by Amelia Wilde
She scans my face, and then her expression relaxes. “Oh, Carolyn. Of course. How—how are you?” Another flash of confusion. “It’s quite late,” she says, glancing down at her overcoat and nightgown combo. “It’s very late.”
“You’re right, Mrs. Hensley.” I step forward and link my arm in hers. “Are you feeling all right? Is there anyone you’d like me to call?” I know she has one son in the city and a daughter on the west coast. Somewhere, I have the son’s number written down—she gave it to me forever ago, thinking she’d set us up. He should know about this, if not in the middle of the night.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I think I’d like to go back to bed.”
“Not a problem at all.” She lives on the third floor. I mouth “I’m sorry” at Ace, and he shakes his head, raising his hands slightly. “Tomorrow” he mouths back, and I give him a smile.
In the elevator with Mrs. Hensley, a strange tiredness descends on my shoulders. I was going to sneak up to the penthouse and knock on Ace’s door once Mrs. Hensley was safe in her apartment, but my eyes are getting heavier by the second, and my heart is in two places at once.
Afraid that the rumors might be true.
And warmed through by the sight of Ace Kingsley stopping everything to help a distraught old woman.
I’m falling…despite the rumors.
20
Ace
I toss and turn all night, wishing Carolyn was here with me.
Should I go down to her door and knock softly until she answers?
No.
She seemed to take my words as a promise, although there was a flash of some expression in her eyes that I couldn’t quite place.
That poor woman outside our building.
Noah hadn’t opened the door for me when we pulled up, and it made perfect sense when I saw her standing outside the building, pacing the sidewalk. Where was the doorman? He wasn’t at his usual post behind the podium. No telling how long the woman had been out there. It wasn’t very cold for the middle of the night in September, but she didn’t seem to care about the temperature, only locating her husband.
It reminded me of seeing my grandmother like that, her mind prematurely deteriorating before she even reached her seventies.
On the way up to the penthouse in the empty elevator, my jaw clenched. I wanted Carolyn with me, not escorting an old woman back to her apartment. I might have insisted on her coming up afterward, as soon as she was done, only….
There’s something about her that splits me in two.
She makes me feel like the same Ace Kingsley who left for Italy two years ago—cocky, self-assured, and totally unafraid to go after and take the things I wanted. But she also taps into the soft-hearted part of me that came out of hiding in Europe, with Elisa.
What would Elisa think about all this?
For the first time since arriving back in New York City, I think of her without a twisted shock of pain. It’s still there, but dull, farther off, soothed by the fact that Carolyn is nearby. If I wanted to, I could go down to her apartment right now and see her, assuming she’s there, and not out doing something on what looks from my penthouse windows like a gorgeous Saturday morning.
Nothing. She wouldn’t think anything because she’s dead.
My throat tightens.
It’s a mistake, I know it is, but Carolyn is drawing me to her in a way I can’t ignore. The way she put off sex—sex with me—to help that woman get back to her apartment safely….
That’s the kind of woman I want to be with.
Even if it means disaster.
My coffee has gone cold and I’m staring out at the New York City skyline from the windows surrounding the breakfast nook in the penthouse when there’s a knock at the door.
Who the hell…?
When I open the door, a shiver of sheer pleasure runs down my spine.
It’s Carolyn, looking gorgeous in a deep red wrap dress, her hair piled on top of her head, cheeks pink.
“Hi.”
“Can I come in?”
I step back to let her into the apartment, the smile already spreading across my face.
“How’s Mrs….” The name of the woman completely escapes me.
“Hensley? She’s doing all right. I called her son this morning, and he’s coming over to visit her.” Carolyn’s forehead crinkles with concern. “Poor lady. I’ve never seen her like that before.”
“It’s too bad.”
Carolyn looks up at me as I close and lock the door behind us. “I didn’t come here to talk about Mrs. Hensley.”
“Oh, really?” I feign the slightest hint of innocence, but I step toward her all the same, and she bites her lip.
“No.”
“Then what did—”
Before I can get the words out of my mouth, she’s crashing into me, her lips hard against mine. It seems like the most natural thing in the entire world when she jumps up and wraps her legs around me, her arms sliding around my neck, her firm ass balanced in my hands.
“I wanted to talk to you,” she says between kisses, “but—”
“That can wait,” I growl before pressing my lips to the smooth skin of her neck. Without thinking about it, I’ve walked us to the bedroom, but I let her kiss me for another full minute at least, my cock standing out hard against the fabric of my jeans, before I lay her on her back on the bed and prop myself up over her on my elbows.
Her eyes are dark and glittering, and I take the time to explore her mouth with my tongue before I lean down and untie the belt of the wrap dress with my teeth, tugging it until the knot comes loose and then finishing the job with my hands.
Underneath the dress she’s wearing a black bra and panty set that takes my breath away. It has her breasts cupped to perfection, and my hands ache with the need to be where that scrap of lacy fabric is, so I sit her upright, kissing her harder, faster, while I undo the bra and slide the straps down her arms before tossing it to the floor next to the bed.
