Page 60 of Save Me

He brings his lips back to mine, and a coppery taste floods my senses before he pulls back from me ever so slightly, “how do you feel?”

“I feel…”How do I feel?“I feel surprisingly good,” I say honestly.

He smiles at me as he presses a kiss to my forehead. “Did you notice anything different in the moment?”

I pause for a second, mulling his words over in my head, trying to think of everything that I’m feeling, of everything that I’m thinking, and it takes a moment for it to dawn on me that for the first time in a long time my brain was blissfully silent, only focusing on Jax and where the knife was trailing over my body. My senses were so heightened, the adrenaline, lust, and hint of apprehension so strong, that I remained focused solely on what he was doing, and nothing else.

“My mind went quiet… I couldn’t think about anything else—only you and the knife.”

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Now, take a look.”

I bring my wrist in front of my face, and I’m lost for words. The outline of a small heart now rests on the inner corner of my wrist.

“I want you to remember how loved you are,” he says quietly. “Every time you hurt yourself, every time you think life is becoming too much, I want you to look down and remember how much I love you, and how there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I don’t deserve you,” I say quietly, bringing my lips back to his, closing my eyes as the emotion I’m feeling threatens to overwhelm me.

CHAPTER 26

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Ican feelJax’s excitement as he leads me down the hallway, his energy palpable as he walks towards the other side of the house. My steps are quick against the hard floor, and despite the early hour I can’t help but feel excited for whatever he has planned. He stops outside the workout room, opening the door and leading me inside. I’ve never spent any time in here, and I look around the bright space. Along the edges of the room there’s a treadmill, workout benches, free weights, and a speedball. Towards the center of the room a large black punching bag hangs from the ceiling.

“This place is like an actual gym,” I say as I continue to look around, noticing the skipping ropes, yoga mats, and other equipment stacked on shelves on the far side of the room. “But what are we doing in here?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “If you’re going to try and get me to be your running partner or something, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t do cardio.”

“I’ve seen you do cardio before,” he says, his eyes sparkling as he devours my body with his gaze.

I feel myself blush. “Notthattype of cardio.” I smile. “Treadmills, ellipticals, running… not my thing.” I laugh.

“I promise not to suggest we use any cardio machines,” he says with a smile. “I had something different planned for today anyway.”

I watch him as he walks over to the punching bag.

“I’m going to teach you how to use this,” he says.

“Why?” I blurt out.

“Because I think it could be a really good outlet for you, for everything that you’re keeping locked up inside of you. Plus, it doesn’t hurt to know how to throw a decent punch.” He pauses. “And I think it would be really hot to see you kick ass in here.”

“Well, in that case”—I walk towards him—“where do we start?”

He walks me through the basics, teaching me how to stand with my feet shoulder-width apart, correcting my stance every time I take a step back from the bag or shift my weight, throwing off my balance. It takes a while to get used to the position alone, and I find myself constantly straightening up.

“You need to keep your knees and hips bent slightly, like this”—Jax demonstrates—“You don’t want to lock your joints.”

He walks behind me, his hands sending sparks down my skin as he gently repositions my body. I face the bag again. He shows me how to throw a punch in slow motion, and I try to mimic his motions. We do this for a while, and I don’t notice how much I’m concentrating until I pause to wipe sweat off my brow.

“Shouldn’t I have gloves on or something?” I ask with a smile.

“When you’re actually hitting the bag, yes,” Ryan says, and I jump at his voice.

“When did you get here? And who makes you a good judge of my boxing skills?” I ask with feigned offense.

“Since I’m the one who wore out the last bag in here,” he says. He walks up to me, taking in my form as he throws a couple of punches at the bag.

“Try moving your arm like this,” he says as he guides me through a punch. “You want to put your weight behind it, but not so much that you throw yourself off balance.”

I follow his lead as Jax steps back to watch me, seemingly assessing every part of my form.

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