His answering grin is sharp against my throat. “Good.” He flips me, quick and smooth, until my back hits the mattress and he’s over me, braced on one forearm. His other hand makes quickwork of my bra, pushing the cups aside to bare my breasts. His mouth closes over one, sucking until my toes curl.
“Jace—” It’s supposed to be a warning, but it comes out broken, needy.
“Yeah, baby. Say my name again.” He moves to my other breast, his hand sliding down, over my stomach, into my pants. His fingers find my center easily, pressing through the damp lace of my panties. “So wet already. You missed me.”
I bite my lip, hating that he’s right. Loving that he’s right.
He shoves my pants down, panties with them, until I’m bare and squirming beneath him. My hands find the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down enough for him to kick them off. His cock is heavy and thick in his hand, the head slick as he strokes once, twice, watching me watch him.
“Hold up,” he mutters, reaching to the nightstand. The soft rip of foil snaps my pulse even higher.
“Gonna feel every inch of me,” he says, lining himself up. “Gonna take me so deep you won’t think about anything but how good I fuck you.”
The first push steals my breath. My knees fall wider, the stretch almost too much, but my body’s already clenching around him, pulling him in.
“Jesus, Sarah…” His forehead drops to mine, his jaw tight, his control razor-thin. “You’re so tight. Feels like you were made for me.”
Every inch is a slow burn until he’s seated deep, hips pressed to mine. I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders, and he groans low in his chest.
We move together before I can think about it, my hips lifting, his driving down in a rhythm that’s filthy and perfect. His mouth is everywhere, my neck, my jaw, my lips, like he can’t stop tasting me.
“You feel this?” he grits out, thrusting harder. “Nobody else gets this. Nobody else will fuck you like I do.”
Every word pushes me closer. I’m clinging to him, panting into his mouth, my body tensing in that way that means I’m seconds away from breaking.
“Come for me,” he demands, one hand gripping my ass to pull me tighter against him. “Right now, Sarah. Let me feel it.”
I shatter with a cry, my walls clenching around him, my whole body arching into his. He curses and follows me, thrusting hard once, twice, before sinking deep and holding there, his breath ragged against my ear.
His skin is hot and damp against mine, every hard line of him pressed to me. My chest rises with his, our breaths dragging until they start to match. The weight of him is grounding, the kind of closeness that makes it too easy to forget everything else.
We stay tangled like that, his weight braced on his forearms, his chest pressed to mine. Slowly, his thrusts fade to nothing, replaced by the slow slide of his hand up my side, over my ribs, until it rests just under my breast.
For a long beat, neither of us speaks. The air is warm with the sound of our breathing.
“You have no idea,” he finally says, voice quiet but certain. “No idea what youdoto me.”
My chest tightens. I don’t answer. I can't, so I press my forehead to his and let the moment sit there between us.
We don’t talk about what this means. We don’t talk about how it’ll feel when morning comes. We just lie there, breathing the same air, pretending the world outside this bed doesn’t exist.
I’m still catching my breath, sprawled against his chest, when his phone buzzes on the nightstand. Jace shifts just enough to grab it, the warmth between us breaking.
He glances at the screen. “I should take this.”
I nod, but something about the way his voice softens when he answers makes my stomach tighten. “Hey… yeah. No, it’s fine. I’m up.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his hair as he listens. His tone is casual, but it’s not the voice he uses with me, it’s lighter, practiced. Like he’s flipped a switch and there’s a version of him I don’t get to see unless I’m listening from the outside.
I pull the sheet up and watch his back, the tension in his shoulders giving him away. Whoever it is, they get a version of him I don’t.
When he hangs up, I ask, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t look at me right away. “Just… my sister. She wanted to check in.”
It’s nothing, but it feels like something. Like I’ve missed a piece of the puzzle again. I want to ask more, but the moment is already slipping away, and pushing now would make it worse.
Instead, I say, “We shouldn’t do this again.”
The words taste like a lie the second they leave my mouth. Because I want to. Tonight. Tomorrow. Always.
