Page 88 of The Fate Factor

Jamie groans, burying his face in my neck. His hands haven’t stopped moving over my skin, making a circuit of my ribs, my hips, my thighs. “Noel, fuck. I…”

“Whatever you want,” I whisper.

I feel the moment he decides, even before he takes it. Before he rolls off of me, seating himself at the edge of the bed and scooping me into his lap. This is how we were when his mouth first touched mine, the way I saw us on the porch. Another perfect fit. It lessens our height difference, lets me stare directly into those cream soda eyes and lose myself while our tongues touch, and teeth press into my bottom lip. This place, this latest layer in our story peeled away is an accelerant to the fire in me that lights so easily for him. A fire that, before I came here, I wasn’t sure I possessed.

Jamie pushes the robe from my shoulders, and it drops to the floor behind me. His hands finally settle on my ass, tucking me as tightly to him as possible. “I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he says, rocking his hips slowly until my head falls back in pleasure.

“Me too.”

“I’ve been half hard for hours, thinking about it. So unprofessional.”

I snort. “Good thing I like you better wild.”

He likes that, lids lowering in satisfaction as he slides a hand between us, curling his fingers inside me. My hips tilt toward his palm, and I cuff his wrist, holding it there while I work myself against him. I’m greedy and indulgent, running my other hand over his tight abs, dipping into his boxers and notching my knuckle into the V cut of his waist.

“Look at you, grinding all over my hand like that. I think that halo’s broken for good, baby.”

My laugh is pulled tight, cut off by the building of pleasure between my legs. Iamgrinding all over his hand and I don’t care because his fingers are heaven, slow and patient and determined. I push up higher, giving him room to go deeper, and I break so quickly, so violently that I’m dizzy from it. I fall into his chest, dissolving into a pile of bones and stardust as he falls backward onto the mattress and takes me with him.

“That’s exactly what I wanted,” he says, looking as orgasm drunk as I am. “God, I love watching you come.” A blush spreads over already burning skin when I feel him pressed into my stomach because that feeling is entirely mutual, and it’s what I want next.

I wrap my hand around him, and we both hiss, and then he’s rolling over me. I adjust my grip, and he pushes into my fist, thrusting, taking, eyes glossy and half-lidded.

He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine. “From that first night, Noe,” he says against my mouth. “I think I… I always hoped that you and I were part of the deal.”

I nod frantically, shivering with what he’s said. “Me too.” I had proof we were and I still had to make myself believe it. Jamie’s unbridled hope is exactly what makes him so beautiful to me.

I release him, and he palms the back of my thigh, putting me exactly where he needs me. Then with one rough thrust, he’s pushing inside, taking what I said he could have. It’s hard and fast, and not at all romantic the way I’d half assumed a moment captured in a life-changing vision might be. It’s perfect, and I think that’s just it. The visions didn’t need to show me something I could already imagine for myself. They needed to show me something I didn’t even know existed.

I think of that night on the roof, the clench of my thighs when our eyes met. My surprise at it. The jealous stab when Beccahad claimed him from a moment I’d stupidly thought was ours. Except it wasn’t stupid because look at us now, here.

I tuck my chin to my chest, watching the way his hips grind against me. Long, indulgent strokes wringing out every last bit of pleasure.

Jamie’s next breath is a muttered curse, and we’re so close. So close that when I find his eyes again, I see myself reflected in his irises, like we’ve melted completely into each other. Like every past moment we’ve lived has been for this future.

I wake before Jamie. He’s shirtless beside me, and as usual, flopped onto his belly, cheeks red from sleeping in this too-warm embrace we’re sharing. His arm is the most delicious dead weight over my hip and the sun is streaming through the window at our feet.

I’m even laying the same way I saw myself, cheek in the pillow, half turned toward him. It’s eerie and undeniable, and one thing’s for sure: I have to tell him about the visions. This train is going too fast for me to hold on by myself.

He stirs behind me, the heat of his yawn fanning over my shoulder. I have to force myself not to burst out in hysterics when his hand sweeps my hair aside, running over my shoulder and down under the blanket, just like I knew he would.

The rest is a surprise, though, because this is where the vision ended.

“Hey,” he whispers in my ear. “Fancy meeting you here.”

I’m swept by a full-body shiver because—gah—I know he’s being cute, beingJamiebut what a thing to say.

I turn in his arms, tipping my chin to see his sleepy eyes. “Did you forget you packed me?”

He grins. “Definitely not. I don’t think I’ll go anywhere without you from now on. You’re my favorite thing.”

I swoon inwardly. He’s so casually declarative.

He stretches an arm over his head, still grinning. “Hope you slept okay. I’m fidgety in an unfamiliar bed.”

“I didn’t feel a thing,” I lie, and he pinches my side. “Hey, Jamie?”

“Mmm.”

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