Abby
Jace kissed me, and my entire life seemed to grind to a halt, as if the planet had suddenly stopped rotating. His hands grazed my jaw to cup my head, his fingers sliding gently into my hair. Chills followed in the wake of his warm touch.
He tilted my head to one side and his mouth opened against mine. A satisfied sound slid up my throat, and I stood on my toes, wordlessly asking for more. Then brazenly taking it.
My head spun. All of the rules, and warnings, and consequences blew away like dead leaves in the wind, and what remained was fresh, and new, and green. I could breathe without that claustrophobic feeling in my chest—the wedding is coming, you’re all out of time, the wedding is coming—for the first time in years.
I wanted to touch and be touched, and that had never happened with anyone other than Jace. That was a fucking miracle, all on its own, and I jerked back with surprise at the realization.
Jace’s hands stayed at the back of my jaw, his fingers still curled into my hair. “You okay? Is this okay?”
“Yes. Don’t stop.” I turned to kiss his palm. “Please.”
His heartbeat spiked. “You sure?”
“So sure. I just…” I could feel my face flush. “You’re the only person I’ve ever kissed, and...” I shrugged. “I like it.”
His eyes widened. “Brian never…”
“Just on the cheek.”
“That boy is a fool,” Jace growled. Then he bent toward me and tilted my face up, and that was the kiss that changed my life. The kiss that opened my eyes and woke up my body, and showed me exactly what I’d been missing. That kiss was gentle, but it built with steady intensity toward a frantic climax that left me breathless, and astonished, and eager for more.
I’d never felt so desired in my entire life.
I kissed Jace back, taking my cues from him, and a primal sound of satisfaction rumbled from deep in his throat. His hands trailed over my cotton-clad shoulders, then guided my arms around his neck, where my fingers intertwined out of some instinct I hadn’t known I’d possessed. I only knew I didn’t want to let him go.
His tongue greeted mine, teasing lightly, and when I realized I could tease too, he made that sound again. It was more feline than human—a carnal growl of pleasure and fulfillment. He nibbled my lower lip, and I slid my hands into his hair as he kissed a slow, hot trail over my chin toward my neck, waking me up inch by blissful inch.
“Jace,” I whispered when his tongue reached my collarbone, and when he froze, I realized I’d broken whatever spell had possessed him. He took an abrupt step back, and the sudden loss of him shocked me like a bucket of cold water thrown over my head. “What’s wrong?” I asked, and his expression was carefully, horribly blank. “Am I messing this up?”
“You’re doing this exactly right.” His voice was the barely restrained rumble of a man about to lose control, but he didn’t look mad. He looked ravenous.
A tantalizing heat unfurled within me. He was telling the truth; I wasn’t the problem.
Yet there was a problem.
“You’re perfect. But I can’t do this again, Abby.” He turned away from me, and my heart fell into my stomach with an ice-cold plop. “Things are different now.”
Again? Now?
He was talking about Faythe, and that had ended badly for him. “But I’m not…” Faythe. Taken. In love with someone else.
“I can’t put my needs above the needs of the Pride.”
“You need me?” I whispered, stunned.
Jace turned to me again, and his eyes had shifted. The feline pupils were impossibly dilated—a testament to how desperately he was clinging to what little control he had left. “But it doesn’t matter,” he insisted. “I can’t have you.” Yet he reached for me without seeming to realize what his hands were doing. His fevered gaze trailed down from my face, and his pulse raced so fast, I got dizzy from the head rush. “I can’t even…”
He blinked, and I saw his willpower snap like a cord under too much pressure.
Jace took two steps forward, then his arms were around me. I gasped when he lifted me until my bare legs wrapped around his waist, and suddenly we were eye to eye. He kissed me again, and the angle was different.
Better.
Perfect.
I forgot about whatever pointless objection he’d been making. It couldn’t possibly matter, because nothing that felt this good could ever be wrong. I knew what wrong felt like. I’d had nightmares about wrong for years, and there wasn’t a single thing about Jace that didn’t feel exactly right.