Page 16 of My End (Iron Fiends #10)

Tilly

His lips crashed into mine like he’d been holding back for a century.

And God, it felt worth the wait.

His mouth was hot, rough, and hungry, like he needed this more than air. My back hit the wall, and his body pressed into mine. His hands gripped my waist as his lips were on my jaw, then his hands moved to my hips again, like he didn’t know where to hold me first.

I moaned into him, and my fingers curled into the thin fabric of his shirt. His muscles flexed under my touch. He was solid and warm.

I was barefoot and undone, and for the first time since I’d stepped foot in this house, I felt alive.

He tasted like need and want and something darker.

Something dangerous.

But I didn’t care.

Not when his hand slid into my hair and tilted my head back for a deeper kiss.

When his hips pressed closer, and that undone button of his jeans brushed against my shorts, sending a jolt of heat straight to my core.

He groaned low in his throat, and I felt it vibrate through me.

Then he suddenly pulled back.

Hard.

Like I’d burned him.

I blinked, breathless, with my lips tingling. “What’s wrong?”

His chest rose and fell like he’d just sprinted a mile. He didn’t look at me at first, just stared somewhere over my shoulder, jaw clenched.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered.

“But…” I stepped closer, confused, already aching from the loss of his body against mine. “You wanted to.”

“That’s the problem.”

I waited.

He ran a hand over the back of his neck and let out a bitter laugh. “You’re you. And I’m… me. Just a guy who’s supposed to stand in the shadows and protect you from whatever the hell Boone’s scared of.” His voice dropped. “I’m not supposed to want you.”

I shook my head slowly. “I don’t care what your job is, Jake.”

His eyes snapped to mine. “You should.”

“Why?” I whispered.

He stared at me like I was missing something huge. “Doesn’t it make you wonder?” he asked. “Why Boone needs so many guards? Why this place is crawling with men who don’t blink twice at carrying weapons in their suit jackets? Doesn’t it make you wonder what he’s trying to keep out?”

I shrugged and swallowed the tight knot in my throat. “It’s politics. I’ve never really been interested in all that. I’ve always just wanted to… I don’t know, make the world a better and prettier place. The rest of it…” I waved vaguely. “Not my thing.”

His gaze softened, and I didn’t miss the small curl of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “You definitely help make the world pretty, sweetheart,” he murmured.

I smiled as my heart hammered in my chest. “You haven’t even seen my paintings.”

He lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug, but his voice was anything but indifferent. “I don’t have to. I heard you guys talking at dinner.”

I narrowed my eyes. “So you do listen.”

“You think I don’t?” he asked, amused.

“I think you look like a statue most of the time.”

He chuckled low and deep. “I’m not here to stand out. I’m here to blend in. To make sure nothing bad happens.”

“Well,” I said and stepped into his space again, “you didn’t do a very good job of that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “No?”

I laid my hand flat against his chest. Felt the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingers. “I noticed you right away.”

His expression shifted. That amusement melted into something hotter. Thicker. He leaned into me, his nose brushing mine. “That a good thing or a bad thing?”

I didn’t answer. Just tilted my chin and kissed him again.

Slower this time. Less shock. More need.

He groaned as I slid my hands into his hair and tugged gently to coax him closer. His hands dropped to my thighs and lifted me effortlessly. My legs wrapped around his waist, and I gasped as my back hit the wall again.

The friction between us was scorching.

He kissed me like he needed to memorize every sound I made. I kissed him like I was already hooked on the taste of him. I pressed my chest to his and ground against him just enough to make his breath hitch.

“Fuck,” he muttered into my mouth.

My hands ran down his chest, my nails grazing his skin through that thin white undershirt. He rocked against me, one hand gripping the back of my thigh and the other planted against the wall beside my head.

Moans and sighs filled the room, our bodies pressed together in ways that felt inevitable.

When he finally pulled back, we were both panting.

“You should go,” he said with his voice rough as gravel.

I blinked at him, dazed. “Why?”

His jaw tightened. “Because if you don’t leave, you’re going to be in my bed in ten seconds.”

My heart kicked up in my chest. My lips parted on a silent inhale.

God, I wanted him.

But I wasn’t ready for that . Not yet.

I reached up and kissed him again, soft this time. Sweet. A promise, maybe.

Then I lowered my legs, and he stepped back.

“I’ll see you at breakfast?” I whispered, my pulse still pounding.

He nodded. “Not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

I gave him one last look I hoped said this isn’t over , then I slipped out the door and closed it gently behind me.

I leaned back against it with a shaky breath.

I had just come to Jake’s room to ask what he meant when he told me to be careful.

Now?

Now I had a whole other question.

What was that, and when could we do it again?