Chapter 34
Ciel
I look at Jack, who's covering his face on the floor, and I feel shy too now.
I never make the first move.
But I did this time. I had to.
His reaction throws me off though—this is Jack, smug alpha, always so cocky, always teasing Nolan, always so sure of himself. And now? He's literally curled on the floor like a teenager hiding from the world.
Did I break him?
"Jack?" I whisper, inching closer, biting the inside of my cheek.
He peeks through his fingers like a kid caught stealing cookies. His ears are red. Red. I didn't even know men like him could blush.
"I, uh…" He clears his throat, still hiding half his face.
"I wasn't ready for that."
My stomach flips. "You didn't like it?"
His hands shoot down so fast I nearly laugh. "What? No! I—" He sits up, flustered, hair sticking out in all directions.
"I liked it. Too much. That's the problem."
Oh.
Heat blooms in my chest. I fiddle with the hem of my shirt, feeling ridiculously exposed. "So… I didn't mess up?"
Jack groans, dragging a hand down his face like he's in actual pain.
"Ciel, you could kiss me for the rest of my life and I'd still feel like I wasn't ready."
…That's probably the cheesiest thing I've ever heard. And yet my heart stutters.
"Actually." He sits up straighter, closer now.
"What?" I ask, voice thin.
"I wouldn't mind doing it again."
My heart races.
"Ciel." His voice is low, careful, grounding. "Can I kiss you?"
The world holds its breath.
I nod.
Jack shifts closer, one hand rising—slow, deliberate, like he's approaching a wild creature that might bolt. His fingers brush my cheek. I should flinch. I always do. But his touch is steady, warm, and I lean into it before I even realize.
His hand cups the back of my neck.
He studies me one last time, like he's making absolutely sure, and then—
Our mouths meet.
I gasp softly into it, my hands gripping his shirt like a lifeline. His other arm comes around me, not caging, not demanding—just holding.
His hand tightens on my neck, and his kiss gets more desperate but not desperate—urgent, but controlled.
My knees feel weak, and thank the stars I'm already on the floor. I'm not some inexperienced omega. I've been through a lot. I've had mouths on me before, hands on me before. But I swear, this is life-changing. The best kiss of my life.
This isn't like the fumbling, hungry alphas who wanted nothing but my body. This isn't like submission or survival.
This is different.
It's Jack.
He kisses me like I matter. And like he wants me at the same time.
I breathe against his lips, and he swallows the sound, pulling back only enough to murmur against my mouth, "Still okay?"
"Yes." My voice trembles, but it's the truest yes I've ever spoken.
The next kiss is hungry—true to an alpha—and I feel so, so, so—
I can't help but moan.
He groans in return, his hand sliding into my hair, tugging me closer. I'm like a lone boat in a storm, tossed but unwilling to anchor.
When he finally pulls back, I chase him without meaning to, my lips brushing his again before I stop myself. He kisses me back once more—quick, sure, catching me with a nip of my lip before finally pulling away.
I stare at him, wide-eyed, breathless.
He's smiling.
And my world tilts on its axis.
I think—no, I know—I'll never be the same again.
***
Nolan
I watch as Ciel once again keeps pouring the juice, overflowing his cup until the sticky liquid spills over the rim and dribbles onto the counter.
"Okay, that's enough," I say, plucking the carton out of his hand before he floods the kitchen.
"Oh. Sorry," he murmurs, blinking like he's just woken up from a dream.
I grab a paper towel and mop up the spill, then turn back to him. He's standing there, still half gone, eyes unfocused, lips faintly pinker than usual.
My stomach twists.
I hand him the cup, then take his elbow. "Come on."
He blinks at me. "Where—"
"To the room." My voice is firmer than I intend, but I don't stop. I guide him down the hall, close the door behind us, and turn the lock with a soft click.
He stiffens slightly, like he knows what's coming.
"So what is it?" I ask, stepping closer, cornering him without meaning to—but maybe I do mean to.
"What?" he says, voice light, evasive, avoiding my eyes.
"Ciel." I narrow my gaze. "You've been dazed all afternoon. Staring into space. Smiling at nothing. What happened?"
He shifts, fiddling with the hem of his shirt—his tell. Always his tell.
"Nothing," he mutters. "I'm just thinking about things."
I narrow my eyes even further, scanning him.
His cheeks are flushed. His pupils too wide. His mouth—
Then I see it.
"Wait. What's that?" I point at his lip.
He flinches, instantly covering his mouth with his hand. "Nothing," he says too quickly, eyes darting away.
"Ciel." My tone sharpens.
He tries to walk past me. "Probably a bug bite," he throws over his shoulder, like that explains everything.
I move, blocking his path. My chest tightens. My heart beats too fast.
"Don't lie to me," I say.
He freezes, hand still pressed against his mouth. His eyes flick everywhere but at me—the window, the floor, the wardrobe. Anywhere but me.
And that's answer enough.