Page 116 of The Run Back Home

"Even…"

He squeezes harder, and I pant, reaching for him.

"A little."

He yanks my bra down, freeing me, then dips in to soothe the ache with his tongue.

My hand flies to his head, my nails dragging across the back of his neck.

Jace groans with his mouth still wrapped around me, and I feel the vibration right between my thighs.

His hands slide down my sides as I adjust my shirt, and he drags kisses along my stomach.

When he reaches the button on my jeans, he hesitates.

I don't.

I pop the metal through the slit, then tug my zipper down, and that's all the permission Jace needs to yank the denim down my hips until it joins the rest of our clothes on the floor.

Kissing the thin black strap at my hip, he pushes me carefully back against the mattress.

I fall onto the bed and instantly reach for his shoulders. "Come here," I say, pulling him toward me.

Jace shrugs me off gently, shaking his head before hooking his fingers beneath my thighs and spreading them wider. "Not yet," he says on his knees.

Anticipation washes over me as he settles between them, resting his palms on the tops of my legs.

They say your body remembers things that even your mind might forget. You can shove something away, but you'll still feel it in the speed of your heart and the ache of your muscles when you encounter it again.

Subconscious. Visceral.

Your body's way of keeping score.

And although having Jace Holloway on his knees for me is something I was never able to tuck away completely, it's as if my body can already recall exactly what it feels like.

"I have news for you, Lenny girl," Jace says, running his fingers along that tiny black strip. He swallows as he inches it down. "This was always more for me than for you."

My pussy clenches with him so close—those words, that face. His warm breath coasting past my most sensitive spot. And without second-guessing it, I lift myself off the mattress to let him slide it down completely.

When it reaches my ankles, I slip one foot out to finish the job, and a guttural sound attempts to crawl from Jace's chest. He smothers it as his eyes trail up my middle, and his fingers find my legs again.

"So ready," he mutters more to himself, and rather than argue—or admit that it's because I've waited for years for this, for him—I buck my hips slightly closer.

With that, he falls forward, cautiously at first—savoring this. His tongue trails up my middle, then swirls slow, taunting circles around my clit. It's not much pressure at first, but it feels like every nerve ending has been on edge for him since the last time he was there.

My hand flies to his hair, crawling toward the familiar spot it always seems to find. And when I curl my fingers around his chain—holding onto it like I need to, like I always used to—it's like flipping a switch.

He growls, diving in deeper—licking and flicking relentlessly until my free hand is forced to grip the sheets.

"Jace," I breathe.

He freezes except for the tips of his fingers that dig further into my thighs. "Lenny," he groans. "Please don't say my name. Not now."

I can't control the whimper that slips from my throat as I tip my chin up and press my head deeper into the pillow.

I try to swallow ‌the truth, but it comes out between heavy breaths. "No one's… made me…"

"Made you what?" he snaps.