.

Without a word, he switched off the stove and took my hand gently in his and moved me to the sink. He turned on the cold water and held my hand beneath the stream, his expression a mixture of worry and focus.

“Does that help?” he asked, gray eyes fixed on me.

“Yes,” I said softly, though the pain was still sharp. Damn.

Almost immediately, his expression shifted into something I hadn't seen before —calm, methodical, authoritative.

It took me a second to realize he'd slipped into Doctor mode. The thought warmed me from the inside and equally sent a rush of warmth pooling in between my legs.

After a moment, he turned off the water and inspected my hand. “Stay here,” he instructed. “I’ll grab my first aid kit.”

He left briefly, returning with a small box. He led me to the couch in the living room and knelt in front of me, carefully examining the burn.

The warmth of his hands against mine was distracting, and I found myself studying his face as he worked. The sharp line of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brows, the way his gray eyes softened with concern—it was almost too much.

“This might sting,” he warned as he applied an ointment to the burn. I winced. Oh boy, it hurts. But his touch remained steady and reassuring.

“How’s the pain now?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes meeting mine.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat. His gaze held me in place, a pull I couldn’t resist. For a heartbeat, the world around us faded.

Jaxon’s eyes flickered to my lips, then back to my eyes, and my breath hitched. I leaned in without thinking, knowing I might regret my action later but again —I wasn't thinking.

But just as our faces came close enough for his lips to meet mine, his phone rang again. The sound shattered the moment, and we both pulled back abruptly.

He dropped my hand as he stood, running a hand through his hair. “I should... take this.”

“Of course,” I murmured, staring at my bandaged hand as he walked away.

I pressed my lips together, wondering what might have happened if his phone hadn’t rung. Would I have kissed him? Would he have kissed me back?

Realization slowly dawned on me. I was more attracted to Jaxon than I cared to admit. And the thought?

It was damn unraveling and quite scary.