Chapter Six
Jace
Iwake up with my cock hard. Not from some half-assed dream about a nameless girl I’ve hooked up with, and definitely not the usual morning boner my body gives me to remind me I’m still alive.
This is different, because this is her.
Bells.
She’s curled up against me on the couch, her arm draped across my stomach, fingers twitching now and then. Her face is turned toward mine, her breath warm against my skin.
She fits there. Christ. She really fits.
Fuck.
I don’t do this.
I don’t wake up next to girls and I never fucking let them use my arm as a pillow.
My arm under Lola is completely dead. Pins and needles shoot from my shoulder down to my fingertips, and a dull ache builds with each second I leave it there.
I stay still because I might wake her if I move. And if she wakes up, this changes.
That thought alone fucks with my head.
Girls don’t trust me. They lust after me. They flirt. They laugh too loud. They sure as fuck don’t curl up beside me and breathe me in like I’m something solid, something safe, or something worth holding onto.
I’ve never just laid with a girl and let the silence stretch. Never done anything that didn’t end with fucking and walking away.
That’s the rule. Get in. Get off. Get gone.
No lingering.
I’ve never wanted anything else.
Until now.
I glance up at the ceiling. I can’t believe I kissed her last night. My first kiss. Fuck, it was hot. Not soft or sweet or some awkward teenage shit. It was fire. It was her breath and her hands in my shirt, dragging me closer as if she didn’t trust the space between us. It was her mouth opening under mine, that quiet little sound she made when I pulled her flush against me. It was control snapping clean in half.
I almost lost myself in her.
I’ve done everything with a girl except kiss them. That’s always been the line, because kissing is close and personal. You can fuck someone and still act like they’re nothing. You can zip up your jeans and forget their name before walking out the door.
A kiss doesn’t work that way. It lingers. It settles under your skin. It brands. And now it’s everywhere. My lips still remember the shape of hers, the heat of her breath, and the way she whispered my name against my mouth.
God, I wanted more. So much fucking more.
I wanted to press her down into the couch and drag those sounds out of her until she couldn’t think straight. I wanted to see what she looks like when she comes. What sounds she makes when she does. Whether she gasps, trembles or digs her nails into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
God, I wanted to fuck her. But thank God I didn’t, because I know myself. Once I fuck them, something switches off. The chase ends, the thrill fades, and they become just another face I don’t care about. Another name I forget.
And I don’t want that to happen with Lola.
I don’t want to lose this.
Whatever this is.
It’s easy with Bells. She doesn’t demand anything I can’t give. She doesn’t try to fix me, tame me, or turn me into some version of myself that behaves. She lets me be the mess I am and still shows up with food and sarcasm.
