My breath catches. ‘God.’
“I needyou,” I tell her.
Sarah’s gaze drops to my mouth. “Good.”
Something inside me snaps into clarity. This isn’t just a distraction.
This is comfort.
This is us choosing each other in the middle of the wreckage.
I kiss her again, harder now. Sarah’s hands go to my tie, yanking it loose with quick, angry movements like she needs me out of this suit, out of this night, out of everything that isn’t her.
I let her.
My hands move to the zipper of her dress, and I pause, just for a second, looking at her.
Sarah’s eyes hold mine.
There’s no hesitation or doubt.
So I pull the zipper down slowly, letting the fabric fall away from her shoulders. The dress slides down her body, pooling at her feet.
She steps out of it, standing in front of me in lingerie that makes my chest go tight and my cock harden.
Not because it’s sexy, though it is.
Because she’s standing here with her heart cracked open and still offering me herself.
‘Chosen.’
My hands slide over her hips, firm. I kiss along her jaw, her throat, feeling her pulse jump under my mouth.
She arches into me, breath shaky. “Please,” she whispers.
I back her toward the bed, and she sits, then lies back, watching me like she needs to see my face.
I strip off my jacket, my shirt, and my pants. My movements aren’t frantic, but they’re not slow either. They’re controlled, deliberate.
When I reach her, my hands slide up her thighs and hook under the thin fabric of her panties, tugging them off in one smooth motion before I toss them aside. She lifts just long enough to undo her bra, letting it fall away as I climb onto the bed.
She reaches for me immediately, pulling me down into another kiss. Her legs hook around my hips, anchoring me.
I groan into her mouth, the sound low and rough.
Sarah breaks the kiss, dragging in air. “I need you,” she says.
The words hit me in the gut. ‘I need you too.’
I slide my hand between us, fingers moving over her, finding heat, finding slickness, and she shudders.
“Jace,” she breathes, and it’s half warning, half plea.
I keep my eyes on her face as I touch her, slow circles that make her hips lift, chasing more.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders.
“Look at me,” I murmur.
