Fever (Breathless #2)(63)

He went limp, gathering her even closer until she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t complain. Didn’t say a single word as she lay sprawled across his body. He kissed her neck, her ear, and then nuzzled into her hair. It took her a moment to realize he was whispering endearments. Telling her how beautiful she was and how overcome he was that she was his, that she accepted what he wanted from her.

She curled her arms around his neck, holding on just as tightly as he held her.

“I want to stay,” she whispered.

He went rigid against her and then he sagged as if relieved. He kissed her again, moving one of his hands to push the hair from her face. Then he pulled her back so she could meet his gaze. His eyes were intense. Nearly black as he stared at her.

“You’re staying, Bethany. You’re mine now. I still don’t know if you fully know what you’ve agreed to but I’m not giving you the opportunity to back out now. You belong to me. I’m not giving you back.”

She put her hand to his cheek as he’d done to her so many times. Offering comfort and reassurance. He leaned forward and brushed his mouth across hers. Once, twice, and a third time, as if he couldn’t pull himself away.

“Why did you cry, baby?”

Just thinking back on all he’d said made her want to cry all over again. At his look of alarm, she realized she had teared up.

“Oh, Jace,” she whispered. “You can’t imagine how much it meant to me that you’d actually be willing to change who you are, what makes you who you are, because you think it’s what I want. And that you showed me the heart of you. But you have to understand, I want you. All of you. I don’t want a watered-down version of Jace. I want you. Controlling, dominant, arrogant, caring, loving, protective . . .” She trailed off, her voice husky with emotion and clouded with tears. “Do you understand?” she whispered.

He crushed her to him, still firmly embedded in her body. She could feel every heartbeat. He trembled against her as his hands tangled in her hair. Then he pulled away just enough to lean his forehead into hers, their mouths precariously close and their gazes hooded, connected.

“Don’t know what I’d do if I hadn’t found you,” he said in a stark voice. “Kills me to even think about it. Don’t know what I’d do without you. That makes me crazy too.”

“Do you get it, Jace? Really get it? I want you. I want your dominance. I need it.”

He stroked his hand down her hair, smoothing the strands, the motion comforting.

“You got me, baby. All of me. I hope to hell you’re prepared for it. But you’re getting it. All of me. One hundred percent. But you have to promise me something.”

“What?” she whispered.

He kissed her first, a light smooching, warm and breathless. When he pulled his head back, his eyes were alight with satisfaction and contentment.

“Promise me that if it’s ever too much, if you’re ever overwhelmed, if I ever push too hard or too fast, that you’ll tell me. You have to tell me. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew what I was doing was scaring you or, God, hurting you. I never want to make you feel bad about what we do.”

She kissed him this time, savoring the feel of him, of being in his arms. This was real. He was real. She was shaken to her very core by the magnitude of what was happening here. He wanted her. Her.

“I promise,” she whispered against his lips.

Chapter twenty-three

Bethany waited, breathless with anticipation. Nervousness. Her stomach was full of butterflies. Jace would be home any minute. He’d texted her to let her know he was leaving the office. Nothing else. No instructions. Nothing about their plans for the evening. And in light of their heart-to-heart discussion the night before, she had a very good idea of how she wanted to be waiting for him when he arrived.

A signal of her acceptance. Her obedience. Her willingness and desire to submit to him. To forge ahead in the kind of relationship they both wanted. Not just what Jace wanted. It meant the world to her—it undid her that he’d been willing to suppress his own wants and needs if she displayed any hesitation over the parameters of the relationship he’d outlined.

And maybe that was a huge reason why she was so willing to accept without reservations the things he asked of her. Because he hadn’t demanded. He hadn’t given her an ultimatum. He’d told her how he wanted things but just as quickly let her know that if she wasn’t able or willing to commit to that lifestyle that he’d be the one to compromise and take whatever it was she felt comfortable offering.

Everything. She would give him everything. She wanted to make him happy because it’s what would make her happy.

She slipped out of her clothing and arranged it in a neat pile in one of the drawers he’d allocated for her use. He’d made noises about buying furniture for her that would be solely hers. But for now, using his space was fine. They still maintained separate residences even though more and more of her belongings had crept into his apartment.

She checked the time and knew he could be coming up the elevator even now. She quickened her pace to the living room and carefully knelt on the plush carpet in a position that afforded her a view of the elevator doors. She’d see him as soon as he stepped out, but more importantly, the very first thing he’d see when he entered the apartment would be her. Waiting. Submissive. Giving him what he most wanted from her.