The Club: Ace

by Jenna Elliot

  No, she’s cautioning me to be careful. I know it. She knows it, even if she won’t ’fess up. I dumped my ex-jerk not long ago, when I found him in bed with another girl. Someone from work. A friend, he’d said. Not mine, for sure.

  But Jason was such a good liar that I didn’t have a clue. We’d only been together five months. Rationally, I know we were only in the honeymoon phase, but it was more than that for us. From the minute we met, we knew we were soul mates. Well, we thought we were . . . I thought we were. He obviously changed his mind along the way.

  What took me by surprise was how much it had hurt. Five months really shouldn’t have translated into such a sense of loss, but it had. Time hadn’t mattered. Rationality hadn’t mattered, either. Not when our dreams had lined up.

  My head hadn’t been able to talk any sense into my broken heart. Jason’s betrayal had hurt. More than I would have thought possible. Such is life.

  Mia had fed me chocolate cookie dough ice cream with pretzels. Gross, I know. But there’s no accounting for go-to comfort foods. Even Ethan has been good to me, putting up with my crazy-long calls to Mia during their alone time.

  Mia, more than anyone, understands how love at first sight works, and I know she doesn’t want to see my heart get shit on all over again.

  “I forgot Jason even existed tonight,” I tell her, putting the subject square between us. “And even if this was rebound sex, on a scale of one to ten, Ace was a solid twenty-five.”

  “Seriously?”

  I hear the pause, and I know Mia’s going to be equally honest, even though I don’t want to hear it. I don’t.

  She sighs. “I’ve never seen Ace without several women clinging to him, Emme. He changes them out more than he does his socks.”

  “He wasn’t wearing socks tonight. Underwear, either.” I laugh. “I hear you. But I’m not looking for a relationship. I don’t want any entanglements. I only want to have fun. No responsibilities. Nothing to worry about. No control works for me right now.”

  Mia knows exactly what I’m talking about. She might not want level two for herself, but she’s well aware of the kind of sex that goes on there.

  “And that’s fun for you?” she asks delicately.

  “That would be one big-ass yes.”

  She chuckles. “Then I’m glad. I really am. You deserve to be happy. That’s all I care about.”

  “I know.”

  And that’s it. Subject of Jason over. She doesn’t try to drive home her point. She doesn’t care about anything except that I’m happy. And I am glowing from the inside out.

  “I’m seeing Ace again, next Friday,” I explain. “Three more Fridays to be exact.”

  “Really? That’s interesting.” There’s a lot more than interest in her voice. “Last I heard, Ace likes to spread the candidates around. He doesn’t trust too many people’s judgment. Been a problem for Ethan.”

  “I’ll bet.” Mia and Ethan are exclusive. I’ve known my BFF since middle school and know for a fact she would never step aside to let her guy test out new club candidates. No way. No how. Not if the testing involved what took place in the dungeon between me and Ace tonight.

  Just the thought makes me tip my head back against the headrest with a contented sigh. “Maybe Ethan asked him to give me special treatment?”

  “Hold on, I’ll text Ethan.”

  I turn right and angle off the highway, noticing the car behind me. It’s up my ass, and I have no clue why. It’s not as if I’m poking along here. I’ve been driving along a solid ten miles over the speed limit. In the glow of a streetlamp, I glimpse blond hair and immediately think of Ace. I do a double take. Is he following me? To make sure I get home safe?

  I glance in my rearview mirror again. The car is an older-model Honda SUV that has seen better days with a lopsided front headlight. Ace, the man who kicks off custom-made pants and hands them folded on the seams to the clothes-checker, wouldn’t be caught dead in something so . . . vintage. I smile at the thought.

  “No go with that theory,” Mia reports. “Ethan didn’t ask Ace to treat you any differently than any other candidate.”

  An awesome fucking on my own merit. I like that. “Maybe he just likes me.”

  “Don’t go there. Don’t even think it. Ace isn’t even a one-night stand. He’s like a twenty-second fling,” Mia reminds me.

