I opened my mouth, and he seized me around the waist and grappled us both down onto the bed, landing so hard on top of me that the bed creaked and bounced.
He'd managed to get between my legs, and his boxer-clad hips pressed into my naked inner thighs. I wriggled. He moved his hips, and his boxer-clad cock nudged behind my balls.
I gasped up at him, so indignant I couldn't even fight back.
"Too soon with the water bottle jokes?" He was grinning.
"Landon's right, Jace, you are a fucking asshole," I spat.
His grin faded away, replaced with a thoughtful look that meant trouble. "I thought it was the mate part of the mug that had you so pissed."
I pushed on his chest. As usual, it was like pushing on a warm, perfectly muscled brick wall. My fingers lingered a little before I yanked them away like they'd been burned.
Traitors.
"I'm not pissed. I'm…" Inarticulate? Confused? Either would've worked. Trying desperately not to believe in something that seemed impossible?
That too.
