Chapter 13: The Ultimatum
The heavy door to the loft groaned shut, sealing them in a pocket of silence thick enough to taste. Before the deadbolt could click, Jace moved.
His hands were on her hips, spinning her. Her back hit the solid oak with a force that stole her breath. Not pain, but impact. A declaration. The familiar scent of his space—linseed oil, stale coffee, his cologne—engulfed her, but it felt different now. Charged. A trap she’d walked into willingly.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and rough. The playful glint was gone, replaced by a hard, clear focus.
She met his eyes. The flicker from the neon diner sign outside pulsed through the high windows, painting his face in strokes of red and shadow.
His fingers hooked into the collar of the t-shirt she wore—his t-shirt—and pulled. The hem ripped upwards, the sound shockingly loud. Cool air hit her stomach. He didn’t kiss her. He studied her, his gaze dragging down her body and back up, as if inventorying what was his.
“You want both of us?” The question wasn’t loud. It was matter-of-fact, stripped bare. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “Prove it.”
Before she could process the words, his hands were on her shoulders, turning her again. He spun her away from the door, facing her into the depth of the loft. Her heart stuttered, then hammered against her ribs.
Nathan was there.
He stood halfway across the open space, just outside the circle of light from the single, brilliant architect’s lamp on his desk. He was still in his dark slacks and the grey Henley from earlier, sleeves pushed up his forearms. He wasn’t moving. He was just watching, a silhouette carved from the shadows, his arms crossed over his chest.
The hunger in his eyes wasn’t passive. It was a dark, focused thing. He’d been waiting.
Jace pressed against her from behind, his body a solid line of heat. His hands slid around her waist, possessive, pulling her back into him. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his voice a low vibration she felt in her bones.
“He watched us leave,” Jace murmured, his lips brushing her ear. “He’s been standing right there ever since. Watching the door.”
Nathan uncrossed his arms. He took one slow, deliberate step into the edge of the light. The planes of his face were severe, all hard angles and restrained tension. He didn’t look at Jace. He looked only at her.
“Is this what you want, Lilah?” Nathan’s voice was calm, too calm, a deep contrast to the storm in the room.
She was caught between them, the solid reality of Jace at her back and the magnetic pull of Nathan a few feet away. Shame warred with a dark, thrilling curl of desire. This was wrong. Messy. A catastrophe in the making. The part of her that was an EMT, that sought order and control, screamed to run.
The part of her that was just a woman, raw from a broken past and hungry for feeling, stayed rooted.
Jace’s hands moved. One stayed splayed on her stomach, holding her to him. The other drifted lower, his fingertips tracing the waistband of her jeans. A claim. A question.
She didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Instead, she lifted her chin, meeting Nathan’s burning gaze. She let him see the conflict, the guilt, the sheer, undiluted want. It was the only answer she had.
Nathan’s controlled expression fractured, just for a second. Something raw and desperate flashed in his eyes. He took another step forward.
“Tell me to walk away,” he said, the words so quiet they were almost lost in the hum of the refrigerator. “Tell me this isn’t where we’re going, and I’ll go. Right now.”
Jace’s laugh was a soft, humorless puff of air against her neck. “He won’t, Nate. Look at her.”
She was trembling. A fine, uncontrollable shake that started deep inside. The air was too thin. She couldn’t get enough of it.
Nathan closed the remaining distance. He didn’t touch her. He stood so close she could see the faint stubble shadowing his jaw, the flecks of darker color in his grey irises. He smelled like sandalwood and cold night air. He looked from her eyes to where Jace’s hand rested on her, then back.
“No more running,” Nathan said, and it sounded like a vow, or a sentence. “No more between us. You’re here. Be here.”
He reached out then, his hand slow, giving her every chance to pull away. His knuckles brushed her cheek, a touch so gentle it hurt. It was the opposite of Jace’s claiming hold. It was a request.
Jace moved behind her, his mouth on the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “Your choice, Lilah,” he whispered, the words muffled against her skin. “But you’re choosing.”
The choice was an illusion, and they all knew it. She had chosen the moment she placed her hand in Jace’s outside the car. She had chosen on the balcony. She had chosen a hundred times in the weeks leading to this.
She turned her head, just slightly, into Nathan’s caress. A surrender.
Nathan’s control snapped.
His hand firmed, cupping her jaw, his thumb brushing her bottom lip. His other arm slid around her, pulling her forward, away from Jace’s chest even as Jace’s grip tightened, refusing to let go. For a dizzying second, she was the focal point of a silent tug-of-war, suspended between their competing claims.
Then Jace let out a low sound, almost a laugh, and his hold changed. He wasn’t pulling her back anymore. His hands moved to her hips, steadying her as Nathan’s mouth finally found hers.
Nathan’s kiss was nothing like Jace’s in the car. It was deep, consuming, all the pent-up restraint of the last weeks pouring into a single point of contact. It was an apology and a demand. She kissed him back, her hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders.
Behind her, Jace shifted. His lips trailed down the side of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. His hands slipped under the torn hem of her shirt, palms sliding up her ribs. He was everywhere, a constant, warm pressure against her back while Nathan owned her front.
It was too much. Sensation overload. The scratch of Nathan’s stubble, the soft press of Jace’s mouth, the contrasting scents of them both weaving around her. The world narrowed to touch and heat and the ragged sound of three people breathing.
Nathan broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers, his eyes closed. “Okay,” he breathed, the word sounding torn from him. “Okay.”
He opened his eyes and looked over her shoulder at Jace. Some silent communication passed between them, years of friendship condensing into a single glance. Nathan gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
Jace’s hands stilled on her skin. Then, he gently turned her, guiding her until she faced Nathan again, but now Jace was a presence at her side, his arm a loose band around her waist. The dynamic had shifted. The competition bled away, replaced by a strange, unnerving solidarity.
Nathan looked down at her, his gaze tracing her flushed face, her kiss-swollen lips, the torn shirt. His expression was unreadable. “Bedroom,” he said, and it wasn’t a suggestion.
Jace’s arm tightened. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You heard him.”
They moved as one unit, a confused, intimate constellation navigating the familiar chaos of the loft towards the dark hallway that led to their separate rooms. Lilah’s legs felt unsteady, her mind a white noise of anticipation and dread. She had no idea whose room they were heading towards, whose bed she would end up in, what lines were about to be crossed that could never be uncrossed.
All she knew was that she was walking forward, flanked by the two men who had upended her life, and she had absolutely no intention of stopping.