The panties are next.
I spread her out on the comforter, head tipped back, eyes closed, while I hook my fingers into the waistband of the panties and tug them down. She points her toes delicately when I reach her feet, and I grab one in one hand and plant a kiss on one of her slim ankles.
Perfection.
Then I edge her legs apart, anticipating the damp sweetness waiting for me.
“You wanted to talk about something?”
I take the opportunity to kiss her ankle again, then a little higher. Her breath hitches in her chest.
She’s panting. “I thought you said….”
I kiss another inch higher, a little hotter, a little harder, then another inch.
“I’ll tell you whatever it is you want to know,” I say, kissing another tantalizing inch closer to her pussy. She tilts her hips and spreads her legs apart a little more, her ankle trembling in my grip. “Right after I fuck you.”
Carolyn whispers something I can’t make out.
“What was that, you sexy thing?”
“Please.”
21
Carolyn
Ace makes me come so hard, and so many times, that when we’re finally finished, I turn over on my side, lay my cheek against the cool pillowcase on his bed, and fall asleep.
When I wake up, I can’t tell if it’s been minutes or hours, and for a moment all I can feel is a sharp jolt of adrenaline running through all of my veins, straight to my fingertips.
What time is it? I wanted to talk to him.
Ace stirs in the bed next to me, his eyelids fluttering. When he sees me, his smile is bright enough to light up the entire planet, and my heart beats hard in my chest.
He could be a murderer, and my heart is going crazy for him.
“Hey.” He stretches his arms above his head, his hard biceps on full display. “Did we sleep the day away?” Ace closes his eyes again, a contented smile on his face.
I squint at the floor-to-ceiling windows on the other side of the
bedroom, trying to determine the time by the quality of the light. “I don’t think so.”
“Then we’ve still got time.” Ace wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me back down next to him. The air in his apartment has cooled—he must still be running the air conditioning, despite the fall temperatures creeping a little lower each day—and it feels unbelievable for my smooth bare skin to slide down under his soft sheets.
We lay in silence for a few minutes, nothing but the sound of our breathing evident in the room, and I think Ace might have fallen asleep again.
Then he says, “I shouldn’t be doing this with you, but I can’t help it.”
“Why not?”
“You’re too gorgeous and perfect.”
I laugh softly. “Why shouldn’t you be doing it?”
His arm around my waist tenses, but he presses his lips to the back of my neck, and heat cascades down from where he’s kissing me all the way to my toes.
“I shouldn’t.”
I sigh a little. “That’s not an answer.”
He takes in a deep breath, and I feel his chest press against my back. I wait for the next breath, and the next. I could keep waiting for breaths for the rest of my life, lying like this, and be perfectly happy.
Well—eventually I’d want to roll over and do something else to his sexy, muscled body. But right now….
My heart beats a little harder. I’m careening from utter contentment to a strange fluttering in my chest that makes the back of my neck feel cold even with Ace’s hot breath, his soft lips, against it. My shiver prompts him to answer.
“This kind of….” His voice trails off, and for a split second I think he might say “love.” “This kind of infatuation always ends in heartbreak.” Ace’s voice is a little odd as he says this, not curled so tightly into his happiness. Does he believe what he’s saying?
I turn in his arms so I can look into his eyes, but they’re still closed, so I settle for running a finger down the sharp line of his jaw. “Infatuation?” I say softly.
I don’t want him to tell me that he’s in love with me. I don’t want to tell him that I’m in love with him. That’s not what I’m going for, even if it’s—even if it might be true, on some level.
Ace opens his eyes. I’m swept right up into them, for the first time noticing a green ring like lightning around his pupils.
“You’re not obsessed with me?” He flashes a half-smile that sends electricity running through my fingertips.
I suck in a breath. “A little bit.”
“But?”
“But it’s…it’s….”
“It’s more than that, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
This is as close as I’m going to come to admitting my feelings for him right now, because here it comes—another wave of unease. If this is going to grow any deeper, I need to know what the hell is going on with him. I’m not sure I’m going to like what I find out
Ace doesn’t agree with me out loud, but he does lean in and kiss me, softly, slowly, unlike any other kiss we’ve shared before. When he pulls back, I ask the first question out of the many that are roiling in my mind.
“Where did you go, Ace?”
He raises one eyebrow. “I’m still right here.”
“I mean, before you were here. Before you…came back to New York City.”
His expression goes a little harder. I feel sick. I don’t want to have this conversation, but there’s no other choice. Who the hell knows? This could be the end of it all, right now, if he reacts the way he did last Saturday. One week ago. How can I possibly feel so intense about things after one week?
Because it’s him, says the voice in the back of my mind.
“I was in Italy.”
“Italy?”
“Yes.”
Italy is not one of the places that’s been mentioned on Rainflower Blue. People have suggested everywhere from Seattle to the Middle East, but never Italy.
