Page 18 of My Girl to Use

I don’t remember moving first. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s me. Maybe we both give in at the same time. Because suddenly, there’s no space between us, and his hand is at my waist, pulling me in like he’s done holding back.

“Zora…” My name sounds different in his voice now. Lower. Rougher.

My fingers curl into his shirt before I can think about it, and when his mouth meets mine, it’s nothing like before. It’s slow at first, like he’s giving me time to change my mind. But when I don’t, when I lean into him instead, it deepens. Heat builds fast. Too fast, like something we’ve both been trying to ignore finally snaps.

I should stop. I should think. I don’t.

His hand slides up my side, steady, grounding, like he’s making sure I’m still with him, and I am. Completely. Every nerve feels awake. Every thought replaced by the way he touches me. The way he kisses me like he’s been wanting to for longer than he should.

“This is crazy,” I whisper against his lips, but there’s no conviction in it.

“Yeah,” he murmurs back, not stopping. “It is.”

I let out a soft breath that turns into something else when he shifts us, guiding me backward out of the living room and into the bedroom. I keep walking until the edge of the bed hits behind my knees. My pulse spikes. My grip tightens on him as I look up at his face. At the way his eyes darken like he’s trying to hold himself together.

And that’s when it hits me. It’s real.

“I…wait,” I say quickly, my hand pressing lightly against his chest.

He stops immediately. No hesitation. No frustration.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his hand dropping slightly like he’s giving me space but not pulling away completely. “Talk to me.”

My heart is racing too fast, my thoughts catching up all at once. “I’ve never…done this before.”

His brows pull together slightly.

“I’m a virgin,” I say, the words coming out in a rush before I can overthink them.

Silence. Not awkward. Just careful.

He studies my face, and whatever’s there doesn’t look like surprise. It looks like something being confirmed.

“Okay,” he says quietly.

I blink. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods, his hand coming up to brush lightly against my cheek, slower now, gentler. “We go at your pace.”

Something in my chest loosens at that.

“I don’t want to stop,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “I just…needed you to know.”

“I’m glad you told me.”

His thumb traces lightly along my jaw, his touch grounding, steady, like he’s giving me time to breathe again.

“I’ll make it good for you,” he adds softly, his gaze holding mine. “No rush. No pressure. Just…us.”

My breath catches slightly at that. And just like before, the doubt fades again.

I lean into him first this time, closing the distance. My lips brush his, softer now, but no less certain. He responds instantly, one hand steady at my waist, the other sliding gently into my hair. Everything slows.

Like he’s making sure I feel every second of it, every touch, every shift, every breath. And I do. I feel all of it.

His lips move from mine, slower now, tracing along my jaw, my neck, sending small, sharp waves through me that make it hard to think, hard to do anything but hold onto him. My fingers tighten against his shoulders, my body responding in ways I’ve never experienced before—unfamiliar but not uncomfortable, just intense.

“Jax…” I whisper, not even sure what I’m asking for.