Chapter Twenty Four #2
When we step outside, the cold hits us like a slap.
The valet line is still moving. People are still arriving, laughing, stepping out of cars in glitter and confidence, unaware of what just detonated inside.
It’s surreal.
Sarah’s breath catches beside me, and for the first time she trembles.
Just once.
I put my hand at her lower back, firm, guiding. And she leans into it like she needs something solid too.
We reach my car and I open her door first. She slides in, posture still composed, but her hands shake when she reaches for the seatbelt.
I get in the driver’s seat, shut the door, and for a second the world goes quiet.
Just the hum of the engine and our breathing.
Sarah stares straight ahead.
I grip the wheel.
My fingers are tight.
Then Sarah speaks, voice low. “Are you angry?”
I swallow. ‘Angry doesn’t even touch it.’
But I don’t say that. I turn my head just enough to look at her. “I don’t know what I am,” I admit.
Sarah’s throat works. She nods once, like she understands perfectly.
“I don’t want to be here anymore,” she says.
“You don’t have to be,” I tell her.
She finally looks at me. Her eyes are glossy now, the control slipping. “Where are we going?” she asks.
The answer comes instantly.
“Your house,” I say. Not my place.
Sarah’s expression shifts like the word hits her somewhere deep.
She nods, small. “Okay.”
The drive is quiet but not awkward, just heavy.
It’s the kind of quiet that doesn’t need filling because anything we say will be wrong or too sharp.
Sarah’s hand rests in her lap, fingers twisting her ring once, then stopping. She stares out the window like she’s trying to get her body to accept reality.
I keep my eyes on the road, but my mind keeps snapping back to Sierra’s face. To her silence. And the way she couldn’t answer me.
To the way it felt like the ground shifted under my feet.
When we pull into Sarah’s driveway, the house is dark except for a small lamp in the front window.
She doesn’t move right away.
Neither do I.
Then she exhales, shaky. “I don’t want to be alone tonight,” she says.
The honesty in that hits me harder than anything else she could’ve said.
“You won’t be,” I answer.
We get out of the car. Inside, the warmth wraps around us, but neither of us relaxes.
Sarah kicks off her heels by the door like she’s shedding armor, then stands there, still in her dress, breathing like she ran a mile.
I close the door behind us and lock it. The click sounds loud.
Sarah’s eyes flick to me.
And for the first time tonight, I see it fully.
There’s no control or composure left.
Only pain.
I cross the space between us in two steps, slow at the end so I don’t startle her. My hands come up, gentle, framing her face.
Her skin is warm under my palms.
She leans into me immediately, like she’s been holding herself upright by sheer will and I’m the first solid thing she’s touched.
Sarah’s breath hitches. “I hate this,” she whispers.
“I know,” I say.
She closes her eyes, lashes wet.
“I didn’t even…” Her voice cracks. She swallows hard. “I didn’t even see it coming.”
“I know,” I repeat, because I don’t have better words.
Sarah opens her eyes again, searching my face.
“What about you?” she asks. “Are you—”
I shake my head once. ‘Don’t ask me to name it.’ “I don’t want to think about that right now. I can’t.”
But I can give her something else. I lean in and kiss her.
Slow and grounding.
Sarah makes a quiet sound against my mouth, like relief and grief tangled together. Her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling into my suit jacket like she’s holding on.
I deepen the kiss, still slow and controlled, but there’s heat underneath it now. Something that’s been building, sharp and desperate, needing a place to go.
Sarah pulls back just enough to breathe, forehead resting against mine.
“Jace,” she whispers.
My throat tightens and I kiss her again.
And this time it shifts.
The kiss turns heavier, needier. Sarah’s mouth opens under mine, and my hands slide down her neck to her shoulders, then her waist, pulling her closer.
She presses into me like she needs to feel something real.
So do I.
I guide her backward toward the hallway, toward her bedroom, but I don’t rush. I keep touching her like I’m reminding her she’s here. She’s safe. She’s mine. I’m hers.
We reach the bedroom and she looks at me, eyes dark, cheeks flushed. “Take what you need,” she says, voice low.
My breath catches. ‘God.’
“I need you,” I tell her.
Sarah’s gaze drops to my mouth. “Good.”
Something inside me snaps into clarity. This isn’t just a distraction.
This is comfort.
This is us choosing each other in the middle of the wreckage.
I kiss her again, harder now. Sarah’s hands go to my tie, yanking it loose with quick, angry movements like she needs me out of this suit, out of this night, out of everything that isn’t her.
I let her.
My hands move to the zipper of her dress, and I pause, just for a second, looking at her.
Sarah’s eyes hold mine.
There’s no hesitation or doubt.
So I pull the zipper down slowly, letting the fabric fall away from her shoulders. The dress slides down her body, pooling at her feet.
She steps out of it, standing in front of me in lingerie that makes my chest go tight and my cock harden.
Not because it’s sexy, though it is.
Because she’s standing here with her heart cracked open and still offering me herself.
‘Chosen.’
My hands slide over her hips, firm. I kiss along her jaw, her throat, feeling her pulse jump under my mouth.
She arches into me, breath shaky. “Please,” she whispers.
I back her toward the bed, and she sits, then lies back, watching me like she needs to see my face.
