She laughed and pushed the piece of paper back toward me. “Get outta here.” A chuckle popped out of her mouth when I brought the paper to my lips and kissed it, then folded it and stuck it in my back pocket.
Times like this with her were what kept me hangin’ on. I saw all sides of Chelsea, and even in the times I wanted to strangle her, I still wanted to be with her. Not everything between us made sense, namely why we kept coming back to each other, but I didn’t believe it was supposed to.
There was an innate pull we had toward the other, and while we sometimes worked to sever that connection during times of anger and spitefulness, the bond only strengthened. Like I said, I didn’t fully comprehend it, so to try and explain such a thing or even dissect it in my brain enough to extract even a fraction of the reasoning was near impossible. I just knew it existed, and I stopped fighting against it when I finally told her I loved her.
Ideally, I would’ve confessed my feelings under better circumstances but there was nothing like a bullet to force a guy to man up.
I realized when I told her that, she wasn’t gonna say it back, although I had an inkling she felt the same way. And if she didn’t, she was on her way to.
Speaking of, I had to inform her I didn’t plan on being without her from here on out. She could try and push me away, but I wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.
She was mine for good.
And it was time I clued her in.
23
The moment I laid eyes on Ace when I arrived, I realized the walls around my heart were crumbling, no matter how much I tried to distance myself emotionally from him. He had an unnerving way of sneaking into the fortress I’d taken years to construct, and just one smile, one moment of sincerity from him, and I could hear the splintering of the cracks.
The man was fierce when he wanted to be, had showed me that side of him too many times to count since the day we started messin’ around, him standing on his porch earlier when he started in on me about my phone a prime example. He was upset. Or maybe he was worried. Perhaps it was a mixture of both.
As I followed him inside, I couldn’t believe we hadn’t even known each other a year. We’d met when Riley invited me to one of their family cookouts, this one in particular being nine months back. Ace had showed up with Linc, and the second we saw each other, the chemistry sizzled between us. He was one of the sexiest guys I’d ever seen, his hint of cockiness a trait and not a fault like it would be on most others. I gave him my number, but he didn’t call for five days, and while I’d hate to admit such a thing, I checked my phone umpteenth times waiting for him to contact me. When he finally did, I refused to answer simply on principle. I did return his call three days later to which he answered. And I supposed from then the back-and-forth remained between us, each vying for the upper hand. We pushed each other’s buttons, but the connection between us was undeniable, albeit confusing at times.
“I have to talk to you.” Ace slowly lowered himself to the sofa, sitting beside me, adjusting himself so he faced me. Apprehension kicked my pulse into overdrive. Was he gonna rehash our conversation at the salon, mainly the part where he told me he loved me? Because I wasn’t sure what to say to him if he did. It was bad enough I didn’t say anything back on the topic when he initially voiced the words, how would it be if I refused to say anything a second time?
Schooling my expression to hide my anxiety, I kicked off my sneakers, swiveled my body toward him, and tucked my leg beneath my other.
“Now I can’t concentrate.” His eyes darted to the hem of my skirt, then back to my face.
“Why?”
“Because I can see your underwear.”
“So?” I fidgeted even though it was pointless because my skirt wasn’t budging. “You’ve seen them before.”
“Yeah, I know. But now I want to take them off.”
I wasn’t shocked in the slightest with his confession. We were either fighting or fucking, with a sprinkling of real stuff mixed in for good measure. But even though I craved his touch and the feel of his body against mine, we needed to be smart, for multiple reasons.
A part of me had been crushed when he seemed to walk away so easily from what we had, even though I wouldn’t admit as much to him. Then another part was pissed I allowed myself to get so attached to him.
No attachments.
No hurt.
No problem.
Until now.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I responded, gesturing toward his side. “Not while you’re healing. No exertion.”
The grin that slipped onto his face was wicked. “You can get on top.”
I didn’t say anything at first, envisioning that very same position, one which I thoroughly enjoyed, when he allowed me the control to do so, which wasn’t often. Most times, Ace needed to be the dominator, the one who took charge. Only occasionally he’d relinquish and give me the reins.
Adjusting my position, I couldn’t get comfortable, so I stood and tugged on the bottom of my skirt, but before I could sit back down, he reached for my hand and pulled me toward him. I didn’t resist.
He tugged me closer, and I almost tripped over his feet. “What are you doing?”
“Straddle me.” How could two simple words heat my blood so quickly?
“No.” I tried to yank my hand from his, but it was futile. His hold was too tight, without hurting me. “Ace.” I shook my head but still he didn’t relent.
“I just wanna talk.”
“And you need me to sit on you to do that?”
“Yes, because I need you close.” A swirl of vulnerability twisted his words and it was enough to make me comply. I couldn’t begin to imagine what he went through when he’d been shot. The least I could do was give in this once.
“Okay. But no funny business.” Deep down I prayed for some of that funny business.
Why did I wear such a fitted skirt today? Shoving my annoyance with the piece of clothing aside, I lifted the hem as I positioned myself over his lap. He could clearly see underneath at this angle, and while his eyes roamed over the area, they connected with mine seconds later.
“You need a shave,” I said, my fingers brushing over his jaw. He often rotated between having a beard, at various lengths, and being clean-shaven. I never knew how he was gonna look, surprising me all the time with his appearance. Nothing drastic, just enough to keep it interesting I supposed. I couldn’t decide which way I preferred, though, because he was gorgeous with and without facial hair. Although when he shaved, the faint dimple in his left cheek was more visible when he smiled and he used that damn thing to disarm me, usually when I was pissed at him for one thing or another.
The feel of his scruff jolted me into a memory of his stubble tickling my inner thighs, the warmth of his breath against the neediest part of me making me twitch on his lap. I was gonna be the one to instigate if I didn’t stop thinking about the way his tongue could—
“You okay? You look flushed.” He smiled when I swallowed, nodding because I couldn’t find my words yet.
Eventually, I answered. “I’m fine.”
“Fine,” he mimicked. “I wish I was fine. I’m anything but.” His hands landed on my waist, his fingers flexing and making me crave more.