I stand by the bookshelf. My clothes are soaked. Water streams down my back. My hands shake from the cold.
Jace is in the doorway, one shoulder leaning on the wood frame. Water runs along his forearms and beads on his fingertips.
He stares at me the way he couldn’t all week. Straight on. No more side-eye. His expression...
Open. Hungry. And the way his gaze holds mine, like I’m the only answer he’ll ever need, makes me feel utterly chosen.
Jace pushes off the doorframe and comes to me. The floorboards creak under his boots. He stops in front of me, close enough that I feel the cold water dripping off his clothes.
As my back presses against the bookcase, his lips move over mine. Tasting. Learning. A few nights ago, this was breaking. Now his tongue traces my lower lip, and I open for him. The low sound he makes is barely audible, but the possessive pull in his kiss claims me.
Jace pulls back and runs his thumb across my lower lip. “I want to do this right. We’ll make it to our bedroom eventually.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He peels the wet fabric of my shirt away from my skin and drops it on the floor. He unclasps my bra and slides the straps off my arms.
I’m bare from the waist up. I meet his gaze, unafraid.
Jace exhales a long, shaking breath. He wraps his fingers around my wrists and lifts them above my head, pressing my hands to the shelf. “Let me?”
“Yes.”
He pins my wrists loosely, a gentle tether. I can pull free anytime.
He kisses down my neck until his lips find the hollow of my throat where my pulse beats fast, and he stays there, breathing on my skin. My collarbone. The curve of my shoulder. Then lower.
His tongue licks the swell of my breast, and I gasp, and his breath is feather-warm. “I want to hear every sound. Don’t be quiet.”
As he sucks on my nipple, I tip my head toward the shelf, and a paperback hits the floor. “Jace…”
He switches sides. His tongue glides. His teeth graze. I pull against his hold on my wrists, a frantic need to touch him.
“Not yet,” he whispers. “Remember? I’m taking my time with you.”
He releases my wrists. His palms slide over my skin, mapping every curve. He unbuttons my skirt, pushes it down, and kneels in front of me.
His mouth finds the soft curve of my belly. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever touched. Every part of you. Do you understand that?”
My chest tightens. I nod. His thick, wet hair is between my fingers.
He pulls down my underwear and spreads me apart. “Ready for this?”
“God, yes.”
His mouth is on me, and I can’t think. He grips my hips, holding me steady. His tongue works, an assault that bleaches my vision white at the edges.
I moan, my fingers twisting in his hair. Books fall off the shelf every time my shoulder blades hit the wood.
He finds a rhythm that steals the strength from my knees. It’s almost too much. I push away, but he pulls me closer.
“Stay with me.” The vibration of his words sends a shiver through me, making me squirm. “Right here.”
He adds his fingers. Two slide inside me while his tongue keeps working. My back arches off the shelves.
He doesn’t rush me to the edge. He coaxes me, pushes me close, then eases back. Again, he brings me there, holding me longer each time, tension coiling until I tremble. “Please…”
“What?”
