I grunt in acknowledgement, already half asleep. The door creaks open, then quietly shuts.

It seems like only moments later when I hear the door squeak open again. I still feel tired, but my stomach has settled and the buzz of alcohol is absent.

I open my eyes and watch Jace as he enters the room, turns to shut his door, and walks over to his dresser. He flicks on the small lamp sitting on top of the dresser, and I cringe as my eyes adjust to the harsh appearance of light. The glow cast allows me a glimpse of what must be Jace’s bedroom. I glance around, but can only make out shadowed shapes in the feeble light.

My attention is diverted from studying Jace’s room when I look back over and see he’s started undressing. He pulls off his t-shirt and jeans before turning toward me in just his boxer briefs. He stills when he sees I’m awake, looking like a perfectly carved Adonis in the shadows that emphasize the angles and ridges of his body. He takes a few cautious steps toward me and takes a seat on the end of his bed.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, looking at me with concern.

I don’t answer at first, distracted. “Better,” I finally tell him, my voice scratchy with sleep.

The presence of Jace’s muscular, mostly naked body so close to me is all-consuming, and I’m struggling to focus on anything besides the overwhelming lust slowly spreading through me.

Jace and I stare at each other for a long moment. I wonder what he sees on my face.

He moves to stand just as my hand reaches toward the bottom of my top. Jace freezes as I slowly drag the silk material higher and higher, until my entire chest is exposed. I pull the shirt over my head, revealing the lacy bra that’s all I’m wearing underneath. I toss my shirt on the floor and pull my phone out from my skirt, setting it on the table next to me. Then, I begin to shimmy out of the suede material, eventually sitting up so I can pull the stretchy fabric down my long legs.

Jace doesn’t move or say a word as I undress. I toss my skirt down next to my shirt. We sit side by side in our underwear, studying each other in the light from the lamp that barely reaches the edge of Jace’s bed.

I shift forward. Jace’s athletic reflexes anticipate my movement. We collide at the same moment, and I fall back against the soft comforter. Only our arms are touching. The rest of Jace’s weight is suspended above me, although he’s just as close as he was in the kitchen. I study the shades of gray in his eyes as we resume our silent stare-off. The color is darkest close to the pupil.

“What are you doing, Vivienne?” Jace whispers.

“Can’t you tell?”

Although he’s grasping my arms, I still have enough range of movement to raise my head and close the small gap between our lips. The heat that flares within me when our mouths touch is staggering; it dazzles my mind and invigorates my senses. Jace freezes for a moment, but then begins to kiss me back. We become a tangled mess of heated touches. Nothing exists beyond the sensation of his tongue in my mouth and his hands running along my body.