Chapter 10

10

FELICITY

F elicity watched, entranced, as Jace moved around her small kitchen with the grace of a dancer. The hem of his shirt lifted slightly with each reach, hinting at the lean muscles underneath, and she felt a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the steam rising from the boiling pot on the stove. He had arrived at her flat with a buoyant air of confidence that seemed to replace the emptiness of the room with an electric charge.

"Hope you're hungry," Jace said, stirring the pasta into the red sauce with a wooden spoon. His voice was a low hum that vibrated through Felicity's body, awakening senses she had tried and failed to put in her unfinished novels. The scent of tomatoes and basil filled the space between them, weaving a tapestry of comfort and desire.

He turned to her, a half-smile playing on his lips, his eyes glinting with a secret promise. "I found this wine at a local artisan grocery." He uncorked the bottle with a soft pop, and poured the ruby liquid into two glasses with a precision that betrayed his familiarity with the ritual.

The wine rested on her tongue, a perfect blend of tart and sweet, like the unexpected plot twist in a well-told story. Felicity let out a sigh, feeling the tension in her shoulders unravel as Jace's presence enveloped her in a cocoon of possibility.

"Try this," he said, offering a fork twirled with pasta drenched in the thick, aromatic sauce. She accepted, their fingers brushing in a spark of contact that sent shivers down her spine. As she took the bite, the world narrowed to the sensation of rich, tangy flavor and the heat emanating from Jace's body mere inches away.

Their shared meal was a slow build of flavors and glances, each bite an unspoken word, each sip of wine a confession of yearning. The pasta was al dente, the sauce a masterpiece of rustic charm, all created by the hands of a man who seemed as comfortably at home in a rustic lodge as she imagined he would be in the kitchen of a five-star restaurant.

The soft clink of forks against plates harmonized with the lull of their voices as Felicity and Jace shared the meal he’d prepared. Aromatic steam from the pasta with red sauce rose between them, weaving an invisible thread that seemed to pull their conversation along effortlessly. The wine—a bold yet smooth blend—rested in their glasses, its deep red hue reflecting the dim glow of the candle that flickered gently on the table.

Felicity found herself leaning forward, captivated by Jace's animated recounting of his plans for the lodge. "I want it to be a haven," he said, eyes gleaming with a vision only he could see, "not just for tourists, but for locals, as well. A place where people can escape, surrounded by the wild beauty of the mountains."

As Jace's narrative unfolded, Felicity could easily imagine everything he described. Then, his voice softened and grew more intimate as he reached across the table for her hand. His touch sent a current of heat spiraling up her arm. "There's something else I want to share," he murmured, tracing the lines of her palm with his thumb.

"Today, I met the mayor. She knew my Uncle Peter quite well. They had a... complex relationship, but one full of respect." Felicity noted the wistful tilt to his lips, the way his eyes darkened with remembrance. "He was a mentor to her, in many ways."

This wasn’t something she’d written… was the story now writing itself?

Her heart ached at the tenderness woven into his words. "I'm sure he was an incredible man, to leave such a legacy behind."

Jace nodded, holding her gaze, letting the silence stretch between them—a bridge of understanding that spanned much deeper than mere words. He didn't let go of her hand, and she didn’t want him to. In the quietude, Felicity felt the walls she'd built around her heart begin to crumble, brick by fragile brick, under the tender press of his touch.

As he rinsed the final dish, he turned to her, his gaze lingering on her face as if memorizing every detail. The kitchen was clean, the remnants of their dinner nothing more than a pleasant memory, but the hunger in his eyes spoke of a different kind of appetite.

"Thank you for dinner," Felicity murmured, her voice almost lost in the charged silence that hummed between them.

"Thank you for having me," he replied, stepping closer until she could feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of his skin mixed with the herbs from the sauce. His proximity was overwhelming, yet she stood rooted to the spot, captured by the intensity in his gaze.

Their eyes held and the air seemed to thicken with anticipation. Felicity's thoughts scattered like loose pages in the wind. This was the moment stories were born from—a meeting of souls on the cusp of surrendering to the unknown.

Jace leaned down, his breath warm against her cheek, and whispered, "There's something about you, Felicity, that draws me like a moth to a flame."

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers, gentle at first, a question asked in the softest of touches. But as she responded, the kiss deepened, grew more insistent, and the world tilted on its axis. Felicity closed her eyes and let herself be pulled into the orbit of Jace Winterborne, where everything was passion, warmth, and the kind of connection that could inspire a thousand novels. If all she got with him was this one moment in time, she would remember it always and would dedicate her novels to Jace with no other indication of who or what he was to her.

