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"And I used to hate you…" he continues. I brace for the rest. "For giving me the best I ever had before I knew to fucking appreciate it."

Air flies from my lungs in the form of a laugh as I look at him again. I take in his expression—serious. Bold. And his words fully land in my chest.

There's no pride that comes with it—no confidence or bragging rights.

Just peace.

Because for years I thought I was crazy. Avoiding flings and random hookups. Suffering through shallow relationships or avoiding them altogether once they reach that point because I thought, Maybe it's just me who can't get into it with Thad—or Chad or Brad or Trey.

But Jace just proved it's not.

And maybe that's because we've built something up in our heads that wasn't really there—because of drama or hurt or a lack of closure. Or because you always seem to long for the one thing you can't have.

It doesn't matter the reason, really. What matters is that all this time I thought I was nuts for holding onto something that happened in high school. For living stuck in the past or not experiencing my early twenties the way some people might expect.

And I've hated myself for the same reason he has.

"So you're the one who hated me," I quip, rather than explaining all that.

His lips curl. "Still do."

My mouth drops open as I go to speak, but he swallows my words, kissing me again.

Jace dips his thumbs underneath the shoulders of my flannel, pushing the heavy fabric down my arms until it falls to the floor.

I reach for his t-shirt, bunching it in my fists before working it up and over his chest. I watch as he pulls it the rest of the way off and tosses it toward a window I'm just now noticing is there.

Then, I take in the view.

Not the one that overlooks the city, framed in dark curtains and shades pushed up. The one directly in front of me. All smooth peaks and deep valleys.

Tanned. Toned. Taunting me.

The muscles on Jace's stomach tighten, then release, over and over with the beat of his breath. And I trace them with the tips of my fingers. "You are…"

They contract again like he's bracing for the rest.

My eyes flick to his.

"Stunning," I finish.

Jace grins, his muscles relaxing as he shrugs casually. "Yeah, well…"

I laugh, dropping my head, until his hand slowly makes its way down my neck, past my shoulder, and onto my chest.

"You're stunning," he breathes.

Jace slides his fingers lower, and when they get caught on the hem of my tank top, he slips them beneath the cotton.

My breath hitches as his eyes pierce mine.

"I don't hate you," he says, pushing under the lace of my bra, holding me as he brushes his thumb past my nipple.

"No?" I manage, tipping my chin.

"Not…" He pinches the peak between two fingers.

I whimper.