Chapter 25 TESSA
TESSA
My bedroom feels different now—quieter, softer, as if the air itself has exhaled.
Jace lies beside me, one arm heavy around my waist, his thumb tracing lazy circles against my hip, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath my cheek.
I match my breathing to his, letting the rhythm ground me.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not running.
Not from my past, or my feelings. Just here. Wrapped up in him.
The world outside doesn’t matter—not the threats, the secrets, or the danger that awaits beyond these walls. Right now, it’s just the two of us and the soft hum of the night.
After months of hiding in the shadows, he knows the truth, and instead of pushing me away, he’s embraced me and assured me that everything is going to be okay. And I believe him, which is why I’m here, lying calmly by his side instead of running like every instinct in me is telling me to.
I tilt my head slightly, feeling the brush of his stubble against my temple. His hand tightens, just a little, like he doesn’t want to let me go. “Sleep, it’s been a long day,” he murmurs against my hair.
I close my eyes and let the sound of his heartbeat pull me under. Tomorrow can wait. For tonight, I just want to stay right here, in this fragile peace, in his arms, where everything feels safe again.
Sometime later, I wake to the sound of Jace groaning, and for a second, I think he’s dreaming, caught in some nightmare. But then I hear the short, sharp breath he pulls through his teeth, and every trace of sleep drains out of me.
“Jace?” My voice is soft, cautious, but he doesn’t answer right away.
Moonlight spills across the bed, silvering his skin. He’s lying on his back now, jaw tight, one hand gripping the edge of the sheets. His whole body looks tense, locked in battle with something I can’t see.
I push myself up on my elbow. “Hey,” I whisper again, brushing my fingers against his arm. His skin is damp, slick with sweat. “What’s wrong?”
He exhales sharply, turning his head toward me. “I’m fine,” he mutters, voice thick and strained. “Just my old injuries acting up. Go back to sleep.”
The tremor in his words betrays him. He’s hurting. Badly.
“Like hell I’m going back to sleep,” I murmur, sliding closer. I can feel the heat coming off him; he’s in pain. “Where does it hurt?”
He hesitates, his pride warring with honesty, then finally says, “My back and legs. It comes and goes.”
My chest tightens. I’ve seen him angry, protective, even tender, but not like this. Not fragile.
“Let me help,” I whisper.
“Tessa—“
“Please.”
The word hangs between us, quiet but certain. After a long moment, he exhales, something in him giving way. He nods once, reluctantly.
I reach for him, my hands tentative as I ease the blanket down, revealing the long, powerful lines of his body. He’s all strength, scars, and tattoos—a man who’s fought too hard for too long.
“Roll over,” I murmur.
He gives a soft, incredulous laugh despite himself. “You don’t take orders well, do you?”
“Only when I’m sure I’m right.”
He shakes his head, but the corner of his mouth lifts before he does as I ask, turning onto his stomach. The light catches on the scars that cut across his back—pale, rough, like stories carved into skin.
My breath catches. I trace one with my fingertip, feather-light. “God, Jace…”
He tenses again, his muscles jumping under my touch. “They’re old,” he says roughly. “Don’t look at them like that.”
That earns a faint huff, a ghost of a laugh that vanishes as quickly as it comes. “It hurts less when I move. Or when someone works it out.”
“Then let me.”
He lifts his head slightly, turning to glance at me over his shoulder. “You offering a massage, Ms. Hacker?”
His tone is teasing, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty there, a crack in the armor.
“Yes,” I whisper, meeting his eyes. “Unless you’d rather pretend you’re fine until morning.”
He studies me for a long beat, then sighs and lays his head back down. “You’re impossible.”
“Good thing you like impossible.”
I climb over him, straddling his hips gently, careful not to press where it might hurt. My hands hover above his back for a moment, feeling the warmth radiating from him, the tension running deep. Then I start—slow circles, thumbs working up from his lower back to his shoulders.
He groans, low and guttural, but this time it sounds different. Not pain, but release.
“God,” he mutters into the pillow. “You’re good at this.”
“I learn fast.” My voice comes out softer than I mean it to. “You should’ve told me sooner.”
