Perfect Redemption

Twenty Five: In Which She Knows He Is Her Home

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       I got to admit, there's something oddly comforting about being wrapped up in Jax's arms in the centre of the gym while we're in our birthday suits. There's barely anything our naked bodies except for the small pile of discarded clothing we used to make a makeshift blanket. But between the sex, sleep and more sex, that blanket has disintegrated to nothing.

Regardless, I try to seek warmth from the tangle of our legs. Half my body leans on top of Jax's, with my head laid against his broad chest. His chin rests upon the top of my head, and he doesn't let my wild hair be a distraction for his slumber.

      His features are soft, unstrained, his lips pressed into a thin line and his cheeks flushed, as he continues to sleep. I see his chest rise and fall slowly, the small vibrations of his snores emitting from the back of his throat causes me to chuckle slightly.

I try to pry myself away from his arms, but his grip on me is strong. It takes me a while to wiggle myself away from him, and when I finally do, I feel like a champ. I try not to wake him up as I tip-toe around him, grabbing all of our discarded clothing. I place his clothes in a neat pile beside him and proceed to grab mine.

The sunlight glares through the huge windows—all seven of them, each separated by small boulders at regular intervals—but it not much of the rays manage to enter because Jax took the liberty of closing the blinds when he took me up against it last night. He didn't want any of the passersby to sneak a peek of my goods. It was probably a good call, a call that I could not be bothered to take because I was so consumed with the pleasure that Jax was giving to me.

I guess we all know who is the more cautious one in the relationship.

I hop into the gym showers, seeing as how I reek of sweat from what we did last night as well as before that. When I'm done, I slip into my old clothes. I guess I should have brought an extra set of clothing but I didn't realize that we were going to be sexing it up in the gym the entire night.

Oh well.

I walk back to the mats where Jax is—no surprise there—still sleeping. But this time, I notice slight changes in him when I approach him. His brows are furrowed, knitted together out of strain. His nose is all scrunched up and his lips curve into an ugly frown. A thin film of sweat coats his face, sliding down his temples and falling down his chin. I scoot closer towards him, wondering what the hell just happened to him.

"Don't... please don't fall..." Jax says, barely a whisper. He sounds so tortured, so in tune with pain. "It's my fault... all my fault..."

"Jackson?" I murmur, caressing his face.

"My fault... all my fault..." He keeps rasping.

"Jackson..." I shake him awake. " Jackson, wake up."

All of a sudden, his eyes open and he sits up abruptly, blinking rapidly and breathing hard. His eyes dart around, trying to familiarize himself with his surroundings, and his pupils dilate when he sees me.

"Hey," I say, cupping his face to force him to look at me. "Hey, it's me. Blaire. You're okay. You just had a nightmare."

"Blaire," he whispers my name out of relief. "Fuck, Blaire..."

"Are you okay?" My eyes search his for answers. "You were fine just now. And then I left to shower and then you just..."

"I know." He groans. "It happens sometimes. When you're not around."