So you're a tough guy
Like it really rough guy
Just can't get enough guy
It’s like she’s singing about my brother and the very idea churns in my belly. Kace is suddenly behind me, his hands settling gently on my shoulders, his touch igniting a welcome hum in my body. He caresses down my arms, goosebumps lifting in the wake of his touch, my lips parting as his fingers slide over mine and then twine. With our fingers just like that, his arms fold around me, easing me against the warmth of his big, powerful body. I am desperate to block everything out but him.
We are above the city here, miles above the hustle and bustle of Manhattan, floating in the sky above the water, untouchable. But soon the rainbow of colors in our sky will fade to black and I welcome that darkness, at least for a moment. Then the stars will come, they will find the darkness, they will pierce it and illuminate it. The way my brother, Sofia, and the past will find us, too.
CHAPTER FOUR
The music shifts and the same song I’d heard on the drive to the charity event back in San Francisco lifts the air: “Pieces” by Rob Thomas. There’s a pinch in my chest with the emotion it stirs. I swear, it’s as if the song is chasing me right along with my past. I swallow hard with the impact of the words that so many have listened to while living in the prison of my birthright’s creation.
Didn't I tell you, you were gonna break down
Didn't I want you, everybody wants you
Memories surface, painful memories, and anger—there is anger—anger at all the years I lost in hiding, anger at Gio for his betrayal, and he has betrayed me. He exposed me to trouble without so much as a warning. He didn’t have the courage to own his actions. And now he wants me to doubt the world I’ve created because he screwed up. I shove aside the thoughts. I shove them hard.
The words of the song ignite in my mind again.
We build it up, we tear it down
We leave our pieces on the ground
I don’t want to tear my world apart. And I won’t let Gio tear it apart either.
And with that thought, I am desperate to feel anything but what I’m feeling right now. Kace must sense the turmoil inside me. He must fear it’s about him, because he leans in, his lips at my ear, his breath this warm, sweet tickle on my skin. “I only want you. Tell me you know that.”
Realization washes over me. I’m selfish, so very selfish. I’m not the only one affected by this night. Gio threatened him. Gio accused him. Gio all but ripped me from my home with Kace and all of this just after we faced Alexander and his attempt to tear us, and Kace, apart.
I rotate and press my hand to his chest, his heart thundering beneath my palm, telling a story. He’s affected by Gio’s return. He’s affected by my reaction to Gio’s return.
“I know,” I say. “You know I know. I trust you. I trust you more than I trust Gio, but then, words are just words, right?”
His eyes—those blue, blue eyes—widen slightly and then narrow. “What does that mean, Aria?” His palm settles warmly on my waist.
My hand goes to his, holding it in place. I have this sense that this man, who I can only compare to a majestic eagle, is about to spread his powerful wings and fly away. Or maybe it’s him who believes I will fly away when I will not. “We both need more tonight, don’t you think?”
“Define more,” he urges, just a hint of an edge to him, that I both understand, but do not like. Despite my words, despite my being right here with him, I’m right. He believes I might fly away at any moment. He’s not sure that my heart, mind, and body are in sync. And going into this encounter with Gio, he was already raw and exposed from a weekend where his secrets and past delivered reality with a sharp blade, still unsure where that leaves us.
He does need more.
This understanding is the courage I need to be vulnerable with him. The sheltered girl, with very little experience and many desires, at least where Kace is concerned, has found in this man, and a battery of circumstances, my motivation to be daring.
I twist away from Kace, catching the hem of my tee and pulling it over my head, quickly dropping it to the ground, but I don’t face him, not yet. I place a small distance between us, and when I turn to face him, I’m out of reach to him and him to me, that black sky now swallowing the Hudson River to our sides. “What are you doing, Aria?”
My pulse is pitter-pattering in a wicked beat. “I have control, right?”
“You do,” he says, his voice low, tight, controlled. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Own it,” I say, unhooking my bra and dragging it down my arms, and I toss it between us.
His eyes stay on my face, but I can feel the spike in energy between us, just as I had the night that I’d met him, the push and pull, the charge. “I decide what I do and don’t do.” I toe off my shoes and reach for my pants.
He is unmoving, more stone and sculpture than flesh and blood man, his expression unreadable, but the distinct pulse of his masculinity, his power in the room, that all but crackles. There is more there, too, something sharp with demand, an undercurrent of urgency, I decide, that defies his absolute control.
I slide my pants and panties down my hips and legs, and once my clothing is all gone, set aside, no longer a shelter or a barrier, I stand boldly naked before him. It’s a bit more intimidating than it was in my head, him fully dressed and me naked, but the buzz of the whiskey loosens my tongue. “I have control and I choose to give it to you.”
His expression doesn’t change, the hard lines of his handsome face drawn tight, but there is a shift to the air around him. He steps toward me, a predatory edge about him now, and my body tingles with awareness, with the hum of anticipation. He pauses just in front of me, but he doesn’t touch me, not yet.
His gaze flickers over my mouth and lifts, his eyes probing, seeking everything and it’s all his. “You want to give me control?” he confirms.
I want to touch him, but for reasons I cannot explain, I don’t. I simply say, “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because we both know we’re a breath from where you were in the hotel room.”
He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t deny. “I’m not there yet.”
“I think maybe I am. I think we need to be there together.”
“What if you can’t handle being there with me, Aria?”
“I can. We can.”
He doesn’t immediately react and seconds tick by in which I am so aware of this man not touching me, that my only need, and perhaps his as well, vibrates along my nerve endings.
“Don’t move,” he orders softly, and without waiting for my reply, he moves, steps around and then behind me, his hands resting on my naked shoulders. I inhale as the heat of his body, the heat of his touch, creates a charge that sizzles up and down my arm and across my chest, puckering my nipples. His breath fans my neck. “Do you think you trust me that much?”
“Yes.”
“You sure about that?”