Dangling over a man’s shoulder shouldn’t be as hot as it was. What was wrong with her that the moment Jace picked her up she went liquid? She should be screaming about being treated like a piece of meat or spout something from a feminist manifesto, and instead, all Stella could think was ohmygodyes.
Jace stormed up the stairs like she weighed nothing at all, which only heightened the fantasy that she’d driven him so insane with need that he couldn’t wait to have her. The idea of being that wanted sizzled through her, sweeping away most—if not all—of her angst about the comparisons that she’d become convinced he was running through his head.
He said he wasn’t. She wanted to believe him. But she had no context for this kind of “fun,” and odds were good she was going to keep screwing it up. Maybe it was better to just end it right now for everyone’s sake.
As he blew through the door to her apartment for the second time that night, she couldn’t do it. Selfishly, she loved the way he made her feel, and he’d promised this was a temporary fling. She clung to that as tightly as she clung to him.
He let her slide to the floor, and bent his head to nibble on her throat as he backed her toward the bedroom, murmuring wicked things in her ear that set her body on fire. When the backs of her legs hit the mattress, he stripped her so fast that she gasped and then swallowed it as he got just as naked.
Well then. She gorged herself on the sight of Jace Custer in all his buff glory because she really, really couldn’t see that enough. His enormous erection made her squirm. It hadn’t been that long since the last time he’d been inside her, and yeah, it was a little silly to have flipped out over whether he cared about her skills in bed. Obviously, he was where he wanted to be.
But he didn’t leave that assumption to chance.
“I want you on top this time,” he murmured. “Where you can watch me make love to you.”
There was not a thing wrong with that plan as far as she could tell. She let him pull her onto the bed, and the first searing kiss lit her up so fast that her hips took on a mind of their own, circling against his urgently.
He groaned and resituated her so she was straddling him, her heated core dead center on his erection, and oh God, it was huge and hard, and her slick center ached for it.
“I need to feel you,” he ground out through tight lips, his fingers closing around a condom without looking, and within moments, he was sheathed and pushing into her.
Her breath caught as he slid deep and deeper still until she closed around him fully. And then he froze, letting her adjust, and she took that brief second to drink in the magnificent man beneath her thighs. In the light, he was ethereal. Beautiful. The brutally chiseled planes of his torso were like nothing she’d ever seen in real life, made more heartbreaking by the torn slashes along his side.
That’s where she let her fingers drift. The ridges were corded, angry. But the purest sense of connection flooded her the moment her fingertips sank into the shallow wounds, and then the light shone on the inside as he flexed his hips, pushing deeper. Waves of heat spilled through her. She rode it, taking him with her as she matched him stroke for stroke.
Jace caught her gaze, his brown eyes so wide and clear as poetry poured from his mouth. You catch my soul on fire, your hair is like the setting sun reflected on the water, you’re my window to heaven. The phrases bled through her, and she couldn’t look away, and oh God, her pulse skipped too many beats, and she couldn’t breathe when he looked at her like that.
He shouldn’t be looking at her like that, as if she meant something to him, something special. Something other than a good time. She shouldn’t like it so much.
His hands gripped her waist, holding her in place. Good thing. Otherwise, she’d float away on a sea of bliss and confusion. This felt different than the first time. More intense—and in the dark, the sensations had been heightened to the point of legendary. This was not sex. It was something else, something she didn’t want to name, didn’t want to think about.
But still was.
The sensations built on themselves, flinging her higher. His fingers did some walking down her backside, stimulating her in places she’d never been touched. She bit down on her lip, determined not to be gauche about it, but his caresses were mind-altering. God, did he know how to touch her, and what he was doing was so dirty but so good, and the orgasm whipped through her like a tornado. He climaxed at the same time, and the pure carnal heat in his expression tripped something inside her. She cried out, riding the surge to fulfillment with no shame because she could walk away tomorrow if it got to be too much.
Her bones melted, and she collapsed on his chest. Arms tight around her, he kissed her temple and held on.
“So beautiful,” he murmured over and over, and she lost track of whether he meant her or the experience or both. “You blow my mind. You’re the only woman I can even think about, Stella. The only one I want.”
His pretty words went a long way. His selfless and enthusiastic lovemaking went even further. “I’m over it, Jace. You don’t have to butter me up. I solemnly swear I will stop freaking out about our sex-only relationship.”
The fingers he’d tangled in her hair stilled. “That wasn’t flattery. I’m serious.”
“Sure.” She laughed self-consciously. “Until next week when it stops being fun. Then we shake hands and part friends, right? You’ll find another woman to spout poetry to while getting her off with your gorgeous mouth.”
God, how had she gotten that vile sentence out without throwing up? Yet she’d managed to make it sound like him moving on was not only perfectly okay but expected. Yay.
It was so, so not okay. It needed to be okay. He wasn’t hers to keep, and even pretending like he was would eventually lead to one or both of them getting hurt.
But Jace sat up, taking her with him, and gripped her shoulders as he got the strangest look on his face. “Stella, I’m not moving on next week. Or the week after that. This is the real thing.”
