“Aleera,” Jace says, threading his fingers into my hair and gently tilting back my head. Holding me just like that, gaze on the ceiling, his breath in my ear. “I don’t want to make you agree to anything against your will. How do I make you mine? How do I make you need to be mine?”
“You can’t.”
He growls against my ear, that thick part of him pulsing between the split of my bottom. “Explain.”
Dare I? Open up to this man like that? In surrendering to him physically (mostly) I’ve already given up so much ground. Telling him what’s in my heart seems like a risk. What if he gains ground there, too?
That said, I can’t help but be grateful that he wants to listen. That he postponed the signing of an eight-figure contract to have this discussion when he probably could have strong-armed me into
