sides and he could stare at her face as she rode out the last waves of her orgasm.
Her skirt was bunched between their stomachs, but he slid her bra and shirt over her head, raising her arms to help her when she whimpered for help. He pulled his T-shirt off so that their chests were bare, then pulled her into his arms, moving gently within her. He was spent, but she still pulsed and trembled around him with tiny aftershocks that made him want her all over again.
Breathing deeply into the curve of his neck, she nestled against him, sighing her pleasure.
He ran his fingers through her long dark hair.
“So she said yes?” he asked, picking up their conversation from earlier.
“Mm-hm,” she murmured.
He didn’t know why exactly, but he didn’t trust her mother. From what he’d gathered through their many conversations about her family, her mother seemed self-absorbed and self-serving, and a small shiver of doubt sluiced down his spine as he thought about the joy in her face when he walked through the door earlier. It would hurt her, badly, were she to lose this house, he thought, holding her closer as her breathing settled into a deep and easy rhythm. He withdrew from her body and smoothed her skirt as best he could, then rested his forehead against hers, closed his eyes, and joined her in sleep.
***
Ring. Ring ring ring.
Ring. Ring ring ring.
Jax opened her eyes slowly to her dark bedroom, feeling bleary-eyed and tired. Gard snored lightly beside her, and she looked over his shoulder at the clock. Four o’clock. Who the heck was calling at four in the morning?
Ring. Ring ring ring.
Reaching over her sleeping boyfriend, Jax grabbed her phone and looked at the screen. Maman.
She sat up against the headboard, pressing talk before putting the phone to her ear. “Maman? It’s four o’cl—”
“I don’t give a shit what time it is!”
Jax exhaled a held breath, her blood running cold from the snarl in her mother’s voice. “I don’t—”
“It’s all over the Internet. At least four of my friends have sent me the pictures, Jacqueline.”
“What…?”
Her mother cleared her throat. “We don’t have a name for the mystery man making out with Jax in the pool, but our sources saw him coming and going from the gardener’s cottage at an adjoining estate. Maybe Jacqueline Rousseau is finally getting her field properly plowed.”
She gasped in horror. Oh God. The paparazzo had sold the pictures from two weeks ago.
“Maman,” she started, her voice a sob as memories of being hounded in LA came rushing back to her, making her feel frightened and exposed.
“Fucking the neighbor’s gardener? I am the laughingstock of my friends, Jacqueline!”
“It’s not like that…I’m in love with—”
“Shut your mouth! Don’t you dare tell me you’re in love with a gardener or I will reach through this phone and strangle you.”
“Jax? Cher?”
Jax glanced down at Gard, who looked groggy but concerned, and she shook her head at him, placing a finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet.
“Maman, you have to understand—”
“I made some calls, Jacqueline,” said her mother in a voice that managed to be both calm and furious. “Your father had the same interest in Hollywood that you do. I called one or two of his old associates, and darling daughter, from what I can gather, you don’t have a project right now. No one’s seen you out in LA since February!”
“I didn’t like being there. I wanted—”
“What? To hide from the world in that garish monstrosity of a mansion?” Her mother paused. “If you think you’re still buying that pile of stone, you’re delusional. I’m selling it, but not to you, and you have one week to leave or I will arrange to have the police remove you. I’m not going to enable this spiral into destruction. Fucking the neighbor’s help and living in a mausoleum? No. No, no, no. Not my daughter. The house goes on the market tomorrow, and hopefully this is the kick in the ass you need to go back to LA and get your life back on track!”
Tears streamed down her face, and she balled her fists in frustration. “That’s not the life I want!”
“Then find a life that doesn’t include fucking the neighbor’s gardener, you stupid, spoiled girl!”
“You can’t do that! You can’t tell me how to live my life! You can’t…” Her voice trailed off in defeat. Somehow she knew her mother had hung up and she was talking into a void. She pulled the phone