Page 101 of What Remains of Grace

The moment he kissed her, he knew this wasn’t a repeat of that night in the dark—when everything between them had felt raw and reckless.

Daylight changed things.

Daylight let him see her, really see her, and the unexpected vulnerability on her face hit him harder than anything that had happened in the shadows.

Every freckle.

Every tear track.

Every piece of her that had been fighting alone for too damn long.

Her hands framed his jaw, her mouth tender but frantic, her breath catching every time he pulled her closer. He pressed her against the wall of the entryway, not to trap her, but to steady her, because she was shaking and he was shaking and the world was shaking.

“Jenna,” he murmured, forehead against hers, breath uneven. “Slow down.”

“I can’t.” Her voice cracked. “I need you.”

That was it.

That was the moment his restraint snapped clean in half.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, one hand sliding into her hair, the other bracing against the wall beside her head, clinging to it like it was the only solid thing keeping him from losing complete control.

The sunlight poured across her face. Illuminating every inch of her.

She looked fragile and fierce and heartbreakingly beautiful. He hadn’t known daylight could make wanting someone feel like this.

Her hands slipped under his shirt, fingertips skating fire along his ribs. She made a hushed, involuntary sound that shot straight through him.

“Jenna—” His voice broke. “Jesus.”

She tugged him closer. “Don’t leave me.”

He didn’t know how much he’d been holding back until that moment.

Didn’t know how badly he wanted her until the fear in her voice tore him open.

He kissed her like she was made of glass, and he knew the cost of dropping her. She kissed him back like she was drowning and he was the lifeline.

His hands slid to her waist, gripping gently but firmly, lifting her just enough that she rose onto the tips of her toes. Her fingers clutched the back of his neck, her breath catching at the closeness.

He pressed his cheek to hers, voice low and wrecked. “Tell me to stop.”

She shook her head fast. “Don’t.”

He hooked an arm under her legs and lifted her feet off the ground. She gasped audibly at the ease with which he absorbed her weight, arms around his neck, her body molding against his like she had been made to fit there.

The feeling nearly undid him.

They moved together down the short hallway, her mouth still on his, her hands sliding over his shoulders for balance as sunlight warmed their skin and her heartbeat fluttered against him.

He reached the bedroom.

Paused for half a second, pulling away just long enough to really see her in his arms.

Daylight swept across her skin. Her hair was a dark halo.

Her eyes were wide, doe-like, shining. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.