Silently, she followed him to the window that sat off to the side of the door, and they both pressed their faces to the glass, their hands cupped around their eyes so they could peer inside.
It was like looking into the set of a movie. Antique furniture and ornate rugs and a staircase that may as well have been taken right out of Gone with the Wind.
Not that it was her favorite book and movie, or anything.
“Must be nice,” Jace suddenly whispered, an edge of that hostility winding back into his tone as he peeled himself away from the window.
Faith did the same, squinting as she peered at him through the rays of sun that slanted onto the porch, fingers of light that rustled through his tawny hair. “What must be nice?”
“Come on, Faith, look at all that stuff. And someone just left it. Like they have too much to even give a shit that they left all of this here. Hardly seems fair, does it?”
She blinked at him, unable to keep up with his moods. They seemed to shift as quickly as the swing of the pendulum on the massive grandfather clock that rested against the far wall inside.
Her voice was soft but strained with emphasis. “I don’t know anything about these people, Jace. I don’t know how hard they work or what they were given or what their situations are. Just like I don’t know all that much about your situation, but I’m not gonna make assumptions based on that, either.”
He laughed.
A biting sound that pinched her skin.
“Oh, give it a rest, Faith. You know all you need to know about me.”
He stepped back, the planks groaning beneath him, his arms stretched out to the sides as if he were daring her to look inside him.
He was wearing a black-collared shirt, the same kind every employee at the grocery store had to wear.
But his black pants?
She could see where they’d been patched and mended and were a smidge too short for his long legs, and the soles of his black shoes were peeling up at the toes.
His clothes were a bit tattered.
His hair a bit too long.
But none of those things were what she saw.
The only thing she could recognize was a face that was far too striking.
“The only thing I know is I can’t stop looking at you. Can’t stop thinking about you.” Her words scraped from her throat like a confession.
Instantly, she wished she could take them back because they exposed her in a way that she wished they wouldn’t.
Because his expression almost looked disgusted . . . almost horrified by what she had said.
Her gaze fell away, to the ground at the base of the steps. “God, I’m stupid.”
Her knees wobbled when his fingers were suddenly on her chin, urging her to look back his way. Those copper eyes searched hers, squinting as they hunted her face, looking for a secret she didn’t know she possessed.
Her mouth went dry, and her heart hammered in the space between them.
So hard.
So fast.
She could hardly breathe.
“Stupid? What you are is innocent and sweet. So pretty that I can’t even think straight. You are beauty looking back at me.”
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as a swarm of butterflies breached her stomach and flitted through her entire body. Tickling beneath the surface of her skin.
His face pinched. “You’re a good girl, Faith. I can tell.”
Embarrassment had her teeth clamping down painfully on her bottom lip. What he meant was her inexperience was showing, seeping through her flesh the same way those butterflies that were climbing right through did.
She really was stupid.
“Don’t do that,” he softly chided. His thumb moved to her lip that was tucked between her teeth, setting it free.
The skin tingled from his touch.
“Do what?” she whispered, her eyes wide and unsure.
“Make me want to kiss you.”
Faith moaned.
Just from him saying it.
From the feeling that gripped her everywhere, something heavy at her heart and throbbing at her center.
“Fuck,” he said, inhaling sharply, as if he’d felt it.
Her reaction to him.
She couldn’t stop it.
The rush of need that flooded her senses.
She couldn’t stop the way she wanted to lean forward and fall right inside.
Get lost in this boy.
“Faith,” he muttered. A warning and a question. Half a second later, those big hands landed on her neck, gliding up to tangle in her hair.
She gasped at the onslaught of sensation brought on by his touch.
But she wasn’t prepared. She wasn’t even close to being prepared for the way she would feel when his mouth slanted over hers.
His lips rough and smooth as they pressed against hers.
Slowly at first.
Giving and taking.
Testing and tasting.
Those butterflies shivered.
He edged her back until she was pinned against the wall of the house.
He pressed himself against her as he deepened the kiss, and she could feel him harden, every inch, his penis pressing against her belly.