“Condom,” Ambrose growled, rolling onto his elbow so he could reach for the bedside drawers. “Not giving them grandchildren anytime soon was part of the talk.”
I attempted to smother my giggles in his chest, but it was no use. It was too easy to imagine how that conversation would’ve gone. Through my not-quite-muffled laughter, I managed to reach out and stop his hand.
Sobering as the words piled up in the back of my throat, I said, “You don’t need that. I’m on the pill.”
Ambrose blinked, eyes bouncing between mine as his hand fell to my hip instead. His gaze burned with intensity, and a shadow passed over his features. He dropped his forehead to mine without warning, and it was then I noticed how ragged his breathing had become.
My fingers slipped through his hair, massaging his scalp. “What is it?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. He bit down on his lower lip. The silent, imposing force that was Ambrose LaCroix looked away and softly said, “I haven’t... I mean, I’ve never...”
If there’d been any doubt that I was falling in love with him, he banished it with that utterance alone.
Here he was, rich, handsome, magnetic, yet he’d let all that fall away and revealed a part of himself to me that I was sure he’d have rather kept to himself. He was holding out something precious and trusting that I wouldn’t make him regret it. And I wouldn’t.
Because how could I want to do anything but cherish and protect the person I loved?
I brought his face back to me, letting him see the sincerity in my eyes before I pressed our lips together again. He was stiff for a heartbeat, then eased into my embrace, letting me lead. Ambrose didn’t fight me when I wrapped my legs around his waist, pinning him there against the livewire that was my body and the current of feelings sweeping through it.
“Me neither,” I whispered, brushing our noses together. “I’m right there with you, Ro.”
Our eyes locked.
His hand on my hip squeezed.
My eager nod became the only permission he needed.
Ambrose lined himself up with my entrance and eased in so slowly that I had to bite my tongue to keep a string of obscenities contained. The house was big, but I could be loud. And feeling him bare and solid and branding against my sensitive flesh pushed me closer to that edge faster than I’d ever reached it before.
He reached the end of my body and buried his head in the crook of my shoulder. “Holy fuck,” Ambrose growled, the sound doing delicious things to my lower half. “You feel... Fuck.”
I grinned against his neck. Not many people could say they’d left him speechless, but I could. Twice. Whenever I could string together a coherent sentence again, I’d rub it in his perfect face. But at the moment, my concerns were more immediate.
Surprising me once again, Ambrose set a torturously slow pace. The things I wanted to say got lost beneath the tide that rose up inside me. Drowned within the captivating depths of sensation I’d never felt before now. It was like I could feel every part of him at once. Like my body was being shaped and molded to fit him just right.
Muscles flexing, he pushed himself up on his arms so he could hover over me like a dark apparition. I looked down and caught the wave of his abs as he rolled his hips and plunged inside me deeper, harder, faster. The bed moved with us, the slight creak of springs accompanying my breathy gasps and his rough groans.
“Fuck, Em.” He crashed back down on top of me, hands drifting to grip my ass and pull me against him with each thrust.
I banded my arms around his chest, nails digging into his back as he pistoned in and out of me. My beaded nipples brushed back and forth across his chest, sending sparks through my middle that set off a chain reaction when they reached my clit. My lashes fluttered, eyes closing, my breathing so irregular I’d have thought I was dying if it didn’t feel so damn good.
“Ro...” I scratched him harder, unable to articulate what I wanted.
Needed.
Craved.
“I know,” he groaned. “I’m not going to make it either.”
“Then give it to me,” I begged. “All of it.”
His dick swelled inside of me. His abs tightened. All his muscles stood in stark relief against hard angles a second before he claimed my lips again and spilled himself inside me.
I followed him into oblivion, my greedy walls milking at his length while he twitched and flexed and filled me like no one ever had before.
And when he collapsed against me, weight crushing, I said nothing.
I held him in the cradle of my body. My hands released their death grip on his back, returning to his hair. I ran my fingers through the damp locks and whispered in his ear while we caught our breath.
I didn’t have a clue what I was saying, but it didn’t seem to matter to either of us. When our bodies stilled completely, sweat cooling, he withdrew enough to pull out of me and roll to his side. A huge hand readjusted me until my back was to his front and my ass rested against the still-hard length of him.
A contented sigh spilled from my lips to land on the arm he tucked beneath my head. And I snuggled deeper into him when his hand drifted down my stomach to cup my pussy. The pleased rumble in the back of his throat had me smiling into the dark.
I giggled to myself. “You’re such a guy.”
“Have to make sure I keep you close,” he whispered against my neck. “When I can tell up from down again, all this”—the heel of his palm pressed against my clit—”is going to be mine all over again.”
I reached down, briefly stroking his knuckles. “I’m already yours and you know it. But a reminder would be nice as well.”
His dick twitched.
I rubbed my ass against him again.
The exhaustion faded into the background as he spread my thighs and slid between them.
He gave me several reminders throughout the night.
Enough that I didn’t sleep.
Enough that I didn’t care to.
