Chapter 9 WHEN IT HAPPENS

It was a Thursday night.

Zara had just gotten out of the shower, hair damp and wild, wrapped in one of her oversized hoodies and cotton shorts. Her phone buzzed from where it was charging beside the bed.

Jace: I'm outside.

Zara: Did we plan something?

Jace: Nope.

Jace: I just needed to see you.

Zara: Door's unlocked. Come in.

She didn't have time to overthink it-not the way her heart skipped at the idea of him being close again, not the heat still clinging to her skin from the shower. She heard the door creak open, then footsteps down the hall.

And then... he was in her room.

Jace stood in the doorway, hoodie on, jeans slung low, hair tousled from the wind. His eyes scanned her quickly-bare legs, flushed face, damp hair-and something shifted in his expression.

He shut the door.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey."

Zara sat on the edge of the bed, heart thudding.

Jace crossed the room in a few steps, not saying a word, just standing in front of her, looking at her like she was something holy.

She looked up at him. "Rough day?"

He gave a slow nod. "Only one thing could fix it."

Her throat dried. "Yeah?"

"You."

Her breath caught. And then-he reached out and cupped her face with both hands.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered, forehead touching hers. "Tell me now if you're not sure."

Zara swallowed, eyes locked on his lips. "I'm not gonna say that."

A pause. The air between them turned molten.

"Then I'm gonna kiss you now," he breathed.

And he did.

It wasn't soft.

It was heat and hunger and years of restraint unraveling all at once. His mouth crushed hers, his hands slid into her damp hair, and Zara melted into him like she'd been waiting for this forever.

She clutched his hoodie, dragging him closer, pulling him between her knees. He groaned into her mouth, hands moving to her thighs, gripping them hard, spreading her open.

The hoodie slipped off her shoulder. His lips followed. Down her neck. Over the skin still warm from the shower. He sucked softly at the base of her throat and her head fell back with a breathy moan.

"Jace..." she whispered.

"I've wanted this for so long," he said against her skin. "Tell me what you want, Z. I'll give you everything."

Zara grabbed the hem of his hoodie and yanked it upward. He raised his arms, letting her pull it off, revealing the chest she'd stolen glances at for years.

Now-she got to touch.

Her fingers ran down his chest, his abs, his hips. She leaned in and pressed kisses to his collarbone, her hands sliding under the waistband of his jeans. He shivered.

"Bed," she breathed.

He didn't need to be told twice.

They scrambled upward together, bodies tangled, mouths never breaking. She peeled her hoodie off, revealing the bralette underneath-black, lacy, delicate. Jace's eyes darkened.

"God, Zara..."

He kissed her again-softer this time. Slower. With reverence.

Then he kissed lower.

Her neck. Her chest. The edge of lace.

His hand slid under the bralette and cupped her breast. She arched into him, gasping, fingers buried in his curls. His tongue circled her nipple, gentle at first, then firmer, pulling soft moans from her throat.

She tugged his jeans down. He kicked them off. The sight of him-bare chest, boxers tight across his hips, jaw clenched-nearly wrecked her.

He looked at her like she was already undone.

And she was.

"Still good?" he asked, voice low and rough.

She nodded, breathless. "More than good."

He slid her shorts off, slow and teasing. Then kissed up her thighs, leaving fire in his wake.

And then he tasted her.

Zara cried out, hips jerking. His mouth was sinful. His tongue moved in circles, then flicked faster. He gripped her thighs, holding her in place, eyes never leaving her face.

She came with a shudder, her back arching, his name tumbling from her lips like a prayer.

And still-he wasn't done.

He kissed her thighs gently, then moved up, hovering over her. Their noses touched.

"I want you," he whispered.

"I want you too."

Jace reached into his jeans, pulled out a condom, and raised a brow. "Prepared."

Zara laughed breathlessly. "Cocky."

"Confident," he corrected, rolling it on.

Then-he slid inside her.

Slowly. Carefully.

They both moaned.

He paused, letting her adjust, forehead resting against hers.

"You okay?" he asked again.

"Better than okay," she whispered.

He started to move. Long, slow thrusts. Gentle at first, then deeper, more deliberate. Her nails dug into his back. He kissed her mouth, her jaw, her shoulder. Over and over.

Their bodies moved like they'd done this a hundred times. Like they knew each other.

"Z," he gasped. "You feel like... fuck."

She clenched around him, legs wrapping around his waist. "Don't stop."

"I couldn't if I tried."

They moved faster, harder, needier. Skin to skin. Sweat and breath and the sound of their names echoing in the room like music.

She came again with a cry, and he followed, groaning her name as he buried himself deep one last time.

And then silence.

Only their breathing. Their racing hearts.

Jace collapsed beside her, arm pulling her close.

She turned into his chest, kissed his shoulder. He kissed her hair.

"I love you," he whispered, voice raw.

Zara closed her eyes, heart full and aching.

"I know," she said. "I think... I love you too."