  “That’s part of the attraction, remember. I won’t get attached. He won’t get attached. I don’t expect anything except ten-minute orgasms and walking bow-legged the day after.”

  Mia laughs. “It’s good to hear the happy back in your voice. You’re really okay?”

  “Have you ever seen Ace’s dick in your time at the club?”

  “No. Why?”

  “The dude is hung with a capital H. And he is a master at knowing what to do with his lion-sized junk.”

  Mia shrieks on the other end of the line. “La-la-la-la-la-la-la. TMI.”

  “Prude.”

  “Slut.”

  “But I’m a happy, happy slut.”

  Mia chuckles and changes the subject. “And speaking of happy, I think Ethan bought me a ring.”

  “You think?” I sigh. Not sure how this works. But Mia and Ethan are good together. I can see them settling down someday. Maybe that day is coming even sooner than I expected.

  “I found a jewelry box in the back of his sock drawer.”

  “That sounds promising. Is it an engagement ring?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t look.”

  “Say what? Mia!”

  She huffs. “I want to be surprised. You know me. I enjoy anticipating how and when he’ll do it.”

  “You are such a romantic.”

  “That’s rich coming from the one who wants a husband and eight kids. Since middle school, I might add.”

  Well, I can’t deny that. I come from a big family, and I see a big family in my future. But I’m in no big hurry. I want to live my single life and wait for the right man . . . I squelch that thought pretty damned fast.

  I try to sound philosophical. “If it was meant to work out, then it would have worked out. It didn’t, so as far as I’m concerned this is my time to play. I’m going to make the most of it. And with Ace, as long as I’m his candidate.”

  “Just so long as you don’t get your feelings hurt when he moves on.”

  “Don’t worry. There’s no chance in hell. Jason took me by surprise, I’ll grant you. But that was a whole different situation. There is no man of my dreams with Ace. He’s a party boy, and very up front about it. He throws a helluva party.”

  A party girl is exactly what I want to be right now. I try to convince myself that I don’t have to chase the future or lock it down. Now is good. Better than I’d ever imagined.

  8

  Emme

  I SAY GOODBYE to Mia and disconnect the call. Grabbing my purse, I lock the car and head to my apartment. Of course I want someone to love me. Someone who thinks I’m special. Someone who only sees me in a roomful of beautiful women.

  The way Ace did tonight.

  But I don’t want Ace. He can’t “hurt my feelings” the way Mia meant, the way—I stop. He’s perfect for some fun, for the now, but never for anything real, like a relationship. If he ever even has those. I seriously doubt it.

  I want to be with someone who thinks I’m the best. Not someone who thinks I’m the best flavor of the night. I want something special like my parents have. The best thing they ever gave me and my siblings was love.

  Mia helped me see that. I may not have grown up in a fancy house in the trendy part of town like she did. Or take killer vacations to all kinds of cool places. Or even have new clothes when I could have really used them.

  But I grew up surrounded by acceptance and encouragement and unconditional love. So much love that my family always has some to spare with others. Like Mia. And I love that about them.

  I’m smiling by the time I turn into my hallway. This may not be a high-rise with a view
and a doorman, like the one Mia lived in while going to school, but it’s safe and clean, and has neighbors who look out for one another. The place is usually well-lit, but tonight, a hallway bulb is out, the one beside my door. As I adjust to the dimness, I spot a man sitting in the shadows, his back against the door, his blond head down.

  My pulse ramps up. For a second I think of Ace, then remember the blond guy on the highway. I’ve obviously got blonds on the brain tonight.

  I’m poised to take off the way I came, banging on a few doors along the way, when the guy looks up. I stop short.

  “Jason?” His name’s out of my mouth before I get my head wrapped around the fact he’s here. Waiting for me?

  So it would seem.

  He flashes the charming smile that used to melt me from the inside out. “You’re out late.”

  Four months ago, I was hanging onto my cell phone every second, so I wouldn’t miss his call. Now, every part of me shuts down in a blink, which is saying something, given the night I’ve had. Survival mode. It has to be.