Enough that, when the sun peeked through the window to wake us up, I found myself staring captivated at his face like a total, lovestruck dummy, and I couldn’t find it in me to care.
34
Emily
Sitting at a picnic table with a notebook while I tried to picture myself in front of a clean work station surrounded by top of the line appliances wasn’t an easy task, but somebody had to do it.
Namely, me, since I wasn’t allowed to attend the actual class itself.
“You’re going to set your ovens to three hundred degrees,” Chef Stone was saying, voice coming through my headphones. “After that, you’ll need to make sure your egg yolks have properly separated, otherwise the entire thing will fall apart. Have that done, and I’ll be back momentarily.”
I scribbled another few lines in my notepad before relaxing into my seat and stretching my back. Handwritten notes were not my thing in the least. I much preferred to do everything on my laptop, but I’d left it in Ambrose’s room after he helped me study for a film test last night.
True to his word, I was passing that class with flying colors. The guy knew his way around movies and the themes or stories that inspired them. It was one of the few things he could actually be persuaded into talking animatedly about. Far be it from me to complain when he got started. I never gave much thought to movie quotes, but coming from him? They pushed my buttons just right.
While I waited for Chef Stone’s voice to resurface, I turned on some music and let my legs swing beneath me. “Bad Guy” by Billie Eilish filled my ears. I adjusted my light sweater, closing my eyes and bopping my head along to the beat.
It wasn’t winter just yet, but there was a frequent chill to the air now. Perfect hoodie and thick socks weather, which I was all about.
And it gave me another excuse—aside from being so enamored with him my heart hurt—to curl up beside Ambrose whenever we were together.
Without thinking twice about it, I grabbed my phone and fired off a quick text.
M
e: You made me forget my laptop. Remind me to grab it when I come over after class.
Ambrose: I didn’t make you forget anything. My dick did. You’ll have to take your case up with him.
My nose wrinkled and I laughed at my screen.
Me: Then I guess your dick and I are going to have words.
Ambrose: I’ve got to say, my dick and your mouth is my favorite kind of date. Hurry up and get your ass back here. All the guys are out doing their thing and I’m bored.
Me: I’m sorry, did I say you could give me orders?
Ambrose: No, but you know that I’ll make it worth your while if you listen…
An eggplant emoji followed by a kissing face came through right as I was grabbing a sip of water. I nearly sprayed liquid all over my notes. Talking him into using emojis over the last week or so had been a process, but I was sure those two were already showing up in his frequently used section. At least he knew what he liked.
I shook my head and put my phone down, lowering the volume on the music. What was taking Chef Stone so long? The faster this wrapped up, the faster I could put my plan into action. My awesome plan didn’t really have a launch point just yet, but it was in the works.
“Tell me about this,” Chef Stone said.
I froze.
Her voice hadn’t come through the speakers.
In a mix of abject horror and fascination, I watched her place the phone that had been hidden in the room down on the picnic table beside me. I pulled my earbuds out and looked up at her scowling face.
She wasn’t bright red with fury, but the folded arms and general you’re a bug I should crush beneath my heels expression told me I wasn’t on her good side either.
When I didn’t respond, she tapped the phone.
“I said, tell me about this.”
“It’s...a phone.”
“You don’t say?” she spat, lip curling. “What part of me kicking you out of class didn’t sink in, Ms. Brennan? That wasn’t an excuse to find a loophole.”
“You never said not to find a loophole either.”
If it was possible to burn someone to ash through eye contact alone, she would’ve done so.
Chef Stone wiped at the other side of the bench and sat down beside me. “I won’t ask how you got into my locked classroom. I know who you’ve aligned yourself with.”
I shook my head and the filter I should’ve been speaking through fell out completely. “You’re supposed to be a teacher. How can you just blatantly throw me out over a grudge I have nothing to do with?”
She crossed her legs at the knee. Shrugged. “Because I can.” Chef Stone turned her arm over, showing me the small, black rose tattooed on her inner wrist. “Just because we pass our roles onto the younger generation doesn’t mean I can’t swing my weight around here. So, if you were planning on having your little boyfriend call in some favors, I’d suggest not wasting your time. Ambrose LaCroix doesn’t scare me.”
Maybe he should, I wanted to snap. But filter or no filter, that didn’t seem a productive way to conduct this conversation.
I’d admit, after the initial blow of being publicly humiliated, I hadn’t been sure if I wanted to join her class again. She obviously wasn’t going to change her ways for my sake, not that I expected that to happen. And I’d come as far as I had from watching videos, practicing, and repeating the basics Mom taught me when we used to truly get along.
I could go further doing those same things. But it’d be the equivalent of crawling towards the finish line when I could learn from one of the best and sprint there instead.
“I already told him to stay out of it,” I told her, straightening my posture.
“Then who put that phone there?” Her brows lifted. “I have a hard time believing that you’re a lockpicker, or that you found your way to where the spare keys are stashed by yourself.”