“Didn’t think you signed up to play nurse.”
“I didn’t, but I’m here anyway.” I swallow hard. “Tell me what they mean.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just breathes, slow and uneven. His shoulders are tense beneath my hands, every muscle pulled tight like a drawn bowstring. I can feel the battle happening inside him, between pride and pain, control and surrender.
After a while, he murmurs, “You really didn’t look me up?”
I smile faintly, leaning closer. “No.”
“You? The woman who can crack a Pentagon firewall in her sleep?”
“Some things I’d rather hear from you.”
He lets out a low sound, half amusement, half disbelief. “Guess I owe you the story, then.”
His voice is quiet at first, almost lost beneath the slow rhythm of my hands. “I was deployed in Somalia. It was supposed to be a short mission—recon, assist, extraction. Nothing we hadn’t done before.”
He pauses, breath catching as I work my thumbs along the ridge of his spine. I can feel the tension there, not just physical, but memory.
“But we got ambushed,” he continues. “An IED went off under the lead Humvee. I was in the second truck. Shrapnel hit me before I even knew what was happening. It threw me clear, broke half my ribs, tore through my legs and back. I remember the sound more than anything—like the world was ripping itself apart.”
My throat tightens. I keep moving, tracing gentle lines down his back, grounding him. “Jace…”
He exhales through his nose, a rough sound that’s half laugh, half pain. “They said I was lucky. Spent eight months in a hospital bed, wondering what the hell that meant.”
I feel his muscles twitch beneath my palms, small, involuntary spasms that tell me he’s reliving it even now.
“After that, I had to undergo physical therapy, every damn day for a year. I had to learn to walk again, learned not to hate the body that didn’t work the way it used to.”
He turns his head slightly, enough that I can see the profile of his face in the dim light—the hard line of his jaw, the shadow of old pain etched deep. “Sometimes I can stand. Sometimes I can’t. It’s a toss-up. But I got home to Daisy. That’s what matters.”
My hands still on his back. I lean down, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. “You almost died,” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer for a moment. Then, quietly: “Yeah. But I didn’t. That’s the part I try to remember.”
I rest my cheek against his back, listening to the slow thud of his heart. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
He huffs out a breath, part disbelief, part surrender. “You think I’m some kind of hero?”
“No.” I lift my head, tracing another scar with my fingertips. “I think you’re human. And that’s a lot harder.”
He goes very still. “You scare the hell out of me,” he murmurs.
My heart clenches. “Why?”
“Because I didn’t think I could feel this again. Not like this.” His voice breaks on the last word.
I slide down beside him, lying on my side so I can see his face. He turns toward me, eyes dark and soft and so heartbreakingly open.
“Jace…”
“I love you, Tessa.” It comes out quiet but sure, a steady heartbeat of truth. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. Didn’t plan it. But I do.”
For a moment, I just look at him, this man who’s seen war and loss and pain, who still finds a way to be gentle with me. My throat tightens.
“I love you too,” I whisper. “I have for a long time, but I’ve been scared to admit it to myself, to you, because of what it’ll mean. I have too much baggage, I—“
His hand finds my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. There’s a question in his eyes, a kind of fragile wonder. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
He exhales, the sound shaky, almost reverent. “Say it one more time.”
“I love you, Jace Morgan.”
His mouth finds mine then, slow, deliberate, and full of everything we’ve both been holding back. Not lust this time. Not need. Just love, stripped down to its bones.
The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate—a pull, a promise, a letting go. His hand slides into my hair, the other tracing the line of my spine like he’s memorizing it. Every brush of his skin against mine feels amplified, like the air itself hums between us.
He kisses me like he’s trying to make up for all the nights we spent pretending we didn’t want this. And I kiss him back because I’m completely and irrevocably in love with him.
His lips weave with mine in a familiar dance as his hands move quickly to take off my clothes.
I lift my hands to help him take off my T-shirt, leaving me naked from the waist up.
He smiles appreciatively, lowering his head to wrap his mouth around one of my nipples.
