Page 121 of The Tribrid Princess and the Taste of Chaos
“I’m not,” I lie as I take a spoonful of ice cream, cracking my poor little plastic spoon. Jayce chuckles as he offers me his, and I realise he’s finished with his ice cream. I take it with a pout, swirling the spoon around my melting ice cream.
He chuckles low, the sound curling around me like smoke, tossing his pot and my broken spoon into a nearby bin.
“That was nothing,” he says, his voice suddenly heavier, quieter, like a secret being unwrapped. “Just a quick fuck. That’s all they ever were.”
I try not to imagine them. All the girls who’ve had him. His mouth. His hands. His body.
“So, what changed?” I ask, my voice barely audible. My heart is thudding, my chest is tight, my skin burning under his gaze.
“You,” he says simply, his eyes locking with mine. “You were put so close to me, I can’t stay away anymore. I know I’m not your first, but I swear I’m going to be your now, your next and your last. If you’ll let me.”
The words hit me like lightning, sudden and devastatingly beautiful.
I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I want him. The way he looks at me is like I’m the only thing he sees. The way his voice turns to velvet when he says my name.
“I want that,” I whisper, turning toward him, letting my fingers rest lightly against his chest. His heart beats beneath them, strong and steady, grounding me in this moment that feels too good to be real.
He doesn’t answer with words. He cups my face with one hand, his thumb brushing along my cheek as if memorising the shape of me, his other hand sliding around my waist. Then his lips touch mine, cool from the ice cream, but his kiss is nothing but hot.
He tastes me slowly, thoroughly, like he’s savouring every second. I feel the tingles through my entire body, my knees weaken, and he wraps his arm tighter around my waist, pulling me in until there’s no space left between us. He’s supporting me entirely as if he knows I’ll collapse if he lets go.
He runs his tongue softly against my lips, seeking entrance, and I part my lips for him, soft and willing, and he takes full advantage.
His tongue slips into my mouth, caressing mine, slow at first, tasting me like he’s savouring me thoroughly. But then something shifts, and he’s holding me with a new kind of dominance. His fingers tighten around my waist, dragging me in with a roughness that makes my breath catch. He kisses me firmly, like he owns me. Like he’s waited far too long, so that he can no longer be patient.
I moan softly, unable to stop myself, as I kiss him back. Gods, the way he kisses…
A low, satisfied sound rumbles from his throat, and he tilts his head, changing the angle as if needing me closer, taking me deeper. His mouth moves possessively, sucking on my tongue, nibbling and sucking on my lips, consuming me.
I feel as if a live wire is jolting through me. When he pulls back, it’s only just enough to speak, his breath hot against my lips.
“Cherries, you taste of cherries,” he murmurs huskily, almost to himself. His eyes are fire and ice all at once. “Fuck.”
He stares at me like I’m the most addictive thing he’s ever tasted. Then he kisses me again, harder, rougher, deeper.
His hand threads into my hair, tugging slightly, adjusting to the angle where he wants me. I take the chance and slip my tongue into his mouth. He tastes so good, and I whimper when he sucks on my tongue. My core is aching with need.
And when he groans into my mouth, it vibrates through every part of me.
“Jayce... Gods…” I gasp for air, clinging to him as he forces himself to break the kiss. Pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. His lips are swollen, and I know mine are probably the same. His voice drops into something low, dangerous and seductive.
“Don’t say my name like that, Darling,” he rasps. “Unless you’re ready to scream it.”
My heart slams against my ribs. I can’t breathe. I don’t want to. I want him. All of him.
He leans in again, brushing his lips over mine like a tease, then slips his tongue into my mouth with slow, devastating precision. There’s no rush in him, no uncertainty. Just a calm, dangerous confidence that makes me melt and burn all at once.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers, even though he knows I won’t.
I shake my head, lips trembling. “Don’t.”
His mouth curves into a wicked smirk against mine.
“Good, because I didn’t plan to.”
Then he kisses me again, and I’m gone. I think I drop my ice cream, locking both arms around his neck, and he lifts me up effortlessly. Then I’m lost in the heat, the taste, the tension that coils tighter and tighter with every breath.
The world disappears from around us. It’s only him. His hands. His mouth. The way he takes his time, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
