"Do you think he saw you yesterday at the restaurant?"
Jace shakes his head, but there’s a careful note in his voice when he answers. "I don’t think so. He was already heading for the door when I turned around. But you can never be too sure with him. He’s always been good at noticing things."
He pulls out his phone and types something quickly, thumb moving fast over the screen. I catch the name before he hits send. Crewe. One of the brothers. Probably updating the family about the plan to visit their mother tomorrow and the news that Victor has left town again. The web of secrets and family and danger feels tighter around us every hour, but sitting here across from Jace with the string lights glowing overhead and his knee pressed against mine under the table, it doesn’t feel as terrifying as it should.
Dinner stretches into easy conversation, and for once, I’m not thinking about the fact that it’s all supposed to be an act. He tells me stories about his brothers. The time Colt tried to teach Banks how to surf and they both ended up with matching bruises. The way Mack always had the best plans but somehow they still got caught. I counter with stories about Anniston dragging me into her schemes when we were kids, the way she could talk me into anything with that serious little face. The food’s perfect. The clams crispy on the outside, tender inside. The cold beer cuts through the richness. Every time our knees brush under the table I feel the spark of it. The lights from the boardwalk danceacross the dark water and the sound of the ocean is a constant low rhythm underneath the laughter and clinking glasses.
After we pay and step back out into the night air, Jace takes my hand again without asking. We walk toward the candy-striped lighthouse at the far end of the boardwalk. The tower stands tall and bright against the dark sky, its red and white stripes glowing under the lights. People take pictures at the base, but we find a quieter spot near the railing where the sound of the waves is louder and the crowd thins. The breeze is cool against my skin. Jace stands close, his shoulder brushing mine, his hand still warm in mine.
I lean against the railing and look out at the dark water. The lighthouse light sweeps across in steady arcs. After everything today, after the way he touched me and then held me as if I was the only thing keeping him from falling apart, the feelings I’ve been trying to ignore are impossible to push down anymore. I’m falling. Hard. And I don’t know how to stop it.
"I’ve never really had a serious boyfriend," I say quietly. "A few dates. Nothing that ever stuck. I always told myself I was too busy with work. Too focused on my students and my quiet life. But the truth is I never met anyone who made me want to try."
Jace squeezes my hand gently. His voice is calm and honest when he answers. "I’ve only had the one girlfriend. But it never amounted to anything.”
I turn to look at him. The lighthouse light sweeps over his profile, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the warmth in his eyes. He looks at me like he’s waiting for more, so I give it to him.
"I always thought the perfect man would be someone serious. Buttoned-up. The kind of man who wears suits and has his whole life mapped out. Someone stable. Predictable. Safe." I laugh softly, shaking my head. "I never could’ve imagined falling for a man with your personality. Cocky. Charming. The kind of guy who shows up in board shorts and then goes down on a woman like it’s the most important thing he’s ever done. But here I am. Falling anyway."
The words hang in the air between us. I didn’t mean to say it quite like that, but it’s true and too late to take back. Jace doesn’t look away. His free hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing over my skin in that slow, deliberate way that makes me lean into his touch without thinking.
"Good," he says, voice rough around the edges. "Because I’m right there with you, Sadie. Have been since the first time you glared at me on that porch and made it clear I was the last person you wanted to deal with."
He leans in and kisses me. It’s slow and deep, his hand sliding to the back of my neck as he pulls me closer. I kiss him back, my hand resting over his heart the way I did yesterday when everything changed. The lighthouse light sweeps over us in steady arcs. The sound of the waves fills the spaces between our breaths. His body is warm and solid against mine, and for a moment the rest of the world, the danger, the secrets, the upcoming concert, all of it fades into background noise.
When we finally pull apart we’re both breathing a little faster. The town continues around us. People laughing farther down the boardwalk. Music playing. The steady flash of the lighthouse. But in this small space none of it matters more than the man holding me.
We don’t say anything else on the walk back to the Jeep. We don’t need to. My hand stays in his the whole way, and the feeling in my chest is equal parts terrifying and right.
15
Jace
The drive back to the safe house is thick with tension. The kiss at the lighthouse is still burning on my lips, the taste of her, the way she leaned into me tells me she was finally letting go of whatever walls she had left. My hand stays on her thigh the whole way, thumb tracing slow circles over the fabric of her sundress. Every time she shifts, the material rides up a little higher and I have to focus on the road instead of pulling over and finishing what we started right there on the side of the street.
Sadie’s quiet beside me, but I can feel the way her body hums. The same energy that’s been building between us since the beach, since the club, since this afternoon when I had her coming on my tongue and then held her because I needed her closeness more than anything else. Tonight it feels different. The walk to the lighthouse, the way she opened up about never having a serious boyfriend, the way she admitted she’s falling for me. It’s not pretend anymore. It hasn’t been for a while.
I park the Jeep under the covered carport and switch off the engine. The sound of the ocean is louder here, waves rolling insteady rhythm against the sand. I turn to her and she’s already looking at me, eyes dark in the dim light from the porch. Neither of us says a word. We move at the same time.
The second we’re inside the safe house I push the door closed with my foot and pull her against me. The kiss is nothing like the one at the lighthouse. This one’s hungry. Desperate. My hands slide into her hair as I back her up against the wall beside the door. She makes this soft sound against my mouth and it goes straight through me. I press closer, and the way she responds tells me she’s been wanting this as much as I have.
"Sadie," I murmur against her lips, my voice rough. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me."
She pulls back enough to look at me, her breathing fast. Her hands are fisted in my shirt. "I want this. I want you. All of you."
That’s all I need. I kiss her again, deeper, my tongue sliding against hers while my hands move down her sides. The thin fabric of her sundress is soft under my palms. I find the hem and slide my hands underneath, palms skimming up the warm, smooth skin of her thighs.Fuck me.She’s not wearing anything underneath the dress. The realization crashes over me and I groan into her mouth.
"Fuck, you’re not wearing any panties," I say against her neck, nipping at the spot that makes her shiver. "Have you been like this all night? Walking around with me, holding my hand, knowing I could’ve touched you anytime?"
She laughs breathlessly, the sound turning into a gasp when my fingers brush higher. "Maybe. Maybe I wanted you to find out."
I pull back enough to gaze at her. Her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen from kissing, hair messy from my hands. She’s thewoman who’s been living in my thoughts since the day we met. "You’re going to be the death of me, Wells."
I lift her then, hands under her thighs, and she wraps her legs around my waist without hesitation. I carry her down the short hall to the bedroom, kissing her the whole way. The feel of her body against mine, the way she clings to me, the soft sounds she makes every time I squeeze her thighs. It’s almost too much.
I set her down on the edge of the bed and step back long enough to pull my shirt over my head. She watches me with dark eyes, then reaches for the straps of her dress. I stop her with a hand on her wrist.
"Let me," I say. My voice comes out lower than I expect. "I want to unwrap you."