Nova

Paris is beautiful.

The most stunning city I’ve ever seen or will ever see—I’m sure.

The architecture is beyond belief. Even the cafés are darling and unique. The whole city buzzes with an energy that’s infectious. I never want to leave. We’ve only been here two days—barely a dent in our ten-day trip, but eight more days is hardly enough. 

I stand on the balcony outside the flat we’re staying in. Ivy grows up the walls and clings to the iron railing. Instead of looking unkempt it’s like everything is a part of each other—meant to be there. There’s a small table with two chairs on the balcony, and Jace and I have sat out here eating breakfast both mornings. It overlooks another apartment building across the street with crumbling stone walls and stained-glass window detailing, and more ivy, of course.

Below me on the streets people pass by on bicycles, pedaling fast to get to their destination.

A man rings the bell on his bike and throws out his hand, angrily shouting something at a driver in French. The driver leans out his window, shouting something back. 

The biker shakes his head and peddles away, while the driver slams on his gas leaving a trail of exhaust billowing through the air.

Hands grip my waist, turning me around.

I smile a moment before Jace’s lips meet mine.

They’re warm, melting against mine like ice cream on a warm summer’s day.

I wrap my arms around his neck while his fingers fist my shirt at my back. Cool air blows against the exposed part of my back and I shiver. 

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing his forehead to mine. “You taste delicious.”

“Must be the fruit I ate. It was sweet.”

He shakes his head, his blond hair tickling my skin. “No, no,” he chants. “It’s you.”

I smile and he presses another quick kiss to the corner of my lips.

“What do you want to do today?” he asks, kicking out one of the chairs and flopping into it. His long legs bump the bottom of the table and he grimaces, readjusting his position. 

I sit in the opposite chair and tap my fingers against the tile tabletop. 

“The catacombs,” I reply.

Most people would want to tour all the beautiful historic landmarks—and I want to do that too—but I’ve always said if I ever made it to Paris I couldn’t leave without seeing the catacombs.

The fact that the remains of six million people are underground one of the most stunning cities in the world fascinates me to no end.

What can I say? I’ve always been different.

Jace nods. “Sounds interesting.”

“There are dead people,” I tell him.

He grins. “When you said catacombs it was a tip there were dead people involved.”

“Right,” I agree. “So, you don’t mind going?”

He stares at me intently, his green eyes narrowed. “Haven’t you figured out by now I’d do anything for you?” Before I can respond, he adds, “The catacombs sound interesting to me.”

I stand, pressing my hands to the tabletop. “I’ll shower and get ready then.”

I start to head inside but I pause and bend down, pressing my lips to his stubbled cheek and then whispering in his ear, “I know you’d do anything for me, and the same is true of me with you.”

I disappear inside and shower.

I change into a pair of high-waisted, ripped, black skinny jeans, a gray t-shirt, and my jacket. I put on a pair of heeled boots and slick my hair back into a ponytail, a few pieces escaping from the confines of the elastic. I appraise my outfit in the floor-length mirror across from the bed and laugh to myself. Thea would be proud. Maybe I actually have a decent sense of style after all.

I glance around the flat we rented, taking in the open space. Like our apartment at home most of the space is open to each other, except for the bathroom. 

All the walls are white, with thick beams on the ceiling, and creaky wood floors that look original and boast lots of wear and tear.

The kitchen is small, barely enough room for one person, but it works. 

To the left of the kitchen is the living area with a love seat, a coffee table with scattered magazines all in French, and a TV the size of a cracker box.

There is no dining table, all we have for eating is what’s on the balcony. But it’s so beautiful there we haven’t minded and the weather has been perfect.

Across from the living room and kitchen is the bed with two small nightstands and lights embedded in the wall above each. Beneath the bed is a large oriental rug with deep reds, purples, and blues. It’s some of the only color in the space. So much is white, white, white, but it works. It’s bright and makes the space seem larger.

The bathroom, which I just came from, has tiled black and white floors, a claw foot tub, a shower small enough to be one on an airplane, and a small pedestal sink with a cracked mirror above it.

It’s definitely not the nicest place but it’s homey, and I’m glad we chose it over a hotel.

Jace sits on the end of the bed, tying his heavy boots. He then slips a beanie on and deems himself ready.

We exit the flat and step out onto the narrow sidewalk. There’s barely room for us to walk side by side. It’s riddled with cracks and holes, grass peeking through intermittently. 

My boot catches in one of the holes and Jace’s hand shoots out, catching my elbow. I stumble back into his body and laugh.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll always catch you.”

When I’m steady, he lets me go and we continue on our way. 

