Chapter 56
Zoe
You’ll probably never read this note, but I have to write it anyway: When you asked me if I had ever been in love, and I answered with yes, I meant I was in love with you.
—Zoe
I go back to bed and am reading when Jase comes in and throws his duffel bag into the corner of my room. It’s late, and he looks exhausted.
“Is everything all right?” Worried, I sit up in bed and put my book aside.
He collapses onto my bed with a groan and lies his head on my chest. His arm is heavy across my body. “My parents came today. To talk.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Both of them?” I ask, stunned that Jase’s father actually made the effort to approach him.
“Yes,” he says, sighing heavily.
“What happened?”
He shrugs. “It could have been worse.”
So it was pretty bad. I brush back a few strands of hair from his forehead. This time, his sigh is soft, and he snuggles up against me. For a long time, we’re quiet. I wait until he starts to talk.
“They apologized. Or at least, they pretended to. But . . . it wasn’t enough.” His voice breaks as he tells me about the conversation with his parents, and my heart aches for him. I hate that it hurts him so much.
“That’s so awful,” I say when he’s done.
“Yeah.”
“What do you want to do now?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have a clue. I need time to think, and then we’ll see.”
“Then take your time.”
He looks up at me, and his eyes are so green. “You told Dad that he was the one who was disappointing me.”
“I did.” I blush.
He smiles. “Thank you.”
I smile back. “Any time.”
He takes my hand and kisses my palm. My skin begins to tingle. “How was your day?” he asks, and I know that he wants to ask how I’m doing, but he’s not going to, because he also knows that I don’t have a real answer to the question.
“Pearson was here.” I drop the bombshell, just like that. Jase sits up abruptly.
“What?”
“He came to see me. Charlotte got expelled.”
“What?” His eyes go wide, and I have to smile. All at once, I feel much lighter.
“Don’t ask me how he found out what she did. But he knows. And there were consequences.”
Jase opens his mouth and closes it again. “Fuck.” It doesn’t sound like a curse. More like an expression of relief.
“Yes.”
“She’s gone.”
“Yes.”
“Thank God.”
“Yes.” I smile.
“How are you?” He puts a hand on my cheek. He strokes my lips with his thumb, and a warm tingling spreads through me.
“Better,” I say, and it’s the truth. I really do feel better.
He tries to take his hand back, but I hold on to it tightly.
Desire is pulsing through my body. It’s been days since the last time he kissed me properly—since he really kissed me.
It feels like an eternity. I think about my talk with Mom, and how I told her that I can talk to Jase.
And I know I can. But maybe . . . maybe we don’t need to talk just now.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper.
His eyes widen, and he swallows. He leaves his hand on my cheek.
My heart pauses and then beats double time.
At the same time, we move closer together.
Slowly. A little hesitantly, a little unsure.
He caresses the back of my neck, and his touch is gentle and sure.
I forget how to breathe for a second as our noses touch.
We’re still looking searchingly at each other, and neither of us closes our eyes.
I can feel his breath on my face. His lips are so close. So, so close.
The first kiss barely counts. It’s a tender touch, so light that for a second I think I must have imagined it.
My whole body feels warm and soft, and I want to kiss him.
I need to kiss him. My lips meet his. So familiar.
He sighs, and so do I. And then the tears come again, because he kisses me and I kiss him, and it feels so right.
The thoughts in my head go silent; the voices of doubt fade away. And I know that this time, the panic won’t come back. I know that everything between us is really and truly fine.
Because he’s Jase.
And I’m Zoe.
Because we’re us.
And because he knows my secrets, and I know his.
Jase wipes the tears off my face, but he keeps kissing me, and my lips open. Our tongues meet, and heat shoots through my veins and pools in my middle. I cradle his face in both hands and pull him close, closer and closer, but it’s not close enough. He can’t be close enough.
His erection is pressing firmly against my belly, and I feel a pulsing between my legs.
I tug at his T-shirt. I want to feel his skin against mine.
Jase leans back and pulls it off over his head in one fluid motion.
His body has become so familiar to me in the last few weeks, but all I can do is stare at him: his defined chest muscles, his flat belly, the muscles that dip into the waistband of his pants.
I reach out and trace those muscles, and I have to smile when he gets goose bumps.
I take his hands and interlace our fingers briefly before guiding them to my own body. I want him to undress me.
He does it, but agonizingly slowly. First the sweatshirt, then the pants.
He hesitates at my underwear, but I raise my hips invitingly, and a second later, the thin garment lands next to the other clothes on the floor.
His lips meet mine again, gently and carefully.
This is different than before. Less demanding.
Less desperate. Somehow deeper. Somehow everything.
Slowly, very slowly, his mouth wanders along my jaw to my neck.
He sucks on the delicate skin behind my ear, and I moan softly.
Farther and farther downward, over my collarbone, to my breasts.
I’m glowing, and I forget everything as his tongue plays with my nipples.
He sucks on me, and I arch my back, pushing myself against him, because I want more.
But Jase takes his time, kissing his way farther down my body, then finally spreading my legs. A sound of yearning escapes me as his tongue glides over the center of my desire, and then there’s only heat and longing for more.
“Jase,” I plead, and I don’t even know what I’m asking him for, but he understands me anyway, slipping a finger inside me.
I exhale with a tremor. But it’s not enough.
I want all of him inside me. I reach for him, tugging on his shoulders, and he gives in and raises his head.
His lips are wet and shiny and a little swollen.
He smiles, and my heart is about to burst, because he’s smiling like that for me.
“Hey,” he whispers, then kisses me gently.
“Hey,” I whisper against his lips, returning his kiss.
For a moment, we’re both silent. His erection pulses between my legs, and his heart is hammering against my chest. Mine too.
We’re just tingling, pulsing heat. I move first, raising my hips just a little, and he exhales sharply.
My smile gets wider. He reaches between us, and then we both hold our breath as he slides into me.
That feels different now too. Better. More. He starts to move slowly inside me, and I adapt to his tempo, pushing myself against him. I want to cry because it feels so good. So real. So much like us.
“Pixie,” he whispers in my ear, and I know what he wants to say. But he doesn’t say it, and neither do I. It’s not necessary. I know how he feels; I know what this feeling is between us. He doesn’t have to say a word.
“I know,” I whisper back. I caress his back and grip his bottom, pulling him even closer.
He groans, and the sound resonates through me.
I lose control, pushing myself against him, pushing him deeper, deeper, deeper inside me.
He changes the angle, and everything around me begins to spin.
The world tilts, and I never knew that anything could ever feel this good.
“Fuck, Zoe, I—” Jase breaks off, his body tensing, and then he moans because he can’t hold back anymore.
And that’s okay, because nothing is better than knowing that I’m making him feel this way.
But he doesn’t stop moving, and the muscles inside me contract.
My whole body is in flames, and then his hand slides between us, hitting the point that’s pulsing with longing, and I have to bite my lip not to scream, because I can’t control myself anymore. Oh God, I can’t.
My body arches as I come, moaning his name, and there’s nothing in the world but the two of us.
Jase gazes at me. His eyes are gleaming, and I love it. I love him. Everything about him. He smiles, and I know what he’s going to say.
“How does that feel?”
I smile, and he knows what my answer will be.
“Like us.”