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“It is inyou. I think he likes me too,” I whisper, trailing my finger lower to where his trimmed hair tickles my fingertip, his muscles twitching.
“He’s an aggressive guy,” Jace whispers. “Getting too excited already at your touch.”
“So, what does it take to tame that guy?”
“Maybe a couple of kisses.”
Is this even Jace?
A breath hitches in my throat.
Game on.
I pull the sheet lower, unwrapping his hardness like a gift. The sheet pulls at its tip then pops off, letting it free, and I run my fingertips along his length, studying his reaction.
If a gaze could touch, Jace’s would be licking me by now and penetrating my every orifice.
I keep stroking him, but unlike the time when I was painting him, I openly study him.
He’s silent. His chest rises and falls slowly, shaking just a little as if he has a hard time breathing evenly.
I break the eye contact, lean over, and press a little kiss to his hardness.
A gasp escapes him.
I look up and meet his widening eyes, then press another soft kiss to his length, then another, going lower, following my fingers that sneak between his legs and cup him.
I wrote a lot about sex—grunts and gasps. But the sexiest sound is Jace moaning.
A barely audible whimper escapes him at first. Then a louder moan comes when I gently squeeze him. It’s lower, heavier, followed by a gasp, then what sounds like a curse. He lifts his hips just a little off the mattress like he’s following my mouth. Another kiss, and I let my tongue out to taste him.
“Lu,” he exhales.
My lips move up his length.
“Lu baby, you’ll make me—”
“Yes, I will. Don’t stop me,” I murmur and take him in, intending to make my beautiful guy fall apart.
It only takes a moment. Like he’s been edged all night. Edging—another thing I want to do to him.
I make a mental note right before he murmurs, “Lu, I’m—”
“I know,” I whisper against him, pull back, and stroke him as he explodes in my hand. “Good morning,” I say, biting back my smile.
He rubs his face with both hands, and when he finally looks at me, he’s grinning.
He cleans my hand, then pulls the sheet over our heads, covering us head to toe.
“Hi,” he whispers before kissing me.
It’s dim. The sunshine seeping through the sheet casts a soft glow on his face, a naughty strand of hair falling onto his forehead.
“Turn face down, baby,” he orders.
I do.
His hands run along my body, from my shoulders to my hips, like he’s about to give me a massage. Then he leans over, and his lips are on me—soft kisses on my shoulders, trailing down my back, then my waist as his body shifts lower.
