“I’ve been in a lot of rooms I wanted to burn down, Eris.” His voice drops to something I feel in my core. “This one? I wouldn’t just erase the traces of him. I’d burn it with him inside.”
I step fully between his legs, close enough that my thighs brush his, initiating a touch neither of us will deny. Jace doesn’t push me for anything beyond where he already holds me. But the way he looks at me, like I’m something holy and hunted and his all at once, fills me with need.
“You don’t have to erase him,” I explain, still teetering on the edge of what I should and shouldn’t say. “He’s not important.”
His hand lifts slowly, teasing the hem of my shirt. “You didn’t even read the note.”
“Because I don’t care what it says.” I meet his gaze. “He doesn’t get a voice here.”
Jace exhales, the sound relief and relenting, closing the topic.
I reach for him, weaving my fingers through his hair. He leans into the touch as if it’s something precious. Something no one else gets to do.
“You’ve been watching me since the night I downloaded the app,” I acknowledge, reveling in the epiphany. “You chose me before I even knew who you were.”
His hands slide up my sides, resting just under my ribs. “I don’t know why. We just… did.”
“Do you know now?”
“I don’t need to.” He holds my hand against his cheek, hazel gaze searching my face. “You are the only woman I want. No one else will ever capture me the way you have.”
Normally, this intimate exchange would send me running, terrified of giving myself over and losing some vital part.
But that feeling never arrives.
I tug his mouth to mine, kissing him softly. It isn’t like the first time. That had been drunk, wild instincts wrapped in tequila. This is deliberate, though it turns desperate as it unfolds.
Jace groans against my lips, the sound full of restraint and hunger he’s barely keeping leashed.
“Eris,” he breathes. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I do,” I murmur, pressing closer. “I’m very aware of what I’m starting.”
His hands grip my hips like he’s fighting the urge to drag me under him. “If I start, I won’t stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
This is the feeling that truly scares me.
Not Daniel, nor his fucking note.
Not even the creeping realization that I am just as obsessed as the men who built my favorite lie.
It’s howrightit feels to press myself into Jace’s arms. In this murder-apartment, in a bed I never share with anyone.
It’s howsafeI feel wrapped in danger.
Jace kisses me again, rougher this time, like he’s starving for affection and can’t bear the space between us any longer. His right hand cups the back of my neck, his left slipping further into my shirt to rest on my ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of my breast but going no further.
He’s giving me space to stop him.
I won’t take it.
He pulls back just enough to speak against my mouth. “If I touch you here… like this… I won’t pretend I don’t mean it.”
“Why do you keep pretending?” I tip his head back, fingertips under his chin as I force him to look up at me. “Stop. Show me what you want.”
Jace freezes for half a breath, and his internal war is clear in his expression. He wants to drop this act.