  Once, shame on him. Twice, shame on me.

  “I am.” I agree, but offer nothing else. My life is no longer his business.

  He’s the only one who owes any explanations around here. Starting with . . . “What’s up, Jason? Why are you here?”

  He doesn’t answer, but pushes away from the wall. I get the impression he’s been here a while. Good. I hope he’s been waiting all night.

  Then he stands, unwinding his body in a way that used to make me hot just looking at him. He’s tall, but not as tall as Ace, and definitely thinner than I’ve seen him. It’s too much to hope that he lost his appetite because he’s consumed with guilt, so maybe he just looks thinner because he’s more boy than the man I was with tonight. Doesn’t matter.

  What does matter is that he’s blocking my door.

  Why isn’t he saying anything?

  “Not going to lie,” I prompt. “Surprised to see you here.”

  “I bet,” he says with a lame shrug.

  What is that . . . regret?

  He meets my gaze with those unbelievably gorgeous baby blues. The kind of eyes so clear they’re almost startling in his face. One look from him used to make my stomach swoop and my heart race. Now, I’m ice. And when he stares at me, I don’t feel much of anything. Not anger. Not hurt.

  But there is a part of me warming up, a part that’s completely incensed he’d take my dreams, our dreams according to him, and shit all over them. For a piece of ass. I have to force myself not to demand to know if boning his friend was worth it.

  I keep my mouth shut because I don’t really want an answer. Once I thought I knew him on some deep, mystic level. Now I have no clue how he’ll respond, and I’m truly not in the mood to hear that some leggy piece of ass was worth throwing us away.

  I’m in a strange place. No question. It’s as if he hurt me so much I built a wall between us. A wall to protect me from giving him that kind of power again.

  “I’ve missed you.” His voice is a whisper in the dark, his tone . . . something. Remorseful? I don’t know. Something about the slump of his shoulders, his whole tentative aura, strikes me as needy. A contrite little boy. And I would know since I have two younger brothers.

  I steel myself against those words I once wanted to hear. Now I’m not really interested in what he feels. It’s not important. He didn’t care about what I felt when he blew us up.

  I move to push past him, but he reaches down and retrieves flowers he’d propped against the wall. It’s a beautiful bouquet, made up of nothing but gorgeous stargazer lilies. My favorite.

  He holds the bouquet out to me. “I was the worst kind of asshole. I’m sorry.”

  I agree, but the sight of those flowers constricts my throat so the sarcasm in my head never makes it to my mouth. He’s given me flowers before. On our first date. After we made love the first time. On a weekend getaway to Daytona Beach.

  All good times.

  I just stare at his peace offering, while the fragrance of lilies infiltrates my senses.

  We did have good times. Beyond good times. The kind of times where we clicked so completely that the whole world seemed electrified, and the future filled with every imaginable possibility. Such good times that I never saw his betrayal coming. Never even suspected . . .

  I shake my head. I don’t want his flowers, or any memories of him. Not good or bad.

  “Can we talk?” He doesn’t wait for a reply, but plucks the keys from my hand and opens the door.

  “I have nothing to say.”

  “Then will you listen?”

  There is something so earnest in him that I finally walk inside. He follows me and lays the flowers on the table. I debate whether to put them in a vase or throw them in the trash. Either way, I would buy some time to collect myself.

  My emotions ping-pong worse than PMS. I’ve just come off the most incredible orgasms I’ve ever had. Far more incredible than any I ever had with Jason, thank you very much.

  But a tiny voice inside reminds that I’m comparing apples to oranges. I can’t fairly judge the sex I had tonight with anything I’d ever done with Jason.

  We made love. And there’s a big difference between having sex to feel good and making love with someone you care for.

  I leave the flowers on the table and flip on a light. Anything to shake me out of this sex-sated stupor. I feel raw. My legs are still rubber. I bet if I tell Jason where I’ve been and what I’ve done, he’ll run screaming out the door.

