I kind of do too…
I rest my forehead against his, noses brushing. His breath is uneven as he recalibrates something internal.
“Look at me.” He speaks as if the words leave him bare. “Don’t close your eyes.”
When did I close my eyes?
I hadn’t even noticed.
I oblige his request, gazing at him like it’s the first time. The sharp line of his jaw is a magnet, drawing my fingertips to dance along the edge. Tension pulls tight between his brows as he searches my face for warning signs or second thoughts.
There are none.
His hand slides higher, palm grounding and warm against my side, thumb tracing a slow arc that isn’t an accident. It’s not rushed either. His touch is seeking, and I answer by shifting closer.
That’s all it takes.
Jace kisses me slower than before, though not as desperately this time. It’s deeper, as if he’s staking a claim without a word. His lips move with mine, learning the language of my reactions, cataloguing what makes me breathe in or soften against him or tighten my fingers in his hair.
I feel him everywhere. Not just how he touches me, but in the way his thighs close in around me. The way his hand curves at my waist as if it already knows where it belongs. In the way he breaks the kiss just long enough to rest his mouth at the corner of mine, breathing me in.
“You’re not running,” he murmurs.
I shake my head. “No.”
“You’re not scared.”
“No.”
Jace leans back to give me a serious look. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” His thumb brushes my ribs again, the lingering pressure just enough to tickle. “I don’t want you thinking this is something you’re being pulled into without the option to back out if it isn’t what you want.”
“And what is it?”
Jace’s hazel eyes are a steady presence, grounding and mesmerizing.
“This is you choosing,” he says. “And me not getting in your way.”
Recognition twists in my chest. Not fear or doubt.
I tilt my head, pressing my mouth to his again, softer now. Even slower than before. It’s a kiss that takes nothing, only meant to prove I’m here with him.
He sighs into it, a sound that tells me I made the right choice.
We break apart, his hands settling on my hips. Grounding. Anchoring me in a way that feels foreign. He doesn’t turn us to lay me back on the bed. Instead, he holds me, forehead resting against my collarbone as he steadies his breathing.
“We should go,” he suggests quietly, like he hates the idea.
“We will.” I smile into his hair. “But not yet.”
I want to reclaim this violated space.
I tip his face up to look at me, and he kisses me like he can’t stop. He can’t breathe without it being my oxygen in his lungs.
Jace’s hands are everywhere, spanning my waist, sliding beneath my shirt, gripping my thighs like he needs to anchor himself before he floats away. He tugs me into his lap with a groan, pressing me down until I feel every inch of him, so thick and hard beneath his jeans, the promise of everything I already know and more.