We catch a taxi and I tell the man we want to go to the catacombs. He peels out into traffic, driving like a crazy person. European traffic is not for the faint of heart. I thought American drivers could be crazy, but they’re nothing compared to this. Yesterday, I saw a person in a crosswalk nearly get hit by a motorcycle. People want to get to their destination and they don’t care if you’re in their way—they’ll run right over you.

The driver drops us off, and after we pay him he drives away, tires screeching. 

I shake my head and look at Jace. “These drivers are going to give me a heart attack.”

He chuckles and rubs his fingers over his mouth. It’s a nervous habit he developed after he quit smoking. It’s like his body still longs for them and he can’t resist the twitch in his fingers.

I’d prefer to tour the catacombs on our own, but since we’d probably be lost for all eternity we end up buying and join the tour.

We’re led deep underground with a group of people, mostly tourists, all speaking different languages. 

Lights speckle our way, so we’re not in total darkness, but there’s something still entirely eerie about it. 

Knowing we’re this far underground, it almost feels like we’ve been buried alive, which begins to build a panic in my chest. 

I dam it down, refusing to be a pansy.

The skulls line the wall in a seemingly endless stack. Everywhere I look are more and more skulls, all watching us, almost like they’re pleading for someone to help them.

I take photos when I can, astounded by the creepiness, but also by the fact that there’s something sort of beautiful about it. All those people. All those different stories. All those lives. They’re real people who lived once upon a time. They had good days and bad. They aren’t much different from us—except for being dead, of course.

The tour guide is speaking, and Jace bends down to my ear.

“Confession: This place is creepy as fuck.”

A laugh bubbles out of my throat and I slap a hand over my mouth to hide it, but I’m too late. The tour guide and group all turn to look at us. 

Embarrassed at being caught, my cheeks flame. “Sorry.” I wave. “It won’t happen again.”

The tour guide gives me a stern look and then resumes her speech.

We’re led further through the catacombs, past more and more skeletons. 

It’s amazing how many people are buried down here.

It’s even more amazing to me how many people a year visit this place to gaze upon them.

People have always had an astounding curiosity with death. We like to pretend death doesn’t exist, that we’ll live forever, and yet we’re drawn to places like this where death surrounds us. 

The tour ends all too soon, but I got a decent amount of pictures and that counts for something. 

“I’m starving,” Jace announces as we step outside into the daylight.

Both of us blink rapidly, growing accustomed to the sunshine once more. 

“Me too.” My stomach rumbles as I think of food. 

We catch another taxi and get dropped off in the heart of the city where there’s more action.

Hand in hand we walk the streets, browsing the menus until we settle on a little café. It’s not too expensive and the food and coffee smell like heaven from the outside.

We head inside and manage to get a table by the windows. 

We order two coffees while we look over the menus and decide what we want. 

I roll my neck and let my hair down. I’ve let it get too long and now when I have it up for too long it starts to give me a headache. 

“Are you okay?” Jace asks, picking up on my actions.

“I’ll be fine once I get some coffee.”

Coffee fixes everything.

He nods and turns back to his menu but continues to watch me from the corner of his eye.

I feel better with my hair down. 

I lift the menu and squint. 

I should’ve taken a second language in high school. 

The French on the page before me makes no sense. 

I pull out my phone and turn to trusty Google and hope it can help me decipher the menu.

The server drops off our coffees and I mumble a polite, “Merci.”

It’s practically the only word I know in French other than bonjour. 

Jace and I finally settle on something to eat and order our meals.

I prop my head in my hand, my elbow on the table, and turn to him. “This would be much easier if one of us knew French.”

He chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that? I like the surprise of not knowing everything. It makes the adventure more exciting.”

I absorb his words, taking them in. I nod. “That’s an interesting take on it.”

I pick up my mug of coffee, steam billowing off of it, and take a sip. Coffee, no matter where it’s from, is a necessity of life.

Jace watches me drink my coffee with a little smirk on his lips.

“What?” I set the mug down. “What are you looking at?”

His smile grows and he reaches over, swiping his finger over the top of my lip, catching a bit of foam clinging there, and sucking it into his mouth. 

I swallow thickly, my pulse pounding. The café fades away and it feels like it’s only the two of us here. His green eyes darken and his top teeth slide along his bottom lip, looking at me like he wants to devour me.

Plates clank down on our table, breaking the spell.

I can’t even thank the server because my throat is tight. I force my gaze away from his and look down at my food. It looks delicious and smells even better.

I can still feel Jace’s eyes boring into the side of my head, but I ignore him. I know the look he has and there’s nothing we can do about it here. 