  “All right, Jason. Talk,” I say. “I’m tired, and there’s not much left of the night.”

  He spears his hand through his hair, and I can tell he was hoping for a warmer reception. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to own his crappy behavior. I don’t know.

  I tell myself I don’t give a shit. But I also don’t tell him where I’ve been tonight.

  “I owe you an explanation, Emme.” He swings a dining room chair around and straddles it. “It’s taken me some time to figure out what was really going on, why I did what I did.”

  “You were horny?” I suggest, the sarcasm finally making its way out.

  He grimaces, a look of revulsion and shame, I think. I hope, anyway, since I’m not a mind-reader.

  “No, it was never about sex,” he says slowly.

  Suddenly, I’m too edgy to sit, so I half-sit on the arm of the sofa, so there’s some distance between us.

  “Oh, really? You told me your friend was pursuing you at work for a while, and you’d had too much to drink at that fund-raising event. She gave you a lift home, came on to you, and you weren’t thinking clearly.” My tone is clipped and matter of fact. “Did I miss anything?”

  He doesn’t look at me. He lowers his head instead, so the blond waves fall onto his forehead. He needs a haircut.

  “I was unbelievably stupid,” he admits. “I never wanted to hurt you, but I wasn’t thinking about you at the time.”

  “Obviously.”

  “I was thinking about me. What I couldn’t figure out was why. Once I figured that out, I understand what happened.”

  He falls silent, and I wait. It takes every ounce of will that I have, but I refuse, absolutely refuse to ask. I only signed on to listen, not to get all emotionally caught up in the drama and hurt of his betrayal.

  He finally meets my gaze, and I see so much in his face, so much raw emotion. I wish I trusted what I saw.

  “I was freaking, Emme. We were talking about a future with marriage and kids.”

  “You told me that’s what you wanted. Was that a lie, too?”

  “No. None of it was a lie. I did want that. I still do.” He stares at me in entreaty. “More than anything. But it was all coming so fast . . . I just freaked. It wasn’t that I didn’t want you or us or being together, but everything was changing so fast. We were making big decisions, and I guess as much as I wanted everything, I just wasn’t ready. What happened was all about me putting distance between the way I felt.
”

  Fucking selfish prick. “Yeah, all about you, Jason. No shit. I wasn’t in there anywhere.”

  “That not true,” he says quickly. “I wasn’t thinking about how I would hurt you, I admit, but you were the reason I was freaking out. I wanted you so much, Emme. I was like obsessed with you. We did everything together, and I just started drowning. But I couldn’t admit it. I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t understand it at the time the way I do now, but looking back . . . Everything just started to feel bigger than I was.”

  He holds my gaze and doesn’t let go. I could drown in those clear blue depths. He means what he says and that rattles me.

  “If I’d have been thinking, I would never have done what I did. I’m not some cheating loser. But I wasn’t thinking. I was feeling. Kate kept trying to spread her legs for me, showing up in my office at work, ambushing me in the staff lounge, and her attention was simple. Nothing but sex. I wasn’t emotionally invested in her the way I was with you. The only reason I gave in was because it felt simple. It was a lame cop-out, and you didn’t deserve it. I was a total asshole, and I’m sorry.”

  He spreads his hands in entreaty. He wants me to understand, and all I can think is . . . Kate. Her name is Kate. The woman he thought was more special than me. The woman who took my place in his bed. And knowing her name brings back the clawing agony of walking in on them doing the dirty. Her legs in the air. Him pumping into her.

  I shiver. I close my eyes because I can’t look at him. But all I see is him pounding into her. He threw me away like I was nothing. Less than nothing.

  But another question finally breaks through that horrible image in my head.

  Why tonight of all possible nights?

  How can I possibly not understand his need for simple, easy sex when I’ve been running to Command Performance for the exact same thing? No entanglements. No complications. Just plain and simple pleasure.

  But I’m not exclusive with anyone now, am I? And that thought just stokes my anger even more.