Page 92 of Obey

I smile despite myself. “Morning.”

He doesn’t move.

Neither do I.

“Your stomach’s making demands,” he murmurs against my skin, his breath sending shivers across my belly.

“Can you blame it? Someone worked me hard last night,” I reply, voice still thick with sleep.

Jace lifts his head, those hazel-green eyes serious. “You good with everything that happened? Nate and Elias can be… a lot, and I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

The question catches me off guard. I expected teasing, maybe more of that playful banter we've built between us. But he's studying me so earnestly that I know he won't accept an answer just to make him feel better.

“Yeah. I’m okay. More than okay, honestly.” I trace the line of his jaw. “It was intense, but in a good way.”

Jace studies my face for a moment, looking for something. Whatever he finds seems to satisfy him, and he drops his head back against my stomach.

The kitchen sounds drift in around us. Dishes. Low voices. I catch myself listening for which one belongs to Nate and which to Elias before I even realize I’m doing it.

“How did you all meet?”

Jace’s grin spreads slow against my skin, like he’s been waiting for that question.

“Oh, Sugar.” He shifts up between my thighs, propping on his elbows, tongue tracing a lazy path up my lower abdomen. “That story starts with Harvard and the single worst group project ever designed.”

His tongue finds my navel ring and I lose my train of thought. “A group project.”

“Leadership and Organizational Behavior.” He says it like a curse. “LEAD. Some sadist’s idea of forging character in ambitious twenty-two-year-olds, and it was the only class I had with Nathaniel Blackwell.”

I drag a finger along the tattoo on his forearm. “And you immediately hated him.”

“Tailored coat. Ice-cold gray eyes. Looked at the whole room like we were already wasting his time. Sugar, I was obsessed with him. Meanwhile, I was a disaster. Flirting with everyone, treating the class like a mixer. He thought I was an absolute menace.”

“Obviously.”

“Our Professor paired us together.” He rolls us over until I’m sprawled on top of him. “Which meant Nate showed up with color-coded spreadsheets and I decided making his life harder was much more entertaining than getting an A.”

I laugh. “That sounds about right, so what made him crack?”

“I was drowning in the finance section of the assignment, and Nate apparently took that personally. Said he refused to fail because I lacked academic rigor.” Jace rolls his eyes, but I can see the glimmer of warmth at the memory. “It was two in the morning; we were in his dorm. He’s leaning over my shoulder looking at the laptop, sleeves pushed up, annoyed as hell, and all I could think about was how good he smelled.”

“Jace.”

“I’m serious. That man smelled like coffee and Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille. I was useless.”

My fingers drift higher over his collarbone. “So you kissed him.”

“I kissed the hell out of him.” One dimple appears. “Figured he’d push me off.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No, he didn’t.” A soft exhale. “He froze for three seconds, then he had me pinned to the desk. He kissed mean back then—like he was angry at himself for wanting me.”

“Afterward?” I ask, chin propped on his chest.

“Nate pretended it was a mistake.” Jace’s expression shifts. “He had this best friend. Rich legacy asshole who worshiped Nate’s father, thought image was everything.”

Emotion catches behind my ribs. “He found out?”