Page 22

ALICE

T he cabin is quiet, the kind of quiet that feels like a secret.

The sun’s warm glow filters through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.

Jason’s sprawled on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the back, his boots kicked off by the door.

He’s scrolling through something on his phone, but his attention’s half-hearted at best. I sit cross-legged next to him, a book in my lap, but I haven’t turned a page in ten minutes.

“You’re staring,” he says, not looking up.

“Am not.”

“You are. It’s weirdly intense. I can feel it.”

I toss the book onto the coffee table. “Maybe I’m just trying to figure out how you manage to look so… disheveled all the time.”

He glances up, smirking. “Disheveled? That’s your word of the day?”

“It’s accurate. You’re one step away from a leaf in your hair.”

He sets the phone down, turning to face me fully. “You saying I’m not a fashion icon?”

“I’m saying you look like you wrestled a bear and lost.”

He leans in, close enough that I can see the faint stubble shadowing his jaw. “Maybe I did.”

“Doubt it,” I say, my voice softer than I meant it to be.

He hums, his eyes dropping to my lips. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Staring.”

“Oh, shut up.”

He doesn’t. Instead, he leans in, his hand brushing my cheek, and then his lips are on mine. It’s slow, easy, the kind of kiss that feels like coming home. His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and I forget to breathe.

When we break apart, he doesn’t go far, his forehead resting against mine. “So,” he murmurs, his voice low, “you finally figured out how to shut me up.”

“Temporary fix,” I say, my heart still racing.

He grins, lazy and warm. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

And then he kisses me again, and the world narrows to just this—the warmth of his hands, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the feeling that, for once, everything’s exactly where it’s supposed to be.

He moves slow, deliberate, his hands sliding down my sides like he’s memorizing the curve of me. The couch cushions sink under my weight as he lays me back, his eyes never leaving mine. There’s that smirk, the one that makes my stomach flip, but it’s softer now, almost tender.

“You’re staring again,” he says, his voice low, teasing.

“Can’t help it,” I fire back, my breath hitching as his fingers hook into the waistband of my shorts. “You’re kind of hard to look away from.”

He laughs, a deep rumble that vibrates through me as he tugs my shorts and panties down, his hands brushing against my thighs. The cool air kisses my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his gaze.

And then his mouth is on me, and I’m done talking. His tongue is slow, deliberate against my folds, every flick and stroke sending shocks of pleasure up my spine. I bury my fingers in his hair, tugging lightly, and he hums against my clit, the vibration making my toes curl.

“Jason,” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper.

He pulls back just enough to look up at me, his lips glistening. “Yeah?”

“Don’t stop.”

A grin spreads across his face, wicked and knowing. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

And then he’s back at it, his hands gripping my hips to keep me still as he works me over. My head falls back, the world narrowing to the sensation of his mouth on me, the soft sounds he makes, the way his fingers dig into my skin.

He shifts slightly, his tongue finding a rhythm that has me arching off the couch. “Close,” I manage, my voice trembling.

He pulls back, his breath warm against my skin, and I whimper at the loss.

His eyes lock on mine, dark and hungry, as he stands just long enough to shove his pants down.

The sight of his cock, hard and ready, sends a shiver through me.

He kneels back on the couch, his hands sliding up my thighs, and I can’t help but laugh, soft and breathless.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, his voice rough but amused.

“You,” I say, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “You’re always so… intense.”

“You love it,” he says, leaning in to kiss me, slow and deep. His hands grip my hips, pulling me closer, and I feel the heat of him against me. He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against mine. “Ready?”

“Always,” I whisper, my heart pounding.

He slides his cock into me, slow and steady, and I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. He pauses, letting me adjust, his breath hot against my neck.

“Okay?” he murmurs.

“More than okay,” I say, my voice trembling.

He starts to move, each thrust deliberate, each one drawing a soft moan from my lips. His hands roam my body, mapping every curve, every inch of me. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he groans, his rhythm faltering for just a moment.

“You’re going to kill me,” he says, his voice strained.

“Not my fault you’re irresistible,” I tease, my fingers tangling in his hair.

He laughs, the sound low and warm, and then he’s kissing me again, his movements growing more urgent. I can feel the tension building, coiling tight in my stomach, and I cling to him, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Jason,” I whisper, my voice breaking.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “I’ve got you.”

And then I’m falling, the world dissolving into a haze of pleasure as he follows me over the edge, his body shuddering against mine. He collapses on top of me, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.

Jason’s hand slides down my stomach, his fingers brushing against me with a slow, deliberate teasing that makes my breath hitch. His head rests on my chest, his stubble scratching my skin, and I know that smirk is tugging at his lips before he even says anything.

“Still with me?” he murmurs, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver through me.

“Barely,” I say, my voice breathless, my fingers tangled in his hair. “You’re not exactly making it easy.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against me as his fingers circle, light and maddening. “Good. Didn’t think easy was your style.”

“You’re an ass,” I manage, my hips lifting off the couch, chasing his touch.

“And yet here you are,” he says, his voice lazy, his fingers slipping inside me, curling just right. My back arches, a soft moan escaping my lips, and he hums, pleased with himself.

“Shut up,” I whisper, my nails digging into his shoulder.

“Make me,” he says, breathing heavy against me, his fingers moving faster now, pushing me closer to the edge.

I don’t have the words to retort, my body tensing, pleasure building and coiling tighter until it breaks, washing over me in waves. My breath comes in short, sharp gasps, my fingers tightening in his hair as I ride it out.

When it’s over, I collapse back onto the couch, my chest rising and falling as he pulls his hand away, his smirk widening.

“Told you,” he says, his voice smug.

“Told me what?” I say, my voice hazy, my limbs heavy.

“That you love it.”

I stick out my tongue, but I’m too spent to argue. He shifts, pulling me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me. His heartbeat is steady under my ear, his breathing slowing as he presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“Sleep,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost tender.

I close my eyes, the warmth of him surrounding me, and let myself drift.