I watch the muscles move beneath his shirt. The controlled efficiency of his movements. The way his shoulders tense when he hears me shift on the mattress behind him.
"Jace."
He turns. Grey eyes finding mine in the dim light.
"Yes?"
I don't answer with words. Instead, I reach for him, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him toward me.
He comes willingly but carefully, settling onto the bed beside me, one hand braced on the mattress.
"Elliot. Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." I pull harder, bringing his face close to mine. "I need this. I need you. I need to feel something that isn't fear."
"Your ribs—"
"Are healing." I close the distance between us, press my mouth to his. "I'll tell you if it's too much. But right now, I need you to stop thinking and just touch me."
Something shifts in his expression. The careful control gives way to something hungrier, something that's been waiting beneath the surface.
"Okay," he says. "Tell me what you want."
"I want to be on top. I want to control it. I want—" I swallow, force myself to say it. "I want to ride you until neither of us can think."
His pupils dilate. I watch the black swallow the grey, leaving only a thin ring of color around the edges.
"Then take what you need."
I push him onto his back.
He lets me, going down easily, spreading himself across the mattress like an offering. His hands come up to my hips, steadying me as I straddle his thighs.
I've never been in this position before. Not with Moore, who only ever wanted me passive and compliant. Not with anyone. The power of it rushes through me like electricity, lighting up nerves I forgot I had.
I start with his shirt.
My fingers find the buttons, work them open one by one. Each inch of exposed skin makes my mouth water. His chest is afucking minefield of muscle and scar tissue, the evidence of a lifetime of violence written across his body.
I lean down and trace one scar with my tongue.
His breath catches. His hands tighten on my hips.
"Elliot."
"Shh." I move to another scar, this one curving along his ribs. "Let me."
I take my time. Mapping him with my mouth the way he once mapped me with his hands. Learning the texture of his skin, the salt taste of him, the places that make him twitch and the places that make him groan.
His nipples are sensitive. I discover this when I drag my tongue across the left one and feel his whole body jerk beneath me.
I do it again. Slower this time. Circling the peaked flesh before taking it between my teeth and biting down gently.
"Fuck." The word comes out strangled. His hips buck up, pressing his hardness against my ass. "Elliot, if you keep doing that—"
"What?" I look up at him, feeling bold in a way I've never felt before. "What will you do?"
His eyes are stormy now. His chest heaves with rapid breaths.