“Why were you there?”
I keep my tone soothing and soft, not wanting to put the pressure on but wanting him to answer me so we can leave this charged, uncomfortable moment behind.
I have one hand above Ace’s hip, on the hard muscles of his waist, and I feel his body tense.
“Business.”
It’s a lie, and we both know it. If not a full lie, then a half-truth. The way his face has frozen tells me that it was more than business. Much more.
The voice comes again. That doesn’t make him a murderer.
I have a sense that I’m up against some boundary, and if I touch it, this idyllic afternoon will come to a grinding halt.
And maybe it’s stupid, maybe it’s naive, maybe it’s even dangerous…but I can’t let it go.
Not yet.
22
Ace
The instant Carolyn asks me where I was before I came back to New York, my heart clenches within my chest and my hands and feet go cold.
I don’t want to talk about this.
I bite back the urge to get up and leave. It’s almost as strong as the urge to wrap her even more tightly in my arms.
The conversation has already been heading in a direction that makes my heart hammer against my rib cage, even though I’m doing my best to stay calm and relaxed in the cocoon of blankets with Carolyn.
Please, I think. Don’t do this now.
“I’m still right here,” I say, arching an eyebrow and throwing myself into the performance of flirting…which turns out to only be half-false.
She swallows.
“I mean, before you were here. Before you…came back to New York City.”
I have a few options. I can choose not to answer. I can choose to do something else with her—to her—right now. I can get up and leave.
Or I can tell her the truth.
What is it about her that makes me want to tell her the truth more than I want to protect myself? There’s going to be hell to pay for this eventually. What’s the good in starting now?
Because if I lie to her in this moment, I’ll never be able to stop myself. It’ll be too easy.
“I was in Italy.”
Her eyes go wide for a split second while she searches my face.
“Italy?”
“Yes.”
I almost can’t believe that she doesn’t know that already, but I didn’t exactly advertise my new address when I left the city two years ago. Back then, I had no idea I was going to end up in Italy with Elisa. I had no idea what was going to happen to me—to both of us—before I returned to the city.
Carolyn swallows hard. “Why were you there?”
Maybe she does know more than she’s letting on. Maybe she’s digging to see if I have a wife back in Italy that she doesn’t know about. Maybe, like me, she’s been burned before.
But she doesn’t say.
“Business.”
The word comes out with a tone that’s far less convincing than I hoped it’d be, and Carolyn looks away, toward the massive headboard of my bed. When her eyes meet mine again, she’s got a little smile on her face that almost—almost—makes me forget everything we’ve talked about.
“I’m asking way too many questions.”
“I agree with that.”
Carolyn sways her hips underneath my arm, and the movement sends a shock of pleasure straight to my spine, my mind blanking out. Does it matter if she’s prying a little? In the long run, do I care, if it means I can keep my hands on her for a little while longer?
Not today it doesn’t.
On the next sway under the covers, I slide my hand lower, between her legs.
She’s already wet.
We don’t come out from under the covers for another hour.
Carolyn laughs over her plate of sushi, fork halfway between her plate and her lips. “Stop. That can’t be true.”
“Afterward, my entire torso was red. It looked like I’d been slapped by that guy from Harry Potter.”
“Hagrid? The half-giant?” she says,
her voice rising with every word. “Ace Kingsley, I would never have imagined you to be the Harry Potter type.”
“I’m not.” I shrug, then take another sip of miso soup. It’s delicious, and I’m starving after what was essentially an entire day with Carolyn in bed.
When we emerged from the bed, the sheets a complete wreck, she ran naked into the master bathroom and turned on the shower. That evolved from a quick rinse to very nearly another round. I had her wrists pinned against the marble tiling on the wall, hot water rushing over my back and my lips pressed hard against hers, but she turned her head to the side, gasping, a huge smile on her face.
“I want to. But I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
I pressed my lips against the smooth, wet skin of her neck.
“You—oh, my God, Ace,” she groaned. “If we—” She could hardly get the words out, and it was so hot I wanted to turn her around and take her right there. “If we do this again, I’ll be wrecked for a week.”
I pulled back, leaving her with a wicked grin.
She stuck her tongue out at me and soaped up her unbelievable body, rinsed off, then reached for one of the towels on the hooks next to the shower.
“I’m starving.”
“I’m starving for you.”
She eyed my cock, standing straight out from my body under the jets of water, and gave me that same wicked smile right back. “I can see that. But I’m hungry.”
“Sushi?”
“Is that becoming a theme?”
Now I’m looking across the table at her in some hole-in-the-wall place with impeccable service three blocks away from our building. How did we ever start talking about the time I belly-flopped into the pool in front of every girl in the ninth grade? How did she draw that out of me? I’m used to being a little cold, a little aloof, when I’m out with women. All except Elisa.
When her name comes to mind I still feel it—that jagged pain, the wrenching worry—but when Carolyn is in front of me, it’s dull, distant.
Am I using her so that it doesn’t hurt?