I mewl in response, arching my back into his touch as his hand massages my other breast. He works on my breasts for a while until I’m wanting and begging for more.
Jace takes me by surprise when he kneels and unbuttons my shorts. I lift my hips as he takes them off in one sweep, together with my panties, leaving me completely naked.
“Mmh,” he groans, pulling my panties to his nose.
I blush and hide my face away, but he doesn’t give me a moment to reply as he lifts my legs on his shoulders, exposing me to him. I’m almost concerned for his back and legs, which were in pain a few minutes ago, but he doesn’t seem to care, and I’m not about to question him. It’s not the time.
He lowers his head as his tongue darts out to lick a clean trail over my leaking pussy. I moan in pleasure as his tongue flicks against my clit, making me throw my head back in pleasure. My hands tremble as I fall back on the bed, unable to stay upright.
Jace parts my pussy lips with his fingers as he devours me with his mouth, his tongue fucking me.
My hands weave into his hair as I guide him to exactly where I need him.
He slides his thick digits into me, fucking me as his tongue works its magic on my clit.
I am putty in his hands, moaning his name over and over again.
An orgasm washes over me unexpectedly when he presses his tongue against my clit, his fingers curling over my G-spot.
My legs shake, dropping off his shoulders as he rises. He’s already half naked, so all he has to do is take off his boxers. My gaze wanders lower to his hard cock slapping against his stomach. My mouth waters as I flip things around, taking him into my mouth.
“Fuck. Yes, Tessa, just like that,” he groans as I take his whole length into my mouth, choking on his cock.
I pull back before I throw up and spit all over his cock, working him with both hands as my mouth recovers.
I take him back into my mouth, sucking him as I massage his balls.
He tugs at my hair, guiding my mouth faster on his cock.
Just as I’m about to push him over the edge, he pushes me back onto the bed, aligning himself with my pussy, thrusting forward in one swift move.
I cry out in surprise, but he gives me no time to recover as he pulls out and repeats the same motion.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. “I am never letting you go,” he whispers, conviction solid in his eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere.” My voice trembles, but it’s steady in meaning. “I want this. I want you.”
Something in his eyes shifts—the walls crumble, replaced by warmth that feels like fire. He touches my face, my jaw, my mouth, as if to make sure I’m real. Then he gathers me close again, our bodies fitting together in a way that feels inevitable.
The world shrinks to the space between heartbeats, to breath and heat and the sound of his name on my lips. Everything else fades away: the fear, the secrets, the ache of everything we’ve been through. What’s left is this—skin, warmth, trust.
His movements are careful, deliberate, as though he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he touches me too roughly.
I anchor him instead, pulling him closer, whispering his name into the dark.
He murmurs things against my skin I can barely catch—pieces of gratitude, wonder, maybe even disbelief.
I answer with my hands, tracing the path of his scars, reminding him he’s whole.
We shift from lovemaking to fucking, and I love every minute of it. He drives in and out of me relentlessly, driving me to the edge and back before I can climax.
He pulls out and flips me over, pulling me up so that my ass is in the air, before thrusting back into me. My scream is muffled by the pillows as he pounds into me without mercy because he knows I can take it.
“You’re mine,” he grits out.
“Yes,” I groan, biting my lower lip.
His hand lowers to my pussy and rubs on my clit as he continues thrusting in and out of me, his other hand on my boobs holding me to him.
“Jace,” I scream as I come, my walls clamping around his cock.
Jace pumps in me twice more before coming with a grunt. He holds me as he lowers us to the bed, taking me with him, laying me on his chest, our legs wound around each other.
I press my lips to his shoulder. “I love you,” I whisper.
He turns his head just enough to kiss my hair. “And I you. More than you will ever know.”
He shifts slightly, his arm tightening around me, pulling me closer in his sleep. It makes me smile. Even when he’s resting, he holds on like he’s afraid I’ll slip away.
I nestle into him, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat against my back. The warmth of it seeps into me, chasing away every lingering shadow.
For the first time in a long time, I’m not afraid of tomorrow. I close my eyes and let the dark take me, safe in his arms, safe in the quiet.