Touch Me If You Dare

I knew things were changing the second he looked at me across the dining hall.

Jace Carter—smirking, relaxed, eyes burning right through me. He sat with two friends from the swim team, laughing at something one of them said, while I sat across the room alone, pretending to study.

But he didn’t look away.

Not once.

Not even when one of his teammates nudged him and made a joke I couldn’t hear. Jace just leaned back, let his arm drape over the back of the bench, and stared straight at me—like I was the only person in the world.

Like I was already his.

And maybe… I was.

---

Later, in our room, I couldn’t focus.

My sketchpad sat open in my lap, half-drawn lines bleeding into each other. Jace walked out of the bathroom shirtless again, towel low on his hips, drops of water gliding down the slope of his chest. He knew what he was doing. He always knew.

“Working on something?” he asked, voice low, thick with that post-shower rasp that curled around my neck like smoke.

I cleared my throat. “Just sketching.”

He walked over, leaned down slightly to peek at my drawing.

It was him—again. His jawline. His shoulders. The smirk that refused to leave me alone.

He didn’t say anything right away.

Then: “You’re obsessed with me.”

I snorted. “I draw what I see.”

“And you see me.”

He dropped the towel from his waist and slid into a pair of loose joggers, not bothering with underwear. My throat closed up. His back was to me, but I could see everything. The curve of his spine. The dip where his hips met muscle. My entire body tensed.

He turned, slowly, catching the way my gaze dropped before I could stop it.

“Rule nine,” he said, stepping closer. “If you stare at something for more than five seconds, you’re allowed to touch it.”

My heart slammed. “That’s not a real rule.”

He shrugged. “It is now.”

He sat beside me on the bed, one knee pressing into mine. His scent was stronger up close—clean, spicy, masculine in a way that made my pulse thunder.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I won’t force you.”

He reached out, gently brushed his thumb across my cheekbone.

“But you want to,” he whispered. “Don’t you?”

I didn’t move.

Didn’t nod.

Didn’t pull away.

He leaned closer, lips barely grazing my jaw. Not a kiss. Not yet. Just heat.

“You think too much, Luca.”

“I have to,” I breathed.

“Why?”

“Because if I don’t… I’ll do something I can’t take back.”

His hand slid from my cheek to my neck, fingertips trailing my pulse. “Maybe I want you to.”

Silence stretched between us.

I could feel my entire body leaning into him, helpless and hungry.

Then he stood. “I’m heading to a party.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Some off-campus thing. Want to come?”

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Might be fun. Could loosen you up.”

“I’m fine here.”

He grabbed a shirt from the back of the chair, tugged it on over his bare chest.

“You know…” he said slowly, “you say no a lot for someone who wants to say yes.”

I didn’t answer.

He winked at me and walked out.

And just like that—he took the air with him.

---

The hours crawled.

I paced. Sketched. Poured myself into drawings I couldn’t finish.

And when I finally collapsed into bed, the pillow still smelled like him.

---

I woke up to the door creaking open.

It was past midnight.

Jace slipped in, shirt unbuttoned, cheeks flushed with just a hint of sweat. His hair was tousled, lips a little swollen. He looked like temptation made flesh.

“Party was wild,” he muttered, kicking off his shoes.

I sat up. “You’re drunk.”

“Not really.” He pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside. “Just buzzed.”

He walked over to the bed—my side of the bed—and sat down beside me.

I could smell beer. Sweat. And something sweeter underneath.

His eyes flicked to mine. “Jealous?”

My pulse skipped. “Of what?”

He smirked. “Didn’t kiss anyone, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Liar.”

He reached out and touched my wrist—barely. Just enough to make the hairs on my arm rise.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

I nodded.

“Why haven’t you kissed me back?”

I froze.

“Is it me?” he asked, voice quieter now. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” I whispered. “It’s not you.”

“Then what?”

I looked down. “I don’t know how.”

His fingers tightened on my wrist—just for a second. “Luca…”

“I’ve never… I mean, I want to. But it’s like… if I do, everything changes.”

“It already has,” he said.

Silence.

Then he leaned in, slow, careful, until our lips were almost touching.

“I’ll let you decide,” he whispered. “Kiss me. Or don’t. But don’t lie to yourself about what you want.”

His breath was warm. His lips were right there.

And I wanted it.

So badly it hurt.

But I pulled back.

He didn’t flinch. Just nodded, stood, and climbed into bed on his side.

---

The next morning, everything was different.

We didn’t speak.

He got dressed in silence. Left for class without looking at me.

And I hated how empty the room felt.

But I couldn’t chase him.

Not yet.

Not until I figured out how to stop being afraid of my own heart.

---

That night, he came back late again. But this time, he didn’t go to the party.

He walked in, stripped to his joggers, climbed into bed, and turned off the lamp without a word.

I laid there in the dark, listening to him breathe.

Until I couldn’t take it anymore.

I rolled over, reached out, and touched his arm.

He stiffened.

Then slowly turned toward me.

“Rule ten,” I whispered. “If I touch you first… I want you to touch me back.”

His voice was hoarse. “Are you sure?”

I nodded.

He reached up, cupped my face, and kissed me—really kissed me.

Not a tease. Not a dare.

But a slow, hungry, devastating kiss that pulled a sound from my throat I’d never made before.

My fingers dug into his shirt. His hand slipped under mine. We weren’t undressing—yet—but the heat was overwhelming.

His mouth moved to my neck, teeth grazing skin.

“Luca…” he breathed. “Tell me to stop.”

I couldn’t.

I didn’t want to.

But I did.

Barely.

“Not yet,” I whispered.

He pulled back, panting. Rested his forehead against mine.

“You’re driving me insane.”

I smiled. “Good.”

And we fell asleep tangled together, heat still simmering between us.