Jace's grip on her hands remained firm and steadfast, a lifeline anchoring Felicity in the unexpected current of emotion that swirled between them. Her pulse fluttered like a caged bird against her skin, every beat an echo of the strange, burgeoning connection that seemed to pull her closer to him with an invisible thread.

With a gentle tug, Jace lessened the space between them, his eyes searching hers for a sign, any indication of her willingness. She responded, her lips parting ever so slightly, and the kiss deepened, igniting into a blaze of passion that swept through her like a wildfire.

Their mouths moved together in a dance as old as time, yet fresh and new in its discovery. The taste of red wine still lingered on Jace's lips, mingling with the essence of bold spices from the pasta, creating a heady blend that intoxicated Felicity more than any vintage could. His warmth enveloped her, the heat of his body seeping into her very bones and branding her with an urgent need she couldn't deny.

As they finally parted, gasping for air, the world seemed to realign itself, leaving a charged silence in its wake. Jace's eyes, those deep pools of green that reflected both the wildness of the valley and the depth of his soul, held her captive.

"Felicity," he breathed out, his voice thick with emotion, "I know it's crazy—we only met this morning. But there's something about you... It's like I've always known you." His fingers stroked her cheek, a touch feather-light yet laden with unspoken promises. "All my life, I've been searching, and now... I think I may have found what I never even knew I was looking for."

The confession hung in the air, a fragile truth laid bare. Here, in her cozy flat, with the remnants of dinner still lingering on the table and the soft glow of twilight caressing their skin, she felt the last vestiges of her resolve melt away. For the first time in what felt like eternity, Felicity allowed herself to lean into the vulnerability, to savor the sweet ache of desire, and to acknowledge the possibility that here in this reality that she found herself, she might have just discovered an unforeseen refuge in the tempest of the life she had left behind.

The silence that followed Jace's confession was thick with the weight of unspoken questions and burgeoning desire. Felicity's heart thrummed a wild rhythm, her mind teetering on the precipice of reason and want. She stood, her movements deliberate yet fluid as she drew him towards her bedroom, as if drawn by an invisible thread woven through the charged air between them. With each step toward her bed, she shed layers of doubt, leaving them behind like fallen leaves.

Her bedroom welcomed them with its muted light and the scent of lavender that always lingered in the soft sheets. The large cast iron bed, a silent witness to her solitary nights, now beckoned with a promise of shared warmth and whispered secrets.

Jace followed her lead, his presence a grounding force amidst the storm of emotions threatening to sweep Felicity away. He reached for the hem of her sweater, his fingers brushing against her skin with reverence. As he undressed her, each garment discarded was a testament to the trust she vested in him—a trust that felt as ancient as the stars, yet as new and fragile as the first bloom of spring.

His lips traced the path of newly revealed skin, igniting fires along her collarbone, down the valley of her chest, and across the curve of her waist. Every kiss was a wordless vow, every touch a chapter in the novel of their entwined fates. She was naked before him, bare in more ways than one, her vulnerability cloaked only in the soft glow that danced across her skin.

Jace guided her with gentle hands to lie upon the bed, the antique quilt beneath her whispering tales of yesteryear. She watched, a mixture of wonder and anticipation swirling within her, as he shed his own clothes with a quiet confidence. His body, a landscape of strength and scars, was a map she yearned to explore, to know as well as she knew her favorite passages from beloved books.

As he joined her in the bed, the world outside faded into obscurity. There was nothing but Jace’s body next to hers, speaking the language of longing and connection. In this intimate space, time was a forgotten concept, and all that mattered was the here and now—her heart seemed to beat in unison with his as she began to embark on a journey she had never anticipated but had silently craved.

Jace's touch was both a question and an answer, his fingers tracing the contours of Felicity's body with reverence and intent. His lips found her breast, suckling gently, drawing a gasp from deep within her. She felt the world narrowing to the sensation of his mouth, warm and insistent, sending ripples of pleasure through her.

"Feel," he murmured against her skin, a command that was both tender and compelling. Felicity surrendered to the sensation, letting go of the words that often crowded her thoughts, allowing herself to be immersed in the tactile prose Jace wrote upon her flesh.

Drifting on the edge of consciousness, she was acutely aware of every brush of his lips, every caress of his tongue as it ventured lower, worshipping at the altar of her femininity. The air itself seemed charged with electricity, each breath a static whisper across her heated skin.

The first wave of climax caught her by surprise, a powerful concerto orchestrated by Jace's knowing hands and mouth. Her body sang out, muscles clenching in sweet release, her mind awash in a sea of blissful euphoria.

As her tremors subsided, Jace reached over to where his jeans lay discarded, retrieving a small foil packet. A coy smile played on Felicity's lips as she arched her brow in a teasing inquiry.

"What can I tell you? Since meeting you," Jace replied, his eyes sparkling with mirth and something deeper, "I've discovered I'm quite the optimist." His voice was rich with promise, a sonnet that spoke of hope and new beginnings.

