Chapter 14: Crossed Wires & Stolen Moments
The hallway felt longer in the dark, the geometric pattern of the runner blurring beneath her unsteady feet. Nathan led, his broad back a dark silhouette, his hand wrapped firmly around hers. Jace followed close behind, his presence a warm pressure at her back, his fingers lightly tracing the line of her spine through the torn cotton of her shirt. No one spoke. The only sounds were their footsteps, the rush of blood in her ears, and the distant, humid sigh of the city through an open window somewhere.
Nathan stopped at the last door on the left. His door. He pushed it open without ceremony and guided her inside, releasing her hand only to turn and close the door softly behind Jace, who leaned against it, watching.
The difference from Jace’s chaotic loft was immediate, profound. Nathan’s room was a study in controlled lines and muted tones. The polished oak floor gleamed under the ambient neon glow bleeding in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. The cityscape was a dizzying tapestry of lights, a silent spectator. The bed was a vast expanse of black linen, impeccably made, though one corner of the duvet was turned down, revealing sheets the color of slate. It smelled like him—sandalwood, clean cotton, and a faint, sharp hint of graphite.
Lilah stood in the center of the room, feeling acutely exposed. The ripped shirt hung open, cool air whispering across her skin. She wrapped her arms around herself, not from cold, but from a sudden, dizzying wave of reality. This was happening. In Nathan’s ordered sanctuary, the epicenter of his control.
Nathan faced her. In the semi-darkness, his features were all stark planes and deep shadows. He looked at her, really looked, his gaze traveling from her tousled hair, over the freckles scattered across her flushed chest, down to her clenched hands. The hunger from the loft was still there, but it had been refined, focused into something more dangerous.
“Last chance,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “Say the word. I’ll walk Jace out, tuck you in, and bring you a glass of water. No questions.”
From the door, Jace let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Cruel, Nate. Offering her an out now.”
“It’s not an out,” Nathan said, his eyes never leaving Lilah’s. “It’s a choice. A real one.”
She knew he meant it. The Nathan from the balcony, the one who held himself rigidly apart, was offering her a door back to simplicity. But that door felt flimsy now, like painted scenery. The real thing, the complicated, terrifying, electric thing, was right here in this room.
She let her arms fall to her sides. “I’m not saying it.”
Something unlocked in Nathan’s posture. A tension she hadn’t fully recognized drained from his shoulders, leaving only intent. He crossed the space between them in two strides.
His hands came up to frame her face, his touch surprisingly tender. “Then don’t look away,” he murmured.
Then he kissed her, and it was nothing like the desperate claim in the loft. This was deeper, slower, a thorough conquering. His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting of whiskey and resolve. She melted into it, her hands coming up to clutch at the hard muscles of his back. The world narrowed to the heat of his mouth, the scratch of his stubble, the solid wall of his body against hers.
She was only faintly aware of movement behind her until Jace’s hands slid around her waist from behind, his palms warm on her bare stomach. He nuzzled the side of her neck, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear. “Told you he was a goner,” he whispered, the words vibrating against her skin.
Nathan broke the kiss, his breath coming hard. He looked over her shoulder at Jace, and another of those silent communications passed between them. Nathan gave a sharp, almost imperceptible nod.
In one fluid motion, Nathan’s hands shifted from her face to her shoulders. He turned her, guiding her backward until her calves hit the edge of the bed. Then his grip tightened, and he pushed.
She fell backward onto the black linen, the down duvet swallowing her with a soft whump. Before she could process the movement, Nathan was over her, one knee planted between her legs, his hands pinning her shoulders to the mattress. The controlled man was gone. In his place was pure, raw need.
He stared down at her, his eyes dark pools in the city-lit gloom. “Mine,” he growled, the word ripped from somewhere deep and primal.
His hands went to the torn remains of Jace’s shirt. With a sharp tug, he ripped it open the rest of the way, the buttons pinging off the wooden floor. He peeled it from her body and tossed it aside, his gaze devouring the sight of her lying there in just her jeans.
From the foot of the bed, Jace watched, his eyes glowing with undisguised fascination. He crawled onto the mattress, moving with a panther’s grace. He settled between her thighs, his hands sliding up the inside of her legs, pushing her jeans and underwear down in one slow, deliberate motion. The cool air on her bare skin made her gasp.
Nathan leaned down, capturing her mouth again in a searing kiss, swallowing her sound. His hands were everywhere—cupping her breast, thumb circling her nipple, sliding down her stomach. He was marking her, claiming her with touch.
Jace’s hands hooked under her knees, gently pushing them apart. He bent his head, his breath a warm caress against her inner thigh. “Look at me,” he said, his voice a low, playful command against her skin.
She tore her mouth from Nathan’s, her head falling back to look down the length of her own body. Jace held her gaze, a wicked smile touching his lips. His blond hair gleamed in the low light.
“Look at me,” he repeated, softer now, “when he takes you.”
Before she could process the words, he lowered his mouth.
The contact was shocking. Not gentle. Not exploratory. Ruthlessly precise. His tongue found her clit and lavished it with focused, unwavering attention. Lilah cried out, her back arching off the bed, her hands flying to tangle in Nathan’s hair.
Nathan released her mouth, watching her face as Jace worked her with a master’s focus. A possessive, almost feral satisfaction lit his features. He shifted his weight, one hand fumbling with the button of his own jeans.
“Watch him,” Nathan ordered, his voice thick. He guided her head back toward Jace. “Watch what he does to you.”
She was panting, her vision starting to blur at the edges as Jace drove her higher, his fingers joining the devastating rhythm of his tongue. The coiling tension in her belly was immediate, intense, a stark contrast to the slow burn Nathan always inspired. It was too much. The dual sensations, the visual of Jace between her legs, the weight and heat of Nathan above her—it fractured her.
