“Why on earth would the shiny knight care either way?” Rowan said in a sweetly naive tone, batting his eyelashes at us both.
“Dud no speak of these things. These things stay in Dud’s three walls.”
“Three walls?” Rowan asked.
Dud shrugged slowly. “Is cave.” And with that, Jason zipped his mouth, but it was too late, for theshiny knight had already pulled his fist all the way back.
To be fair, my fist hurt more than Jason’s shoulder after I’d punched him. “Crap. That’s all muscle,” I murmured to myself.
“Mosquito bite Dud,” he said, shrugging, while Rowan cackled on the sofa. “Dud carry shiny knight.”
“What? No. No!” Jason moved his arms behind me in a heartbeat, one landing on my upper back and the other sweeping my feet off the floor until I was literally in his arms.
He carried me to the bottom of the stairs while Rowan howled. “The stories. They write themselves.”
I wiggled to get free, but Jason only held me tighter and carried me all the way up the stairs and to the door of my room. Then, as he dropped me gently back on the floor, he grinned and pinned me against it. “I would have carried you in, but…the symbolism is too much.”
“I wish I could punch you again,” I said, shaking the lingering pain out of my hand.
The door closed behind us with a soft, final click, and the sound seemed to flip something feral and electric inside my chest.
Jason didn’t give me time to think.
His hands were on me immediately, firm and sure, one braced beside my head, the other settling at my waist as he backed me into the door. My shoulder blades hit the wood, breath knocking out of me in astartled laugh that barely made it past my lips before his mouth found mine.
The kiss wasn’t careful.
It was hungry and sudden, like we’d both been holding our breath since the gym and could finally let go. His mouth opened against mine without hesitation, heat and pressure and intent, and I made a sound I didn’t recognize as my own. My hands came up on instinct, grabbing at his shoulders, fingers digging into muscle through bare skin.
He kissed like he meant it. Like he wasn’t second-guessing a single thing.
I melted into it, heart racing, the world narrowing to the press of his body and the way his mouth moved against mine. He tasted like mint and sweat and something warm and familiar that made my knees weak. I tipped my head back without meaning to, giving him more, and he followed immediately, deepening the kiss with a low sound that vibrated straight through my chest.
My brain tried to catch up. It failed.
Everything felt too big and too fast and exactly right. His hip pressed between my legs, not subtle, not restrained, and I gasped into his mouth. He swallowed the sound like he’d been waiting for it, kissing me harder, crowding me against the door until there was nowhere else to go.
His hand slid from my waist to my lower back, palm flat, holding me there. Grounding me. Claiming space. The other stayed braced above my head, cagingme in without ever making me feel trapped. It was overwhelming in the best possible way.
I kissed him back just as fiercely, weeks of wanting and wondering pouring out of me all at once. I nipped at his lower lip without thinking. He groaned softly and answered by angling his mouth, tongue brushing mine in a slow, deliberate stroke that sent heat flaring low in my belly.
“Jason,” I breathed, more a warning than a plea.
He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, both of us panting. His eyes were dark, blown wide, fixed on my mouth like he was deciding whether to devour me again.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice rough.
I didn’t. I couldn’t.
I kissed him again instead, slower this time, deeper, savoring the way he responded immediately, like he’d been wound too tight to resist. His hand flexed at my back, fingers spreading, and I felt it everywhere. My skin buzzed. My pulse pounded in my ears.
We kissed like that for a long moment, messy and uncoordinated and desperate, until my lips were swollen and my lungs burned. When he finally pulled away, just a fraction, I chased him without thinking, still dizzy with want.
He laughed softly against my mouth, a breath of sound that made my chest ache.
“Yeah,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along my jaw, tender and devastating after everything else. “That’s about how I feel, too.”
I pressed my forehead back against the door, eyes closed, trying to remember how to breathe. My whole body felt lit up, alive in a way that was almost frightening.