“The… what?” She blinked. “What do you mean, you’re not moving on? Of course you are. We talked about it. This is fun, dirty sex with no strings.”
Wasn’t that what they were doing? A tiny bit panicked, she scoured her memory for where she might have gotten off track on the parameters of this sexual venture but came up empty. She’d told him she wasn’t up for anything serious. He got that he would eventually want different things, things she couldn’t give him, right?
“Well, yeah. We did talk, and yes, it’s totally fun, totally dirty sex.” His smile didn’t reach wolfish proportions, and that’s when her pulse flipped over on itself. “But there’s more here. You have to feel it. Stella, don’t.”
He threw up a hand, fingers spread as she opened her mouth to argue.
To lie.
“Don’t,” he pleaded. “Just listen for a sec. I know you said you weren’t relationship material, but that was just another barrier because you think I’m not old enough for you. Or because you think I’m a player, I don’t know. Neither of those are true. Haven’t I proven that to you?”
Speechless, she stared at him. When he said they were going to have a conversation with the lights on, she’d naively thought that meant sex. Sex, she could handle. An actual conversation that was shedding all kinds of light on things she wanted kept in the dark wasn’t working for her. “I said that because I don’t want to be in a relationship. With anyone. You’re not old enough, and you are a player. Those are things that made you wholly attractive to me for a hot, dirty fling. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”
“So you’re really just here for the orgasms.”
It should have been a joke. That was what they’d agreed on. But the expression on his face broke her heart. “I’m here because you’re amazing. You brought me flowers, and you flirt with me instead of customers. You’re patient and kind and so good in bed that you—”
Made me rethink everything. She swallowed that. Oh God. He was amazing. So much more than a hot fling, and she could hardly lie to him let alone herself. But it didn’t matter. Yeah, she’d hidden behind a lot of barriers for very good reason. No one got hurt that way.
And hurting this wonderful, sensitive man was not happening.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I get it. You don’t believe that I’ve really changed.”
Oh God. He still thought this was about him. “Jace, I’m divorced because I’m not good at this stuff. You don’t want to get involved with me.”
Lame. And nowhere near the whole truth.
He waved that off in his typically dismissive fashion. “Please. I’m already involved with you, and frankly, I think your ex is an idiot.”
That got a big smile out of her. “You’d be correct. But we’re not—”
“Involved? The hell we’re not.” Expression fierce with possessiveness and longing and a thousand other things that she should make him shut off right now, he took her hand in his and held it against his thigh. He was totally at ease with being undressed while barreling ahead with this agenda that wasn’t anything close to what should be happening between them while naked. “You can spout a bunch of crap about being divorced all you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not looking for the next conquest. I want to be with you. I want to sleep in your bed, take you to the beach, roll your wall back every day at seven. Nothing you say can make me stop wanting that. Let’s just do that and worry about what to call it later.”
There was so much wrong with that speech that she couldn’t figure out where to start dismantling it. The problem was that she didn’t want to. God, she wasn’t actually wavering, was she? “And then what?”
He laughed. “We have a lot of fun, dirty sex. I’m not trying to push you into something you don’t want. Just something, because it’s too good to let go.”
“As long as you hear me when I say I’m not one of those women who sit around dreaming about having a man’s babies and fretting about my ticking biological clock.”
Not anymore anyway. Her clock was broken. Permanently. Even the thought of her IUD failing made her stomach lurch. They’d used condoms. Surely double protection meant she’d never have to lie in a hospital bed after hours of difficult labor to hear the doctor say it had all been in vain and she wasn’t taking home a baby with her after all.
She couldn’t. Never again. Jace deserved better.
The hand holding hers tightened. He wasn’t letting go. “All I’m saying is don’t rule out the idea that we’ve got something good here. Stop talking about walking away, and live in the moment. I’m not going anywhere just because we’ve slept together. How could I even do that now? You’re a wet dream. An older woman who can teach me a thing or two. I suggest you get started right away.”
There came that wolfish smile, and she almost smiled back. Because it would be easier to fall back into the fantasy and pretend he hadn’t just shifted the focus away from the fact that he’d fallen in a lot deeper than he should have. Than either of them had expected. If she’d known he was harboring that kind of soul, she’d have steered clear. He was supposed to be the one with no-strings experience, and she’d counted on him to call it off because she was weak and selfish.
“But—”
“No buts. Unless you’re asking me to explore yours.” He started outlining her knuckles with his wicked fingertips, which pretty much shoved all thoughts out of her head except those of the carnal variety. “I’ve only just gotten started.”
And then he did the thing she least expected by snapping off the light and rolling her into his arms to lie there with her in the dark. “Um, what are we doing?”
“Shh, this is the sleeping part.” He stroked her hair, and it was so soothing that she took his suggestion and closed her eyes. “You need your strength for the things I have planned to do to you in the morning, and besides, we have a long week ahead of us. Señor Hipster is opening on Friday, and we’ve got a lot to do.”
They did. No, she did. There was no they. But as she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t sell that lie even to herself.