“Jace, I’m…” she gasped, the warning cut short as a wave of sensation crested and broke. Pleasure, sharp and bright, ripped through her. She trembled violently, a thin cry escaping her lips as the orgasm washed over her.
Jace gentled his touch, drawing out the last shudders with soft, lingering kisses on her inner thigh. He looked up at Nathan, his mouth glistening. “She’s ready.”
Nathan had shed his jeans. He loomed over her, gloriously bare, his body a landscape of tense muscle and old scars. He was fully erect, the evidence of his own need pressing against her hip. The look in his eyes was terrifying in its intensity.
He positioned himself, the broad head of his cock nudging against her entrance. He was watching her face, studying every flicker of emotion. He didn’t push forward. He waited.
“Nathan,” she breathed, her voice ragged.
That was all he needed. His name on her lips, spoken in that broken, wanting tone.
He drove into her in one slow, inexorable thrust, filling her completely. The sound he made was a raw, guttural thing, half-groan, half-sigh, as if he’d been holding his breath for years. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, his body trembling with the effort of his restraint.
For a moment, he didn’t move. He just held himself there, sheathed inside her, both of them adjusting to the shocking, perfect fit of it. Lilah wrapped her legs around his hips, anchoring him. She’d forgotten how he felt. Or maybe she’d never truly known. It was more than physical. It was a collision, a homecoming, a rupture.
Jace watched from beside them, his hand stroking her thigh, his own arousal evident. He seemed content, for the moment, to observe.
Nathan began to move. His rhythm was brutal, deep, each stroke a deliberate claiming. It wasn’t just sex. It was a conversation. An apology for every guarded moment, a promise for every withheld touch. She met him thrust for thrust, her nails digging into the hard muscles of his back.
“Look at me, Lilah,” he growled, lifting his head from her neck.
She forced her eyes open, meeting his stormy gaze. The connection was devastating. In his eyes, she saw the same drowning depth she felt. The fear, the need, the staggering vulnerability. His control was in tatters. He was laid bare.
Jace chose that moment to lean in. He kissed Nathan’s shoulder, then turned his head and captured Lilah’s mouth. The kiss was salty, sharing the taste of her own pleasure. It was shocking, intimate, a blatant blurring of every line.
Nathan’s pace faltered for a second, his eyes locking with Jace’s over her shoulder. Something unspoken, heated, passed between them. Then Nathan’s thrusts became harder, faster, spurred on by Jace’s presence, by the explicit shared reality of it.
Lilah was trapped in a vortex of sensation. Nathan’s deep, pounding rhythm. Jace’s mouth on hers, his hand cupping her breast. The neon city lights spinning beyond the window. She was fracturing, coming apart under the combined force of their attention.
“Nathan, I can’t…” she sobbed into Jace’s mouth.
“Yes, you can,” Nathan ground out, his breath hot against her ear. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
His words, the raw promise in them, broke the last dam inside her. A second, deeper orgasm tore through her, this one centered on the exquisite friction of him moving inside her. She shattered with a sharp cry, her body convulsing around his.
The feel of her clamping down on him was Nathan’s undoing. With a ragged shout that was almost a sob, he drove into her one last, deep time and stilled, his body rigid as his own release punched through him. He collapsed onto her, his full weight a welcome anchor, his face buried again in her hair. His breath came in hot, ragged gusts against her skin.
Silence descended, broken only by their heaving breaths. The city’ hum was a distant, mundane soundtrack. Nathan didn’t pull away. He lay heavy on her, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her curls.
After a long moment, Jace shifted. He stretched out on his side beside them, propping his head on his hand. He traced a finger along the line of sweat on Nathan’s spine, then looked at Lilah. A slow, easy smile spread across his face.
“Well,” he said, his voice light, teasing, “that escalated quickly.”
Nathan let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-exhausted groan. He didn’t lift his head. “Shut up, Jace.”
Lilah, her body humming and utterly spent, felt a bubble of hysterical laughter rise in her throat. It escaped as a weak giggle. The absurdity of it all—the ripped shirt, the two men, the way her world had just been permanently rearranged—crashed over her.
Jace’s smile softened. He leaned over and pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to her sweaty temple. “You good, Hart?”
She nodded, unable to form words. She was more than good. She was ruined, remade, terrified, and exultant.
Nathan finally stirred, rolling onto his side and pulling her with him, tucking her back against his chest. He arranged her limbs with a meticulous care that felt deeply at odds with the animalistic intensity of moments before. He pulled the black duvet over them both.
Jace slid off the bed. He padded naked across the polished floor, a pale gold figure in the neon dark. He picked up Nathan’s discarded Henley from the floor and pulled it on. It swamped him, hanging to his mid-thigh. “I’m gonna raid your scotch. You two look like you need a minute. Or sixty.”
He grabbed the bottle from the nightstand and left the room, closing the door with a soft click.
In the sudden quiet, Lilah was acutely aware of Nathan’s heartbeat against her back, steady and strong. His arm was a heavy band across her waist. She waited for the regret, the panic, to crash in.
It didn’t.
Instead, a profound, weary peace settled over her. She felt Nathan’s lips press against the crown of her head.
“I’m not sorry,” he whispered into her hair, the words so quiet they were almost inaudible.
She placed her hand over his where it rested on her stomach, lacing their fingers together. The knuckles were scraped, she noticed absently. From the doorframe in the loft, perhaps.
“Neither am I,” she whispered back.
It was the truth. And the terror of that truth, its sheer, irreversible magnitude, was the last thing she felt before the warmth of him and the deep silence of the room pulled her down into a dreamless sleep.