Chapter 3

Sharp pain shot through her, and Nerissa couldn't stop the tears welling up.

Jace paused, giving her a moment to adjust, though faint sweat had already gathered on his forehead, a mix of restraint and desire.

"It... hurts," Nerissa choked out, her voice soft and shaking.

He looked at her tear-streaked face, something unfamiliar stirring in his chest. Slowing down, he brushed away a tear from the corner of her eye and murmured, "Just hang in there. It'll get better soon."

And he wasn't lying. The sharp pain gradually melted into a feeling of fullness she'd never known — then came waves of growing heat and tension.

Jace's rhythm eased from slow and steady to deeper, more deliberate thrusts, each one pulling new reactions from her. Nerissa's fingers curled tight into his back as soft, broken sounds escaped her lips.

Outside, neon lights blinked across the endless stream of traffic. Inside, harsh breaths tangled with stifled sobs in the still air of the apartment.

Her thoughts blurred as her body reacted on its own. She felt like a tiny boat caught in a swelling tide, with his presence as the only anchor keeping her from drifting away.

Who knew how long it lasted, but Jace's pace suddenly quickened, until at last he pushed deep one final time and stilled. He stayed there, his weight pressing into her, sweat dripping onto her collarbone.

Their racing heartbeats echoed in the silence, loud and unfiltered. Jace pulled out and got up, heading straight to the bathroom. Nerissa curled up on the sofa, her whole body aching, the stickiness between her legs making her feel even worse.

She stared blankly at the hidden ceiling lights, tears silently rolling down her cheeks.

The sound of running water came from the bathroom. A few minutes later, Jace walked out in a robe, not sparing her a glance as he went to pour himself a glass of whiskey.

"Second door on the left is the guest room," he said over his shoulder, his voice as cold as ever. "There's a bathroom and some clean clothes. I'll have 60,000 cash brought over in the morning."

Nerissa slowly sat up, her hands shaking as she picked her clothes up off the floor. "Thanks."

"No need." Jace turned to her briefly, his eyes glancing at the marks scattered across her skin. "It was just a deal. But — "

He paused. Her breath hitched.

"If you need money before graduating, you can come to me again," he said, sipping his drink, his expression unreadable. "Same terms."

Nerissa gave a stiff nod, clutching her clothes tightly as she hurried to the room he mentioned.

Once the door shut behind her, she slid down against it, finally letting herself cry in silence.

In the living room, Jace stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the dazzling lights of the city. The ice in his glass had already melted, watering down the amber liquor. But he just couldn't shake off the image of Nerissa's tear-streaked face — so fragile, yet still putting on a brave front. Her clumsy, sincere response had left a deeper mark than he cared to admit.

He'd been with plenty of women, but none like her. Embarrassed to the point her whole body flushed red, yet she still bit her lip and endured it.

Annoyed, Jace downed the rest of his drink in one go. This girl was trouble — too easy to get emotionally tangled up with. Once was enough, he told himself. Tomorrow, he'd hand her the money and call it done.

But when he finally got into bed and closed his eyes, it was like her subtle scent of soap mixed with a faint sweetness still lingered in the room. She was just... too pure. She didn't belong in his world at all.

Next door, under the shower, Nerissa stood still as the hot water poured over her. She scrubbed hard at her skin, desperate to get rid of the lingering sense of invasion that refused to wash off.

In the mirror, her swollen lips and the red marks across her collarbone and chest silently told the story of what had just happened.

Sixty thousand. That's what she got. The price for her first time, and for what little dignity she had left.

She dried off and pulled on a bathrobe from the guest room closet. It was clearly meant for a woman — brand new, never worn.