“Good girl,” he murmured, voice low and soothing, like he was praising a child. He closed the distance in two steps, his hands gentle on my hips at first, thumbs stroking small circles over my hipbones. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” His touch was feather-light, almost tender, but the way his fingers dug in just a fraction told me he could turn rough any second.

“Jace… please,” I whispered, my voice breaking. Tears pricked my eyes again, but I blinked them back. “We don’t ...