Jax's mouth had gone dry. That was the absurd part. In the bathroom, with Ruan's hands still on him and his pulse going like a drum, the words had nearly fallen out on their own. Here, with a body's width of empty floor between them, they felt like something he had to lift.
Because Ruan wasn't performing. That was the difference. No audience, no angle, nothing to win. He was standing there in a sweat damp shirt with his hair a mess and no idea what the answer was going to be, and he was waiting anyway.
Nobody had ever waited on Jax like that. Not once, in twenty four years.
He breathed out.
"Fine."
Ruan didn't move. Didn't help him. He just waited.
Jax made himself hold his eyes. "I want you."
Three words, barely louder than the fan.
They came out steadier than he expected, and the moment they were out of his mouth he felt the strangest sensation. Not relief, exactly. More like setting down something he'd been carrying so long he had stopped noticing its weight.
