“I’m going to memorize every single one,” I murmur against her skin. “Every mark. Every line. So I always remember everything we’ve been through to get here.”
Her breath hitches. “Jace—”
“You didn’t deserve these,” I say, tracing a particularly deep scar along her ribcage with my tongue. She shudders beneath me. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
A soft sound escapes her—half sob, half relief—and her hands find my hair, holding me to her.
“I see you,” I whisper. “All of you. And you’re so fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you.”
She pulls me up into a kiss—desperate and grateful and real.
Her hands move to my shirt, tugging it up. I help her pull it off, tossing it aside, and then we’re skin to skin.
The contact sends a jolt through me—heat and need and something deeper.
She presses closer, her breasts soft against my chest, and I groan into her mouth.
“Bree—”
“Don’t stop,” she whispers. “Please don’t stop.”
I won’t.
I can’t.
My hands slide lower, tracing the curve of her hips, the line of her thigh. She’s still wearing the loose sleep pants, and I hook my fingers in the waistband, pausing.
Asking.
She nods, lifting her hips, and I pull them down slowly—taking my time, watching the way her body reacts to every touch.
When she’s bare beneath me, I pause.
More scars. Along her thighs. The curve of her hip. One that runs from her navel down.
I trace each one with my fingertips, committing them to memory. Getting flashes of moments that aren’t mine.
“Jace,” she says, and there’s heat in her voice now. Need.
I lean down, pressing my mouth to her hip bone. Then lower. The inside of her thigh.
She gasps, hands fisting in the sheets.
The air stirs.
Not just in the room—aroundher.
My magic responds to the spike in my pulse, the way my hands shake as I touch her. But this time I don’t let it scatter aimlessly through the room.
I focus it.
A cool breath of air ghosts across her skin—down her sternum, circling her breast, teasing her nipple until it peaks.
Bree’s back arches off the bed. “Oh—”
I do it again. This time letting the current trace lower, down her stomach, swirling around her navel.
“Jace,” she breathes, and I can hear the wonder in her voice. “What are you—”
