“I never had a reason to try before,” I say, and it’s the fucking truth. Raw and honest in a way that makes me feel exposed, vulnerable in a way I’ve never let myself be with anyone. “Not until you.”
Her breath stalls in her chest and her eyes go wide for just a second before they soften. Then she’s pulling me down, her fists in my shirt, dragging me to her as if she can’t wait another second. And I kiss her. Right here in the hallway, not caring who sees or what they think. I kiss her like she’s the only thing keeping me alive, because maybe she is. Maybe she’s the reason my heart keeps beating, the reason I get up in the morning, the reason I’m trying to be more than the screw-up everyone expects.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lola
Jace finds me setting up the downstairs room because today is the day. Today is the day my dad finally comes home. Jace is leaning against the door frame with that intense fuck-me stare that tells me exactly what’s on his mind.
This guy’s stamina is incredible. He kept me awake all night, fucking me senseless with that intense Jace style he has—hard, deep, and relentless—until I was begging him to stop and for more all at once. And the way he’s looking at me now like I’m prey, means he’s ready for round two.
“Are you going to help or just stand there watching?” I ask, straightening up from where I’ve been arranging Dad’s medications on the dresser.
His mouth curves into that slow, dangerous smirk.
“I’m helping,” he says, his voice still rough from sleep. “Providing moral support. Supervision. Making sure you don’t hurt yourself by bending over like that.”
“Right,” I say, fighting my own smile. “Because you’re so concerned about my safety.”
“I am,” he says, pushing off the doorframe and stalking toward me with that predatory grace he has. “Very concerned. Especially about the safety of that ass in those shorts.” His hand slides over my hip. “These should be illegal, Bells.”
“Jace,” I say, but it comes out breathier than I intended.
“What?” he asks innocently, his other hand joining the first, both palms now gripping my ass and pulling me close. I can feel his hard cock through his sweatpants.
“We don’t have time for this,” I say, but I’m already leaning into him.
“I know,” he murmurs against my neck, his teeth grazing my pulse point. “Doesn’t mean I can’t touch and remind you of what’s waiting for you later. I want to think about how wet you get for me. How your pussy clenches around my fingers when I—”
“Stop,” I breathe, grabbing his wrist, even though every part of me wants him to keep going.
He laughs, his breath hot against my ear. “You don’t want me to stop. Your body’s already responding to me. I can feel it.”
His other hand slides up to cup my breast through my bra, thumb brushing over my nipple until it hardens. “See? You want this as much as I do.”
I smirk, loving how he does this now—how he lets himself say exactly what he’s thinking instead of hiding behind that carefully constructed wall.
He looks tired, though. Shadows under his eyes, exhaustion showing in the way he carries himself. I don’t know if it’s from work, school, studying for his next test, or the fact that we’vebeen up half the night fucking like animals ever since he moved upstairs two weeks ago.
Two weeks. Two weeks of his hand clenched around my throat while he pounds into me. Of shower sex that leaves us both weak-kneed and gasping. Two weeks of waking up tangled together, of lazy morning kisses that turn into something more, of learning every inch of each other’s bodies, of discovering what makes him groan, what makes me gasp, and what pushes us both over the edge. Two weeks of this all-consuming, all-encompassing thing between us that shows no signs of slowing down.
At school, we all sit together during lunch now. Same seats every day. Sam stays beside Reece. Aubrey sits close to Noah with that quiet strength she now carries. I sit across from them, and Jace is always beside me.
The cafeteria is loud, as it always is, with people yelling across tables and chairs scraping the floor. But at our table, there’s a strange quiet awareness sometimes, because people stare. They try not to be obvious about it, but they stare. And I understand why.
Jace Cooper has always been the guy every girl whispers about. The fuckboy. The asshole. The guy who hooks up with girls and leaves before their panties are back up.
Only yesterday, Jace had his arm draped across the back of my chair, his fingers lightly brushing the back of my neck while he talked to Reece. His head turned slowly, his eyes fixed on a kid at the next table across from us.
“Got a problem?” he asked.
The kid froze.
Jace locked his gaze for a moment longer, then tilted his head slightly. “Keep staring,” he said softly. “See what happens when I get up.”
The kid immediately dropped his eyes. Jace went back to talking to Reece as if nothing had happened, his fingers absentmindedly sliding through the ends of my hair.
No one at our table reacted because that part of Jace is still very much alive. He’s still the guy people don’t test, the one who can quiet a room with a single look. The arrogant asshole walking through Eastern High with that lazy confidence and a mouth that gets him into more fights than it probably should.