I pick up my sandwich and take a bite, moaning in the process. It tastes unlike anything I’ve ever had before. There’s some kind of spread on it that adds a unique flavor that I can’t decipher.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Jace shake his head and dig into his own meal.

We finish eating and step out onto the street.

“Do you want to go back to the flat?” he asks, nodding in the direction we’d need to go.

I shake my head. “I want to go to the Eiffel Tower.”

He chuckles. “But we were there yesterday … and the day before.”

“So?” I question. “It’s beautiful, and it’s not like we get to see it every day at home.”

“You have a point,” he agrees. “All right, come on.”

He holds out his hand to me and I take it gladly. It’s warm and nearly swallows mine whole.

We walk the bustling Paris streets toward the Eiffel Tower. The number of people on the streets slows us down, though with Jace’s tall build and long legs he easily plows through most people, leaving disgusted looks behind us.

I apologize profusely to those people, but they either don’t understand or don’t care.

The Eiffel Tower comes into view in the distance and Jace speeds up his steps. I struggle to keep up. I have to take three steps to his one.

Jace glances back at me and sees he’s practically dragging me and lets out a choked laugh. 

“Sorry, babe.” He instantly slows and I breathe a sigh of relief. 

We walk leisurely the rest of the way there until we stand where we can view it. 

“There’s something magical about it,” I murmur.

“Yes, there is,” he says softly, but when I glance at him out of the corner of my eye he’s not looking at the tower. 

He’s looking at me.

We stand there a few more minutes before I separate my hand from his and grab my camera from its case.

“Excuse me? Sir?” I call out to a man passing by and he stops. “Would you mind taking a picture of us?” I ask.

He smiles kindly and takes the camera. I show him how to snap a photo and then I return to Jace’s side.

I intend to have a photo taken of us smiling in front of the tower, but Jace has other plans.

He turns me to face him and my lips part with a question but before I can ask it, he bends his head and kisses me. I gasp and his tongue sweeps inside. My fingers grasp at his jacket as he leans me back, deepening the kiss.

After what feels like an eternity he lets me up and I stumble back, woozy from lack of oxygen. 

The man taking our photo chuckles and holds out the camera. “Young love … It is a beautiful thing,” he says in lilted English. 

I take the camera from him. “Thank you.”

He nods and heads off on his way again.

I glance up at Jace as I tuck my camera back in its case. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Exactly.” He winks, adjusting his beanie. 

I finish with the case and lean into him. “That wasn’t nice.”

His eyes sparkle. “On the contrary, I think it was very nice.”

His eyes glance over me from head to toe and I shiver.

After Owen, I didn’t believe love lasted forever. I figured after so long, after it was no longer new, you’d grow sick of each other.

But Jace has taught me that it only gets better.

Each moment with him ignites butterflies in my stomach. 

It still feels new and exciting.

It’s all still wonderful.

“Let’s go home,” I whisper.

His eyes flash with desire. “Fuck yes, it’s about time.”

We catch a taxi and the drive back feels like it takes forever. 

The desire between us is pulsing, filling the small area of the taxi to the point of exploding. 

When the taxi finally stops outside the flat Jace throws a wad of bills at the man, way more than he’s owed, and drags me out of the taxi into the building.

We stumble up the narrow staircase, leading to our second floor flat.

Jace fumbles in his pocket for the key and when he finds it the door swings open harshly, slamming into the wall.

The door closes behind us and I squeak as I find my back pushed against it.

Jace presses his lips to my mouth, pinning my hands above my head so I can’t touch him.

“Don’t move,” he warns.

I let out a sound of despair, desperate to touch him, but at the same time not being able to touch him makes my desire spike tenfold.

He glides his lips down my neck, to the top of my breasts, his tongue leaving behind a wet trail.

I whimper, my hands bucking against his hold, which only makes him tighten his grip. I’m not going anywhere unless he lets me.

“Nice try,” he whispers, his tone amused.

My heart thunders, threatening to gallop out of my chest.

He lets go with one hand, using the other to keep my hands above my head.

He trails the fingers of his free hand under my shirt, tracing around my naval, and I shiver. He smirks, liking the effect he has on me from such a simple thing. My body is desperate for his, for everything he can give me, and he knows it.

He glides that finger lower, over the seam of my jeans and my hips buck.

“Jace.”

“Shh,” he croons.

His lips settled over mine, his tongue begging for entrance and I give it to him. My legs raise, wrapping around his waist. He presses his hips into mine and I moan, feeling his hardness. 

He’s being a fucking tease and it’s making me mad, but also incredibly turned on.

