Jace lifts on his forearms to give me room. I turn onto my stomach. His hand is at the small of my back, sliding up to my nape, gathering my damp hair, and moving it off to one side.
He settles over me from behind. His breath is warm on my skin. “Okay with this?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me if anything is too much.”
“I will.”
Jace slides back into me. The angle is different. Deeper. A sound rips from my throat.
He holds still.
“I’m good,” I say. “Really good.”
He pulls me toward his chest. “Stay with me. I’ve got you.”
Then he moves, each stroke slow and deliberate. His hand slips between us, finding my clit. I bury my face in the rug.
“Look at you.” He sounds hoarse. “Taking all of me.”
“Jace.”
As his teeth graze the spot behind my ear, his rhythm picks up. I push back.
He grunts. “Whose? Tell me.”
“Yours.” My breath is shallow. “Yours…”
“Again.”
“I’m yours, Jace.”
His hips snap forward. He presses his face into the hollow of my neck and groans, raw and ruined and mine.
My second climax isn’t as loud as the first, but it’s deeper. The wave courses through my body, leaving me limp on the rug. Jace follows and doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
After a long minute, he kisses the skin behind my ear. Another spot on my shoulder.
“I’ve got you.” He speaks softly, his voice raw. “I’ve always got you.”
He eases out. Then he turns me in his arms and holds me.
Books are everywhere. Oliver by my elbow, spine up. Two westerns closer to the couch. A poetry collection fanned open.
His arm is heavy across my waist. His face is in my hair.
Then he wipes me with a warm washcloth. Pulls me to his chest on the rug. Covers us with the throw from the couch.
Jace’s fingertips run along my spine. “I’ll talk to Evelyn. About more shelving for the bookstore. In case she needs anything built.”
My heart bumps. “Yeah?”
“I used to build things. I’m going back to town.”
He says it, a plain statement of fact.
