Chapter 4: Afterschocks

The second Jace closed my bedroom door behind him, I forgot every rule I made.

No touching when people are home.

No sneaking into each other’s rooms.

No making the same mistake twice.

But when he looked at me like that—eyes low, voice rough—those rules didn’t stand a chance.

“You didn’t text me,” he said, stepping closer. “Thought you were ignoring me.”

“I was trying,” I admitted.

“Didn’t work, did it?”

He stood at the foot of my bed, arms crossed, shirtless in low-hanging grey sweats. The tension between us was crackling. He could’ve set the room on fire with a look.

“No,” I breathed. “Didn’t work.”

That was all he needed.

Jace climbed onto the bed, slow and sure. His hands were on my thighs before I could say another word, pushing them apart as he moved between them.

“You’ve been thinking about me,” he murmured, fingers dragging up my bare legs. “I know you have.”

I bit my lip and nodded.

He tugged my shorts down with one hand, eyes never leaving mine. I wasn’t wearing panties.

His groan was pure filth.

“You were waiting for me.”

“Maybe.”

“You missed my mouth, didn’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

He didn’t need me to.

He kissed the inside of my thigh, then higher, until I gasped and grabbed the sheets.

His tongue slid over me, slow at first, then fast, circling exactly where I needed him. My body arched off the bed, already trembling.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

I was panting, moaning, grinding into his mouth before I could stop myself. His hands pinned my thighs down, holding me still, working me open until I shattered, crying out his name as I came.

Jace groaned, licking me through it, then crawled up and kissed me hard—messy and deep, like he owned me.

He pulled his sweats down and I wrapped my legs around him, desperate for more.

“I need you,” I whispered.

“You have me,” he said, lining himself up.

And then he was inside me.

Hard. Deep. Perfect.

We moved together like we were made for this—like the danger made it better. Every thrust was punishment and pleasure wrapped in one, and I took all of it. Over and over.

He fucked me like he wanted to erase every guy I’d ever looked at, every thought I’d ever had about anyone but him.

“Mine,” he growled in my ear. “You’re mine.”

“Yes,” I gasped. “I’m yours.”

My body gave out first, pleasure ripping through me again, and he followed seconds later with a groan against my neck, collapsing on top of me, chest rising fast.

We laid there tangled and breathless, the heat between us slowly settling.

Then it hit me—again.

The guilt.

The risk.

The fact that someone could’ve walked in. That our parents were home.

“What are we doing?” I whispered.

Jace rolled onto his back, pulling me with him. “Whatever the hell we want.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He looked at me, his expression softer now.

“You think I don’t care?” he said. “You think this is just sex to me?”

“I don’t know what this is,” I admitted.

“Then let me show you.”

He kissed me again—gentle this time, like a promise.

But before I could fall further, a phone buzzed.

His.

We both froze.

He reached for it.

The name on the screen: Avery.

My stomach dropped.

“You still talk to her?” I asked.

“She texts. I ignore.”

“Really?” I raised an eyebrow.

“I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“But she still thinks she has a shot.”

He sighed, tossing the phone aside. “She doesn’t.”