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Pleading back at me through hooded eyes, his scratchy, low voice is just above a whisper. “Will you just let me feel you right now. I just want to feel you.”

I feel his plea in my bones. I need it too.

“Please.” His slurred speech is replaced with such desperation.

Not even putting up a fight, I nod, shifting the car into drive and heading to his designated parking spot. When we get out, his hand latches with mine.

The elevator opens just as we push the button, the soft buzz of the machine matching the anticipation growing within me.

When we finally stop at the forty-first floor, Jett pulls me out of the elevator, slamming my back to the private hallway that leads to his penthouse.

“I’m so sorry that happened,” he whimpers just inches away from my mouth, his hot breath on mine.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I tell him honestly, loving the way our bodies mold so perfectly together.

Before he continues, I take a studying glance at how troubled his features look. How in pain he is that something so triggering for both of us could have been so connected.

“These lips.”

Pressing his thumb to my pouting skin, he dusts the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip, before pulling my chin to meet his.

When he kisses me, every shattered piece inside me heals. His touch is the best memory, the most protective, most adoring, most special of sensations. All the agony I’ve tried to hide away wrapped into one redeeming touch of the right man.

“Jett…” I whisper, not hiding an ounce of emotion.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I lov—” I croak, emotion lodging at the base of my throat, preventing me from saying the words we both feel so deeply.

“Not yet,” he rushes out, gripping one hand to my waist, the other to the base of my neck, the way I always melt into.

“Please,” I beg.

It’s something we both feel. Three words we so desperately want to express but can’t.

We trail slowly to the door, and Jett fiddles in his pockets, retrieving his key. The inside of the penthouse that felt like home now feels cold and empty, like us.

“Let me do this before we go there,” Jett says, as if I’d dare to say no.

“Okay,” I whisper, following behind as he threads us through the penthouse.

The night has finally taken over. The darkness shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows is only another reminder that this all ends when the sun rises.

At the foot of the bed, I watch as he takes the seat ahead of me, mimicking how he did the first night we were together.

“Let me see you.” His voice is thick, lust and longing muffled between his lips.

I push my jeans down over my hips, letting them pool around my ankles before kicking them to the side.

“Bra and panties stay on?” I question, knowing that’s exactly how he loves to see me, but needing to hear him say it.

“You know exactly how I like it, Sofia baby.”

My nickname rolls off his tongue like butter, and I shiver. When I’ve rid myself of my clothing, I scoot back on the bed, angling myself directly in the middle—in perfect view of my boyfriend.

I indulge in the dark glare he’s pinning on me as I open my legs wide. His is the only darkness I’ve ever loved.

“Do you think after tonight we’re strong enough to do this?” he asks roughly.