“Good?” He couldn’t resist pulling her closer, resting his hand on her side, turning into her, burying his nose at her temple.
She nodded, her fingers pressing against his bare skin. “It’s growing on me.”
“Oh?” Her scent flooded his nostrils.
“Your name,” she whispered, draping her arm across his waist.
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
Chapter 13
Krystal woke to the stop and start of the bus. She peered at the clock. Almost seven. If they were on track, they’d be turning onto the long drive of her family home within an hour.
She stared down at Jace, who was snoring softly.
An hour before the rest of the world interrupted.
She rested her chin on his chest, studying him in the dim light slipping through the blinds of her window. Where had he come from? How had he wound up here? And how was she ever going to get over him? The last question hurt. Whether she liked it or not, she cared about Jace. She’d practically attacked him onstage because she’d missed him so much. Not his body, him.
His voice. His honesty. The way he looked at her—the way he saw her.
What am I doing?
He was gorgeous. Every inch of him. He’d thrown his arm up over his head, showcasing muscles and ink. His face, turned toward her, had dark stubble along his jaw. A thick, chiseled, manly jaw. His mouth? That was one of her favorite features. Not only could his smile turn her to mush, but the man could kiss.
What am I doing?
She should get up, take a shower, get dressed, and do her best to put some distance between them. She wasn’t ready to admit the damage was done between them; she couldn’t. Jace Black wasn’t meant to wind up with someone like her. She tore her gaze from his face, doing her best to get a handle on the very real, very overwhelming sense of joy and dread, hope and loss, want and self-loathing.
“What am I doing?” She lay back on the bed, her heart aching.
The bed shifted and Jace was leaning over her. “Kissing me good morning.”
She nodded, cradling his face—his beautiful face—in her hands.
A crease formed between his brows. Cautious. Maybe even a little bit concerned.
She pulled him down, her lips catching his in a lingering caress. One hand pressed to her cheek, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. He was gentle with her, like she was something to treasure. His smile, against her lips, was impossible to resist. His mouth, the sweep of his tongue, his soft moan against her throat.
Terrifying or not, she was falling for him.
His kiss deepened, slow and leisurely.
She shuddered, her hands sliding down his back.
“You okay?” he whispered against her cheek.
She nodded. “I…” She swallowed, needing him. If she didn’t get out of her head, her heart would lead her down a path she’d never survive. He would leave her. She couldn’t love him. She couldn’t love. Even if he made her wish she could.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, the tip of her nose, her chin.
“Please,” she whispered, aching for him. All of him. So much.
He smoothed her hair from her face and stared down at her, the fire in his eyes tempered with something infinitely more powerful. And binding.
It was different this time. His invasion was slow and sweet, filling her completely. Her fingers dug into his hips, reveling in the weight of his body against hers. Every thrust was deliberate, stroking something deep inside, demanding her response. Her body clenched and he paused, his breath powering out of him. He kissed her, his gaze boring into hers as he started to move again.
Would he still look at her like this if he knew what she’d done?