Craving my mom best friend

Chapter 4

Arielle pov

I didn't hear from Jace for two days.

No late-night knocks. No hungry stares across the kitchen. No presence lurking in the corners of my mind like a forbidden shadow.

And yet—I felt him everywhere.

His silence was louder than his words. It wrapped around me in guilt, ache, and confusion.

I told myself this was good. Space was good. Distance was safe.

But if that were true, why did my heart lurch every time the front door opened?

Why did I jump every time my phone buzzed, only to feel the sharp sting of disappointment when it wasn't him?

On the third morning, I found his hoodie on the back of the porch chair. The same one he wore the night we kissed.

I touched it.

And suddenly, I wasn't just touching fabric—I was remembering the press of his chest, the heat of his breath, the way his voice dropped when he whispered my name like a confession.

I pulled away like it burned.

This wasn't right.

I had to end it before someone else noticed the crack in my armor.

Before I did something stupid.

⸻

Jace

She thought ignoring me would fix it.

She thought silence would kill the craving.

But you can't starve what's already devouring you.

I wasn't mad at her for that guy—Dylan. I didn't blame her for running. I'd scared her. I'd crossed a line.

But the truth was... I'd do it again.

I'd cross every line in the world if it meant I could have her.

I watched her from the upstairs window that afternoon as she walked barefoot through the backyard, watering my mom's plants like she lived here permanently.

She looked peaceful.

But her shoulders were tense. Her lips pressed into a frown. Her mind somewhere far away.

I wanted to be the thought that pulled her back.

I needed her to feel just as wrecked as I did.

So I sent the message.

One picture.

Of her.

That night in the guesthouse.

Hair messy. Lips swollen. Eyes glazed from our kiss.

I'd taken it while she wasn't looking—seconds before I left.

It wasn't dirty. It wasn't threatening.

It was truth.

And under it, I wrote:

"Tell me that night didn't mean anything. I dare you."

⸻

Arielle

My hands shook when I saw the message.

I stared at the image for a full minute—heartbeat climbing, breath caught in my throat. I could still feel the heat of that night in my bones.

How the hell did he even take it?

More importantly... why did part of me like that he had?

I deleted the text.

Then I threw the phone across the bed and paced the room, jaw clenched, shame rising.

This was getting out of hand.

He wasn't backing off.

And worse—I didn't want him to.

But someone had to take control.

And it had to be me.

⸻

The house was quiet that night. Mom had gone to bed early. I waited an hour before I knocked softly on Jace's door.

His voice was rough when he said, "Come in."

He didn't expect it to be me.

He was sitting at the edge of the bed in just sweatpants, chest bare, muscles tense. That unreadable look in his eyes again—equal parts craving and control.

I closed the door behind me. Heart hammering.

"What the hell was that picture?" I asked, folding my arms tight over my chest.

He didn't look sorry. He looked... proud.

"I wanted you to remember."

"Don't do that again," I warned. "That's a boundary."

He stood. Slowly. Dangerously calm.

"You crossed the first boundary when you kissed me back."

"That was a mistake."

"Then why are you in my room?"

I couldn't answer.

He stepped closer, the heat from his bare skin radiating between us.

"You don't want me to stop, Arielle," he whispered. "You want me to make you forget what's right and wrong."

My legs trembled.

"You're a child," I said, but the words came out weak.

He chuckled, deep and dark.

"I've seen the way you look at me. There's nothing innocent about how you feel."

His hands didn't touch me—but the air between us felt like fingers brushing over my skin.

"Admit it," he said. "You came here hoping I'd pin you to the wall."

My throat dried.

"You came here hoping I'd remind you what it feels like to be wanted so badly, it hurts."

I stepped back.

He followed.

My back hit the wall. The same wall he whispered about nights ago.

He leaned in, breath hot at my ear.

"I won't touch you tonight," he said. "Not unless you ask."

I swallowed.

"But I need you to know something..."

I turned my face slightly—just enough to meet his eyes.

"What?" I whispered.

"If I find out you're seeing him again—Dylan—I'll make sure he never gets near you."

I blinked. "Is that a threat?"

"No," Jace said, smiling faintly. "That's a promise."