The Night She Broke Me

An Exclusive Bonus Scene from The Mechanic

Bonus Chapter: Jax’s Perspective

The Night She Broke Me

This exclusive bonus chapter takes place after Chapter 6, from Jax’s point of view.

* * *

I’m fucked.

Not in the good way—though that happened too, about an hour ago. No, I’m fucked in the way that means everything I thought I knew about myself just got shattered like a windshield hitting a guardrail.

Callie’s asleep in my arms, her breath warm against my chest, her body still trembling occasionally with aftershocks from what we did. What I did to her. What she let me do.

I’ve made a lot of women come. That’s not bragging—it’s just facts. I learned early that if you want to be remembered, you need to be good. So I studied. Practiced. Made it my mission to understand the female body better than most women understand themselves.

But I’ve never—never—seen what I saw tonight.

The way she shattered. Not just once, not just twice, but over and over until she was crying and laughing and saying my name like it was the only word she remembered. The way she trusted me to push her past every limit she thought she had, and then thanked me for it after.

The way she looked at me like I was something precious.

I don’t do precious. I do fun. I do temporary. I do “this was great, let’s never speak of it again.”

But Callie…

She’s curled against me like she belongs here, and the terrifying part is that she feels like she does. Like this space in my arms was always meant for her, and I just didn’t know it until now.

* * *

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach for it carefully, trying not to wake her.

Ford: How is she?

I stare at the message for a long moment. How do I answer that? How do I tell my best friend—my brother in everything but blood—that the woman he trusted me with just rewired my entire nervous system?

She’s good, I type back. Really good.

Ford: And you?

Fuck. He knows. Of course he knows. Ford always knows.

I’m in trouble, I admit.

Ford: The good kind?

I don’t know yet.

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.

Ford: Just don’t run. That’s all I ask. Whatever you’re feeling, don’t run from it.

I want to tell him that running is all I know. That I’ve been running since I was sixteen years old, since my father looked at me with disgust and told me I’d never be capable of love. That every relationship I’ve ever had has been a controlled explosion—fun while it lasted, minimal damage when it ended.

But Callie isn’t a controlled explosion.

She’s a fucking nuclear event, and I don’t know if I’ll survive the fallout.

* * *

She stirs against me, making a soft sound that goes straight to my cock. Again. Already.

“Hey.” Her voice is sleep-rough, satisfied. “What time is it?”

“Late. Or early. Depends on your perspective.”

She tilts her head back to look at me, and even in the dim light I can see the marks I left on her neck. Beard burn. Maybe a hickey or two. Evidence of what we are together—messy and fierce and completely out of control.

“You’re thinking too loud,” she says. “I can hear it.”

“Sorry. I’ll try to think quieter.”

“Or you could tell me what’s going on in there.” She taps my temple gently. “I showed you mine. Fair’s fair.”

God, she did. She showed me everything—every gasp, every moan, every vulnerable moment when pleasure overwhelmed her defenses. And now she wants me to do the same?

“I’m thinking about how beautiful you are when you come,” I say, deflecting. “Thinking about how I want to see it again. And again. And—”

“Jax.” She’s not buying it. “Real answer.”

I close my eyes. Take a breath.

“I’m thinking about how I’ve never felt this way before, and it scares the shit out of me.”

Silence. When I open my eyes, she’s watching me with an expression I can’t read.

“Felt what way?”

“Like I don’t want this to end. Like I want to wake up next to you tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.” I force the words out, each one harder than the last. “Like maybe my father was wrong about me. Like maybe I’m not as broken as I thought.”

Her hand finds my face, cupping my cheek with a tenderness that makes something crack open in my chest.

“You’re not broken,” she says. “You’re just scared. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

“Yes. Broken means you can’t be fixed. Scared means you just need someone brave enough to stay while you figure it out.” She presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I’m not going anywhere, Jax. Not unless you want me to.”

I should tell her to go. Should push her away before this gets any deeper, before I’m in so far that losing her would actually destroy me.

Instead, I pull her closer.

“Stay,” I whisper against her hair. “Please stay.”

* * *

The thing about Callie is that she doesn’t let me hide.

Other women have been satisfied with the surface version of me—the jokes, the swagger, the orgasms. They didn’t want to dig deeper, and I was grateful for it. Easier that way. Safer.

But she looks at me like she can see through all of it. Like she’s been cataloguing every deflection, every mask, every time I’ve used humor to avoid feeling something real.

“What are you thinking now?” she asks.

“That I want to taste you again.”

Her breath catches. “Jax—”

“Let me.” I’m already moving, sliding down her body, pressing kisses to her collarbone, her breasts, the soft curve of her belly. “Let me show you what I can’t say.”

