“So, were you just going to let me marry Brian without saying anything?” I asked, as we settled onto a couch I’d sat on dozens of times in my three and a half years in his Pride.
“I wasn’t going to be what came between the two of you.” He bent for another taste of my neck. “Not on purpose, anyway…”
His kisses burned across my skin, and my heartbeat set the tempo. Every touch sent tendrils of warmth to pool in sensitive places, but the best part was the satisfaction of long-held curiosity. After years of wondering what it would feel like to be touched, to be kissed, to be savored with a patient but eager passion, I was at last living in that moment.
And finally, I dared a bold touch of my own.
Jace made another guttural sound when my hand trailed from his hair down his neck, then over his chest, slowly. Feeling every flat plane and hard ridge. He was made of muscles, each one tense with anticipation, as if he craved contact, but was determined to let me forge my own path. I closed my eyes and let my hands wander while his mouth explored every inch of my neck and shoulders, pushing just past the neckline of my shirt to lick or nibble a neglected surface.
His tongue felt amazing, but the landscape my hands had discovered was equally compelling—Jace’s arms were bulge upon bulge of restrained power. I slid the cotton of his sleeves over each ridge as they bunched and stretched beneath my touch. Then, suddenly, I was sick of his shirt.
“Jace.”
“Mmmm?” he murmured against my collarbone, his breath cooling the warmth his tongue had just left there.
“Can I…” I tugged on the hem of his shirt, and he sat up to look at me.
“You can do anything you want.”
Anticipation buzzed beneath my skin as I slid my hands under his long-sleeved tee. My fingers bumped over each defined ridge of his stomach, and his eyes fell closed as he leaned back to let me explore. A low, pleasant sound rumbled from his throat. “I don’t know whether to tell you to stop or to go faster,” he growled, and the need in his voice echoed low and hot inside me.
“What if I keep going?” I said as my fingers found the lower ridge of his pectorals. “What happens after this?”
His eyes flew open, and his gaze burned into me like deep blue flames. “Lots of other things we don’t have to do tonight.”
I took a deep breath. “You said I could do whatever I want.”
His hands settled around my wrists and his focus on my eyes intensified. “Abby, there’s no hurry. Are you sure this is what you want?”
“No. But how can I know unless I try?” I kissed him, and my hands slid down his chest again, reaching impatiently for the hem of a garment I wanted to rip from his shoulders.
“Wait,” he said against my lips, and I growled when he removed my hands firmly but gently. Jace laughed, amused by my impatience. “We have plenty of time.”
“What about Luke and Isaac?”
“They’re patrolling for the next two hours.”
“Is that long enough?” I murmured against his neck.
Jace laughed again. “It’s a hell of a start.” He cradled the back of my head, his hand buried deep in my hair, and kissed me again. Then he leaned back against the arm of the couch and looked right into my eyes. “We can do whatever you want. We can stop any time you want, and if you do want to stop, I won’t be mad or disappointed. I don’t want to do anything you don’t like—if you’re not having fun, I won’t be either. And if you just want to sit here and hold my hand, I’ll still consider myself the luckiest son of a bitch on the face of the planet. Okay?”
I nodded, and the warmth spreading through me had nothing to do with desire or chemistry. Jace was giving me safety. Security. Power. Choice.
“So…now what?” My heart thumped so hard, I was sure it was all he could hear.
“What do you want to do?”
I thought about that for a second, and my gaze snagged on his shirt. I was fascinated by the way the material clung to him, highlighting every plane and angle in light and shadow from the end table lamp. “I want to touch you.” He was the first man I’d ever voluntarily touched and the only one I could imagine ever wanting to touch.
Jace’s gaze burned through me. “Say it again.”
My pulse swooshed in my ears, and I felt a little dizzy. “I want to touch you.”
“I’m all yours.” He leaned back against the arm of the couch and spread his arms, giving me free rein.