Page 164
Oh, God.
Heat rushes into my cheeks as the reality show keeps playing in the background. Jace's arm go slack but I can feel him staring at me.
"I... I didn't—I mean..."
Before I can finish, Jace cups my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "You love me, Sugar?"
His hazel-green eyes are wide, searching mine. The playfulness from moments ago has vanished, replaced by something raw and unguarded.
"Jace, I—" My voice falters as I realize there's no taking it back. No clever deflection. No way to repackage this into something safe.
His thumb traces my jawline, gentle but insistent, and I don't want to take the words back. Somewhere along the way, Jace, Nate, and Elias stopped being a risk and became the safest place I've ever known.
"Yeah," I whisper, "I think I do. You make loving you feel easy. I never have to wonder if I'm being too loud, too demanding, or too much of anything with you. You love every part of me, even the parts I spent years trying to make smaller."
“Sugar, I’ve been gone since the night you danced on that bar, demanded body shots, and forgot to hide from me.” His smile softens. “You were loud and messy and completely yourself. I didn’t stand a chance. I love you, Sloane Harper.”
Jace kisses me, shifting until his body covers mine. I thread my fingers through his thick black curls, pulling him closer as our kiss deepens.
"Fuck, Sugar," he murmurs against my mouth. "We were supposed to be watching TV."
“But Papi," I whisper, grinding against him, and I feel the shape of him through his slacks, hard and hot between my thighs. "I’m not wearing anything under this. It would be so easy…"
His pupils dilate as I guide his hand beneath the shirt. The moment his fingers slide through my wet folds, he groans, and I arch into his touch, pressing myself harder against his palm.
"Jesus Christ," he rasps, the sound rough with awe as his fingers press deeper.
"Told you," I manage, my voice a husky invitation. "Easy access."
Jace's fingers trace slow circles around my clit, not quite touching, a maddening tease that makes me squirm. His other hand pushes my shirt up and off until it pools on the floor. His mouth drops to my collarbone with a low sound that vibrates through my teeth.
"Fuck the TV," he mutters against my skin. I tip my head back, his teeth grazing the sensitive curve of my throat before he slowly starts making his way down.
We’re so wrapped up in one another that neither of us hears the chime of the elevator or the footsteps approaching as two figures appear in the living room.
"Well," Nate says, "this is quite the treat to come home to."
Jace's fingers go still against me, and for one suspended second, the only sound in the room is the orchestral score from The Crown Jewel and someone on screen saying I just feel like we have a real connection with absolutely no self-awareness whatsoever.
My brain short-circuits entirely.
Nate is standing there, looking utterly gorgeous in his three-piece suit, one eyebrow lifted, and Elias is behind him, his Henley straining at the shoulders, his dark eyes locked on me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.
"Hi," I say, trying to beat back the horny desperation so I can have an actual conversation.
Nate doesn't answer. He crosses the room with that measured stride of his, glasses catching the light from the screen. For a second, I think he's going to sit down and watch. Instead, he cups my face and kisses me.
It's soft. Sweet.
His lips linger for one more heartbeat before he pulls back and turns to Jace and kisses him too. Jace's breath catches, fingers tightening on my hip as Nate cups the back of his neck.
When Nate pulls away, Jace's eyes are glassy and his lips parted.
Nate steps back just enough for Elias to take his place. I smell oak and cologne before his hand threads through my hair and tilts my face toward his.
His kiss is nothing like Nate's.
Where Nate was soft, Elias is consuming, beard scraping my chin as his mouth takes mine hard enough to leave me breathless. He pulls back and gives Jace the same treatment.
