A smile flashes across his lips so fast that I can’t be sure it was real.
“I’m not doing anything,” he drawls.
I shake my head and look down at the street below.
He sighs and smoke drifts through the air. Another minute passes and then he mumbles, “I suppose we should be adults and talk about last night.”
I stand up straight, suddenly alert. His eyes are dark, shadowed with an emotion I can’t decipher. I feel the need to protectively cross my arms over my chest, but I resist the urge. The last thing I want to do is look defensive. I need to appear relaxed and unaffected.
He continues to stare at me, neither of us saying a word.
“Jace,” I start and look away. I don’t know what to say.
I loved the kiss.
I want it to happen again.
I want you.
When I look back his jaw is clenched, and I don’t know whether he’s angry or trying to restrain himself.
I get my answer a moment later.
One step closes the distance between us. He grasps my waist in one hand, his fingers splaying over my butt, and his other traps the nape of my neck. He pulls me to him and his lips descend on mine. I’m shocked for a moment, but the shock quickly filters away and is replaced by pure lust. I yearn to get closer to him and he obliges, feeling the similar need and lifts me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist.
I’m aware of him walking and the door sliding open and the next thing I know my back is on the bed and Jace is between my legs.
He kisses me deeply and my back arches. My hands grasp the smooth skin of his face since he just shaved and I hope he doesn’t notice the slight tremble in my fingers.
He presses me down into the bed, our bodies and mouths moving in a rhythm all their own.
I feel like I’m losing every ounce of control I have, and I don’t even care.
His tongue tangles with mine, and I moan softly.
Holy fuck this is a million times better than last night.
My hands move to his hair, tugging on the strands, and he grabs them, pinning them above my head with one single growled word. “No.”
No has never sounded so hot before.
But I’m pretty sure he could say potato right now and I’d think that was hot too, so my opinion is a little cloudy.
Since my hands are restrained, I move my hips against his, needing to touch him in some way. I feel hot and achy all over and my clothes suddenly feel so tight I want to rip them off.
In between kisses, my breaths come out as heavy pants, and I hope like hell they sound sexy and not like a fat dog trying to go up the steps.
That’d be embarrassing.
“Confession,” he begins, and I pull in a lungful of air while I wait. “I fucking love these shirts.”
Then he lets go of my hand and jerks my shirt off, tossing it behind him, before lowering his mouth to mine again.
I have a collection of shirts with funny and sarcastic sayings. I figured he never even noticed them, he doesn’t make comments about what I’m wearing, but with that one simple statement he’s confessed so much more than I fucking love these shirts, he’s telling me he notices, that he pays attention to me more than I ever thought, and that fills me with so much joy it’s a bit ridiculous.
His lips move to the shell of my ear, and I shiver as he then traces a trail with his tongue down my neck and over the curves of my breasts.
“Jace,” I plead.