I strip off my jacket, my shirt, and my pants. My movements aren’t frantic, but they’re not slow either. They’re controlled, deliberate.
When I reach her, my hands slide up her thighs and hook under the thin fabric of her panties, tugging them off in one smooth motion before I toss them aside. She lifts just long enough to undo her bra, letting it fall away as I climb onto the bed.
She reaches for me immediately, pulling me down into another kiss. Her legs hook around my hips, anchoring me.
I groan into her mouth, the sound low and rough.
Sarah breaks the kiss, dragging in air. “I need you,” she says.
The words hit me in the gut. ‘I need you too.’
I slide my hand between us, fingers moving over her, finding heat, finding slickness, and she shudders.
“Jace,” she breathes, and it’s half warning, half plea.
I keep my eyes on her face as I touch her, slow circles that make her hips lift, chasing more.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders.
“Look at me,” I murmur.
Her eyes lock on mine instantly. I love that about her. Even like this, even undone, she holds my gaze like she’s daring me to leave.
I won’t. Not ever again.
I lower my mouth to her breast, kissing, then sucking gently, causing her to gasp, her head tipping back. She tangles her fingers in my hair, holding me there.
I move lower, kissing down her stomach, feeling her breath change, sharper now.
Sarah’s voice goes tight. “Don’t tease me.”
A rough laugh slips out of me.
“I’m not teasing,” I tell her, and then I push her thighs apart and lower my mouth where she needs me. “I’m enjoying.”
The second my tongue touches her, she cries out, the sound broken. One hand clamps down on the pillow beside her like she’s trying to hold onto something, while the other fists in my hair on instinct, sharp and unguarded.
I lap at her slowly, then harder, building rhythm, building pressure. Her legs tremble around my neck and I hold them in place.
“Jace,” she gasps. “Oh my god.”
I keep going, tongue relentless, until her hips buck and she makes a sound that’s pure release, her body tightening, then shaking.
She’s still breathing hard when I crawl back up her body, kissing her mouth, tasting her, swallowing her soft whimper when I press my hips against her.
“I’m here,” I whisper against her lips. “I’ve got you.”
Sarah’s eyes shine. “Show me,” she whispers back.
So I do.
I grab a condom from her nightstand without looking, like I’ve done it a hundred times in this room. Like this is ours. I roll it on, then settle between her thighs, lining myself up.
I pause again, just for a second, because even in the heat, even in the wreckage, I need her.
Sarah’s hand slides to my jaw. “Don’t stop,” she says, voice shaking. “Please.”
I push into her slowly, watching her face as she takes me. She exhales, a low sound, her eyes fluttering closed for a beat, then opening again.
“Eyes on me,” I say again, rougher this time.
She does, so I thrust deeper, steady. Sarah’s breath catches, her nails digging into my back and sounds coming from her get louder.
“Good,” I murmur. “That’s it.”
Her lips part, a soft moan spilling out.
I move faster, building pace, feeling the way she tightens around me, the way her body meets mine like she’s searching for something to cling to.
And I give it to her.
I give her the truth that my mouth can’t form tonight.
Sarah wraps her legs around my hips, pulling me deeper, her forehead creasing with pleasure and something else. Something raw.
“Jace,” she whispers. “I can’t…”
“Yes, you can,” I say, voice low. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
Her body tightens, her mouth opening on a sound that turns into a gasp. She shakes beneath me, her hands clutching my shoulders like she’s keeping herself together even as she breaks.
The sight of her like that wrecks me.
My thrusts turn rougher, needier, chasing my own edge.
She locks eyes with me, and they’re glassy and wild.
“You,” she breathes. “Only you.”
That undoes me. I groan, burying my face in her neck as I come, my body shaking, my grip tightening on her hips like I need to hold her in place while everything inside me cracks. After my body goes slack, I stay inside her for a moment, breathing hard, forehead against her shoulder.
Her fingers slide through my hair, slow, soothing.
We don’t speak but we don’t have to.
Eventually I pull out, then get up and dispose of the condom. Then come back to bed and gather her into my arms. She curls into me immediately, pressing her face against my chest like she’s trying to hear my heartbeat.
I kiss the top of her head.
Her voice is tiny when she speaks. “Did we just…”
I tighten my arms around her.
“We did,” I say.
Sarah’s breath shudders.
“Okay,” she whispers, like she’s telling herself she’s allowed to be okay.
I stare at the ceiling, the events of tonight settling into my bones.
The gala. Sierra. The way her mouth opened and nothing came out.
The way my question hung in the air like a blade.
And the truth that settles in, quiet and brutal.
Nothing goes back.
Not for any of us.
Sarah shifts closer, her hand flattening over my chest, fingers splayed like she’s claiming something steady.
I cover her hand with mine. ‘I choose this.’
I don’t say it out loud.
I don’t need to.
Because I’m here.
Because when the world cracked open, I came to her house and climbed into her bed and held her like it was the only real thing left.
Sarah’s eyes close.
Her breathing slows.
And even though my chest still aches, even though the night is still sharp around the edges, I hold her tighter.
Not because I’m afraid.
Because I’m choosing what I want, not choosing out of obligation or what was right.