With a practiced ease born from a life of adapting to the unexpected, Jace rolled the condom down his length, his movements deliberate and sure. There was a weight to his gaze, heavy with intent and desire as he positioned himself over Felicity, shielding her with his body. The heat from his skin melded with hers, an invisible cloak that enveloped them in a bubble where only they existed.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice a tender caress against the shell of her ear, warm breath sending shivers down her spine. It wasn't just the question but the reverence in his tone, as if her consent were sacred, the key to unlocking this shared moment between them.

"More than I've ever been," Felicity replied, her voice a soft echo of conviction. She marveled at the strength she heard in her own words—a strength she attributed to the man whose emerald eyes promised her the world in a glance.

Jace hesitated for just a heartbeat longer, seeking confirmation in her eyes, finding it in the unwavering trust shining back at him. Then, with a gentle but insistent thrust, he joined their bodies, filling her in a way that went beyond the physical. A gasp escaped her lips, not from pain or surprise, but from the sheer rightness of it.

Their lovemaking was a passionate dance, a give and take that spoke volumes of the connection sparking between them. Each movement was a stroke of a pen on the parchment of their skin, writing a story that only they could understand. Jace's hips moved in a rhythm as ancient as time, each surge forward met by a welcoming arch from Felicity's body.

Breathless, Felicity clung to Jace, her fingers tracing the muscles of his back that bunched and relaxed with every motion. In his arms, she discovered a sense of security that she had never known, a confidence that bloomed like a flower touched by the first rays of dawn. The sensation of being desired, cherished, and respected was more intoxicating than any wine, more inspiring than the most poignant prose.

As they moved together, lost in the euphoria of their union, Felicity realized that this was what she had been searching for—not just in her writing but in the depths of her soul. With Jace, she felt seen, understood, and accepted. Her fears and doubts dissipated like mist in the warmth of their combined passion, leaving only clarity and the burgeoning glow of something that might just be love.

.

Their bodies moved with a primal drumbeat, the sound of hearts racing and skin slick with desire. Jace's movements grew more fervent, his hands roaming over Felicity's curves with a passion that spoke of a hunger deeper than the flesh. She arched beneath him, her breath coming in short gasps as she clung to the solid reality of his body.

"Jace," Felicity moaned, her voice barely above a whisper but laden with all the intensity of the storm they were navigating together. Her world narrowed to the heat of his skin against hers, the strength of his arms enveloping her, and the relentless pursuit of pleasure that drove him deeper.

With every thrust, Jace seemed to reach parts of her long since abandoned, awakening a fiery need that spiraled towards an explosive crescendo. A powerful surge of emotion swelled within her, a connection that was as much soul-deep as it was physical.

Their rhythm intensified, the crescendo of their desires building toward an inevitable peak. Jace's movements became more purposeful, his grasp firmer, as if he was determined to anchor her to the earth even as they soared towards the heavens. And when the wave broke over her, she felt Jace obtain his own release.

And when she finally shattered in his arms, it was with a shared climax that resonated through every fiber of her being, leaving her entwined in a bond that felt like it might transcend time and reality itself. She trembled in his arms, holding onto him as if nothing else mattered, as if she had truly found a home within his embrace

In the stillness that followed, their breathing slowed and their sweat cooled, yet the profound intimacy lingered, wrapping around them like the softest quilt.

Before the moon had fully set, the early morning light crept into the room, casting a pale glow across the tangled sheets. With quiet care, Jace extricated himself from Felicity's embrace, his movements gentle so as to not disturb her peace. He stood, muscles stretching languidly, and pulled on his jeans with a silent grace that betrayed his reluctance to leave.

Felicity stirred, her eyes blinking open to find his green ones watching her with a warmth that made her chest tighten. "You don't have to go," she said, her voice husky with sleep and the remnants of passion.

Jace smiled softly, a bittersweet edge to the curve of his lips. "I don't want people talking about you taking up with the new kid in town," he murmured, leaning down to brush a kiss on her forehead. "Christmas Valley's eyes are kind, but they see everything."

She watched him pull his flannel shirt over his head, the fabric settling on his broad shoulders. As the door closed behind him, the gentle click echoed in the quiet room, and Felicity lay back against the pillows, her mind a whirlwind of emotion.

Questions tumbled through her mind, each one echoing with the doubts she'd harbored about herself and her writing. Had she crafted characters that could truly capture the complexities of love? Or had she been holding back, afraid to pour her own longing for connection onto the page?

As the first rays of dawn streaked the sky, Felicity realized that Jace—charismatic, adventurous, and unexpectedly tender—had not only unlocked her heart but might just have given her the key to the story she was born if not to write, then maybe to live.