My smile was sweeter than candy and just as deceptive. Seriously, the calories in candy bars added up. They lied to you with the miniature, delicious-looking exterior, when the contents were more like eating an entire slice of cake and pouring sugar down your mouth afterward.
“I never said anything about the other Tarots. Just that I wasn’t going to involve him.”
Chef Stone checked her nails. “Let me guess. You intend on being a pain in my ass for the rest of your time here?”
“Or until you let me back in your class.”
“You’d come back?” Her eyes narrowed. “Knowing your presence isn’t wanted?”
You really don’t know me at all. That’s what happens when you judge someone before giving them a chance.
“I don’t give a damn about my presence or my reputation,” I said, getting to my feet and gathering my things. “That class was the sole reason I agreed to come to this school in the first place. You can hate me all you want to. Give me garbage duty. Make me work on group projects alone. Mock everything I do wrong if that’ll make you feel better, I honestly couldn’t care less. I want to grow. I want to get better.”
“For what?” She stood, glaring down at me. “Why do you want this so bad?”
Because I need to know that people like you won’t have power over me for the rest of my life.
Because rubbing it in your face in a few years when I have business cards and my own shop will be worth its weight in gold.
Because I never feel as comfortable as I do anywhere other than in a kitchen.
But she didn’t need to know any of that.
She didn’t deserve to know any of that.
So, what I said instead was, “I want this for me.” My next smile was more sincere than the last—a hint of promise peeking through. “See you next week, Chef Stone.”
I walked away.
“I’m not letting you through those doors,” she called after me.
“Then maybe I’ll open a window and hang out by it instead!”
I couldn’t be sure, but I thought several muttered curses followed in behind me.
When I stepped into the Tarot’s house, a gut feeling told me not to announce myself. A moment later, the sound of voices in the living room reached me. Why I decided not to tell them I was here, I couldn’t say. Nor could I blame it on not wanting to talk to Erik.
We still weren’t...friendly, and he continued to give me pretty frequent side-eye whenever Ambrose and I got a bit hot and heavy while he was around.
But—and I was going by nothing but a guess—the side-eye had gradually become more fucking gross, take it behind closed doors than I hate your face and I want to gouge my eyes out to stop seeing it.
What could I say? Progress.
Instead of rounding the corner and making my presence known, I stopped and listened.
“The first time could’ve been a fluke,” Erik said, “I’ll give you that. Second time could’ve been someone at Thornwood looking for something to use against us. Third time? That’s not dumb luck anymore, Ro. That’s a fucking pattern.”
“He’s right.” Baron’s dry voice was easy to pick out. “I ran the numbers again last night, and the decline in offerings is negligible at first, but it’s there. People aren’t coming to us like they were.”
Chrom was the loudest of the three. “Do we really have to talk shop right now? I need to get ready for practice, but you shits had to call a meeting.”
“If not now, when?” Baron asked. “Rein in the attitude and remember who you are, Strength. Who we all are. Our roles come with just as many chains as they do perks. You know as well as I do that all it’ll take is a hint of weakness for our parents to start breathing down our necks. Then we’ll have to explain why we’re making a side profit from doing our damn jobs.”
In the silence that followed, I peered around the corner. The four of them were scattered about the living room. Ambrose and Chrom sat on a sofa in the middle of the room. Baron stood off to one side, glasses in his hand while he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Erik straddled a chair, and he kept rolling his neck on his shoulders like there w
as a boulder of tension he couldn’t get rid of.
Each of them watched Ambrose, who met those expectant gazes with the same impenetrable mask he retreated into when he didn’t want to answer.
“Hint fucking hint,” Erik said. “It’s gonna be a bitch to explain when three of us still don’t know why you’re doing all this, Ro. And even though I don’t know this Kaylee chick, I’d rather she stayed buried like the ghost she supposedly is.”
Baron shot him a look he didn’t notice.
Ambrose clicked his tongue. “It’s complicated.”
Chrom threw his hands in the air. “Oh, here we go again. You do remember that you’re supposed to keep secrets from everybody else, right? Not us.”
“What do you want me to say?”
The other three answered in unison, “The truth.”
What are you keeping from us, Ambrose?
I didn’t question when it had become an us. That’s just the way it was. What I did know was that whatever skeletons he tried to keep locked in his closets, there was beginning to be a shortage of space.
“The truth sounds like a good idea,” I said, stepping into the room.
His attention snapped to me, eyes flashing. A cloud darkened his features. I knew what was coming when his response took on that deadly, soft tone.
“What happened to trusting me?”
I stopped in front of him, aware of the others watching. When he didn’t reach out for me the way he always did when I was close by, pressure squeezed my ribs tight. “That’s not an excuse to tell a thousand lies.”
“I haven’t told a thousand.”
“But you haven’t been telling the complete truth either.” I looked around the room. “If these guys have managed to deal with your ass for years, I don’t see how you could keep anything from them in good conscience.”
His wince was a slight thing; it didn’t feel like a victory.
My heart ached when his gaze hardened. As much as I wanted to take the words back, I refused to apologize.
Defiant Prince: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Black Rose University Book 1) Page 32