Sometimes Jace likes to play games, and this is definitely one of those times.

My skin pricks with need, but he continues to kiss me like we have all the time in the world. 

His lips unlatch from mine and he sucks on my neck. I know there will be a mark left behind for the world to see I’m his. He’s being dominating tonight—showing me no matter what I might think he’s always in control.

He finally lets go of my hands and I wrap them around his neck.

He doesn’t move me away from the door. Instead, we stare at each other, both struggling to catch our breath.

He drags his tongue slowly across his lips. 

“Confession: I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

My whole body tightens in anticipation at his words. Before I can blink I’m whipped away from the door. I hold tightly to him as he carries me to the bed. He lays me across it and steps back, surveying me. I struggle for breath as he stares at me. I’m fully clothed still but he looks at me as if he can see right through them to all of me. 

I start to sit up, wanting to reach for him, but he shakes his head sternly and I frown as I lie back, pulling my hair from the ponytail as I go. My hair fans around me and my chest rises and falls heavily with each shaky breath.

Jace stares at me, his eyes scanning me from head to toe like he hasn’t seen me in this position before.

After a minute or two, he clears his throat and orders, “Strip. Now.”

I know he doesn’t mean he wants a striptease. No, he wants my clothes off as fast as humanly possible.

I stand and let my coat fall to the floor. Then I kick off my shoes. Shirt next. Jeans. And when I’m left in nothing but my bra and panties he growls and pulls me to him, ripping my lacy panties from my body and making quick work of my bra.

Jace’s hand wraps around my throat, applying pressure, but not so much I can’t breathe. My head tilts back and I let out a soft moan as his lips glide down my neck, over my shoulder, between my breasts, and to my stomach. He circles his tongue around my naval and then drops to his knees. 

He looks up at me, his green eyes nearly black. 

“You were fucking made for me.”

With those words, he takes his kisses further, pressing them to my inner thighs and down my legs. He moves back up, wrapping his hands around my thighs, and I squeak when he grabs me and pushes me onto the bed, my legs around his shoulders. 

The squeak turns to a moan when he licks my center.

I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to beat any faster, but it does.

When my hips start to move he holds them tight and lifts his head long enough to give me a death glare.

It only turns me on more. 

Jace angry and sexy and dominating is the hottest thing on this planet.

My body tightens all over and I grasp the sheets, so close, so close.

And then he stops.

I cry out in protest and he flips me over, lifting my hips in the air.

He slaps my ass and leans over my body, his breath tickling my ear.

“You’re not coming until I’m inside you.”

I mewl again, listening as he removes his clothes.

Each second stretches into infinity.

He teases the tip of his cock inside me and pulls back.

I bite my lip to keep from protesting, knowing he’ll only draw out the torture longer.

The bastard.

He pushes in a little farther and pulls back out again.

I let out a small whimper and he chuckles, then pushes in all the way.

“Oh, my God,” I cry out.

He grabs my long hair, wrapping it around his fist and tugging me until my back is flush with his front. He continues to move his hips as he whispers gruffly in my ear, “You’re mine, Nova. You hear me? You’re fucking made for me.”

I lean my head back against his shoulder so I can look at him. “Yours,” I mouth.

He growls and kisses me roughly, sucking my bottom lip. 

He releases my hair and his hands glide from my hips up to my breasts, cupping them in my hands.

Jace lowers his head to my shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the skin, before digging his teeth in hard enough to make me yelp. He chuckles and licks the spot affectionately.

He pulls out and flips me around, pushing me back down again.

His eyes narrow on me, hooded with lust, and he growls low in his throat.

His big body descends on mine, swallowing me whole.

My legs open to accommodate him and I look down, watching as he guides himself back inside me. I moan, but a second later his mouth is there swallowing the sound.

Our intense connection has always been slightly unnerving, but if it would suddenly disappear I don’t think I could bear it.

Jace’s hands find mine and he pins them above my head, but he doesn’t hold them forcefully like he did against the door. His fingers curl into mine and he kisses me until I lose my breath and forget my name.

My orgasm hits me before I see it coming. I rip my mouth from his, crying out. He presses soft kisses to my neck, a stark contrast to his rough movements.

My hips rise to meet his begging for more.

It isn’t long until I’m coming again and he falls with me.

Both of us are lost but found at the same time. It’s a strange feeling.

He wraps his large body around mine, curling protectively around me, and I lay my head on his chest. His heart beats steadily as he runs his fingers through my hair.

“It just gets better and better,” he murmurs.

I close my eyes, a smile touching my lips, because he’s right and I can’t wait to see what our future holds.