When he finally sagged, wrecked and panting, I pulled my finger free gently and kissed his thigh.
Then I moved up over him.
His eyes opened, dazed. He looked at my mouth, my beard, my body above his. I was so hard it hurt. I pushed my briefs down enough to free myself and wrapped my hand around my cock.
Jace watched, breathing shallow.
I stroked fast, rougher than I meant to, the sight of him beneath me stripping away the last of my restraint. His chest was flushed. His cock softening against his stomach. His lips parted. Mine, some vicious part of me thought, not as a phrase to say, not as a claim he had consented to carry in public, but as instinct. As hunger. As the mark I could leave because the world had no space for the truth yet.
I came over him with a low groan, spilling across his chest in hot streaks. His breath caught as the first pulse hit his skin. I braced one hand beside his head and kept stroking until I was empty, until he was marked with me and watching me like it meant something neither of us could say safely.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then Tiny sneezed from the floor.
Jace blinked.
I dropped my forehead to his shoulder and laughed, quiet and helpless.
“That dog has terrible timing,” he said, voice rough.
“He thinks the same about you.”
I got a warm cloth from the bathroom and cleaned him carefully. He let me, eyes half closed, fingers brushing my wrist once as if checking I was still there. I cleaned myself, tossed the cloth aside, and got back into bed.
Jace turned toward me immediately.
I pulled him in.
The room was still gray. Morning waited beyond the curtains. Practice, calls, consequences, Olivia, Roman, all of it. None of it had disappeared because Jace slept in my bed or came in my mouth or wore me on his skin for a few seconds before I wiped him clean.
“I have to talk to Olivia,” I said.
Jace’s body tightened, but he didn’t pull away. “I know.”
“Soon.”
“I know.”
I pressed my hand between his shoulder blades. “And you have to talk to Roman.”
“Yeah.”
Tiny stood, stretched with a groan, then heaved himself onto the bed without permission. The mattress dipped hard. Jace made an offended noise as a hundred plus pounds of dog wedged against his legs.
“No boundaries in this house?” Jace asked.
“None that he respects.”
Tiny rested his chin on Jace’s shin and sighed, pleased with himself.
Jace looked at him, then at me. The guilt was still there in his eyes. So was the fear. But under it, something steadier had taken root.
“I don’t regret coming here,” he said.
My chest tightened.
“You may later.”