She spreads her legs for me without hesitation, and I settle between them like I belong there. Because maybe I do. Maybe this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.

The first stroke of my tongue makes her gasp. She’s still sensitive from earlier—still swollen, still wet from everything we’ve already done. I could be gentle. Probably should be.

Instead, I devour her.

She cries out, hands flying to my hair, hips bucking against my face. I pin her down with one arm across her stomach and feast on her like she’s the last meal I’ll ever have. Licking, sucking, fucking her with my tongue until she’s shaking.

“Jax—fuck—I can’t—”

I pull back just enough to speak against her clit. “You can. You will. Come for me, Callie. One more time.”

Two fingers slide inside her as I suck her clit into my mouth, and she detonates. Her whole body arches off the bed, her inner walls clamping down on my fingers, a scream tearing from her throat that would wake the neighbors if we had any.

I don’t stop.

I work her through it, gentling my touch as the waves subside, then building her up again before she’s fully recovered. She’s crying now—not from pain, I know the difference—just from the overwhelming muchness of it all.

“I can’t,” she gasps. “I really can’t—”

“One more.” I curl my fingers inside her, finding that spot that makes her see stars. “Give me one more and I’ll let you rest.”

The second orgasm rolls through her like an earthquake, slower and deeper than the first. She goes completely still for a moment, then starts shaking uncontrollably, her whole body wracked with pleasure.

I crawl up beside her and gather her in my arms, holding her while she comes down. She’s laughing and crying at the same time, her face buried in my chest, her fingers clutching at me like I might disappear.

“You’re going to kill me,” she manages.

“Never.” I press a kiss to her sweaty forehead. “I’m going to keep you alive forever, just so I can keep making you come.”

She laughs—a real laugh, exhausted and delighted. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“I’m a romantic guy.”

“You’re a menace.”

“That too.” I tighten my arms around her. “But I’m your menace. If you want me.”

She tilts her head back to look at me, and her eyes are soft, satisfied, and something else. Something that looks a lot like the feeling currently trying to claw its way out of my chest.

“I want you,” she says. “All of you. Even the scared parts.”

I kiss her then—soft and sweet, tasting herself on my lips. Not the desperate kisses from earlier, but something gentler. Something that feels like a promise.

Don’t run, Ford said.

Okay, brother. I won’t.

Not from this. Not from her.

Not anymore.

* * *

I wake to sunlight and an empty bed.

Panic hits first—sharp and immediate. She left. She realized what a mess I am and she left and this is exactly what I deserve—

Then I smell coffee. Hear humming from the kitchen.

I pull on my jeans and follow the sound, finding her standing at the stove in nothing but my t-shirt, scrambling eggs like she lives here.

“Morning.” She glances over her shoulder with a smile that makes my chest tight. “I made coffee. Hope you don’t mind I raided your supplies.”

“I don’t mind.” I come up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, pressing my face into her neck. “I thought you left.”

“Without saying goodbye? Never.” She turns in my arms, looping her hands behind my neck. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

“What kind of girl are you?”

She pretends to think about it. “The kind who makes breakfast after earth-shattering sex. The kind who steals your shirts. The kind who—” She stops, biting her lip.

“The kind who what?”

“The kind who’s falling for you,” she says quietly. “Even though it’s probably too soon to say that. Even though this is complicated and messy and involves way more people than a normal relationship. I’m falling for you, Jax. And I thought you should know.”

I stare at her. This beautiful, brave woman who came into my life like a hurricane and somehow made everything make sense.

“I’m falling for you too,” I say. “In case that wasn’t obvious from my emotional breakdown last night.”

“It was a little obvious.” She’s grinning now. “But it’s nice to hear.”

I kiss her. Not desperate this time—slow, savoring, like we have all the time in the world.

Maybe we do.

“The eggs are going to burn,” she murmurs against my mouth.

“Let them.”

I lift her onto the counter and step between her legs, hands sliding up her thighs—my thighs, technically, since she’s wearing my shirt.

“Jax—”

“Breakfast can wait.” I drop to my knees in front of her. “I want to taste you again. Please.”

The please gets her. I watch her eyes go dark, watch her legs fall open for me.

“Well,” she says breathlessly. “Since you asked nicely.”

I grin and lean in, and the eggs definitely burn, and neither of us cares at all.

* * *

The End

Thank you for reading this exclusive bonus scene!

Want more of Jax and Callie’s story? The Mechanic is available now—and their journey is just beginning.

Book Three: The Landscaper introduces Silas Vane, who’s about to show Callie that some lessons don’t require words at all.

The Renovation Project: Eight men. One woman. One house that changed everything.

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