by BK Rivers
“Get over here,” he says, tossing the pillow off my feet and body. His eyes flicker to mine and his normal glacier blue eyes darken to a foggy blue. But when he blinks, the color fades and he reaches across the couch to pull me closer. What can I say, my body still hasn’t received the message about us being just friends. I curl into him, resting my head on his chest while his arms drape over me. Friends, Stacey. Just friends. Ha! Friends who cuddle?
“What did you tell her?” he asks, resting his chin on my head. “You’re obviously torn about the offer.”
Since we’re friends, I have no idea what to do with my free hand. Do I let it rest limply at my side or do I drape it over his chest and let it settle where it lands? My hand raises on its own, but I force it down to rest on my thigh. Ace has other plans apparently, since his hand just took mine and placed it on his firm stomach. A few inches lower and I’d get up close and personal with Ace Jr., or whatever he calls it.
Deep breath. Or maybe I should just breathe normally because my head is starting to tingle.
“I asked her to let me think about it,” I say, returning to the conversation. “She’s leaving in two weeks and wants me to tell her my decision tomorrow.”
“Do you want the job?” Ace’s fingers trace circles on the back of my hand and I have to close my eyes tightly to talk myself down from doing something really stupid. Instead, I shrug and release a heavy sigh.
“Yes, but no. If I say yes, then I’m stuck running a bookstore forever. And I don’t even know if I want to stay here in Warner.”
Ace’s hand stops moving over mine. “And if you say no?”
“Then I have to hunt for a job or go back home to Phoenix.”
“You signed a six-month lease.”
I laugh at the situation. “Yeah, well, I doubt you could hold me to the lease considering the house is currently uninhabitable.”
“Do you want to go back to Phoenix? Have you always planned to leave here?” His fingers once again begin to move across my hand, lulling me into a relaxed state.
“I haven’t really thought about it much. I only moved here to be closer to Reggie, but it’s not the same now that she’s married and lives an hour away. I guess I didn’t realize it would never be the same since we’re no longer roommates. I really miss her.”
“Would you stay if I changed my mind about you sharing the house with someone else?” I tilt my head up, trying to determine if he’s serious. When he glances down, everything is so clear in his eyes—sadness, hurt, and fear. I wish it could be me who erases it all and gives him the love he so clearly needs. “Do you still want that girl to move in with you?” The softness of his voice alone feels like a kiss. Like the words floated from his lips and settled on my cheek like the gentle fluttering from the wings of a butterfly.
If I rose up two inches, our lips would meet. They’d softly touch like we were testing the waters to see if proceeding further is safe. I’d feel the kiss in my toes and my heart would beat against my ribs. It would be magic.
But we’re just friends.
The moment is interrupted by a whiny growl from Duke, who is still asleep in the corner of the room. Ace’s arm pulls me closer and the TV distracts me enough that I forget how close we are and how easy it would be to kiss him.
***
Over the next few days, most of our nights consist of sitting together on the couch with Ace’s arm draped over my shoulders. Ha! Like that’s not confusing. And, obviously, I like being a glutton for punishment because each time his hand finds its way to my shoulder, I slide in next to him without question. After we spoke that first night about my job and Julia’s proposal, I fell asleep with the image of Ace’s haunted eyes burned into mine. Tossing and turning the whole night, when Julia arrived at work the next day, I let her know I would accept the job. She was so pleased she jumped up and down like a child and I couldn’t help but join in with her.
Tonight, not wanting to put myself through any more torture by snuggling up to Ace, I’ve dubbed it video game night. I know they enjoy playing some alien hunting thing. It seems pretty straightforward so I’ll join in too. Like peas in a pod, the three of us take our spots on the couch; the only difference tonight are the black game controllers in our hands.
“So I just move this thing to walk and push this button to shoot the gun?” I ask, holding the bulky object in my hand. Ace’s lips curl into a cocky grin as he nods then starts the game. I’m not sure if I’ve ever mentioned my brother to him or Ethan, and for them to think I’ve never held a game controller is laughable. I’m pretty sure ninety percent of the world’s population has held one of these.
“Take that, alien scum!” I shout as I shoot down another grotesque creature. Both Ace and Ethan sit stone still while playing, the only things moving are their fingers and eyes. I, on the other hand, can’t sit still. My hands jerk back each time someone comes up from behind my avatar or shoots at me. When I kill an alien, I practically leap off the couch. I’m pretty much kicking ass and taking names.
By the start of the third game, Ethan turns his entire body toward me and stares at me while I eagerly await the alien ship’s landing.
“I thought you said you never played before,” Ethan says, scowling.
“What’s the matter? Can’t handle being beaten by a girl?” My laugh is partnered with Ace’s chuckle and the hairs on my arms stand on end. His laugh is glorious—deep and guttural—like he saves up each laugh for just the right moment. “I have a brother. I’ve played plenty of Xbox. Just never this game.” My smile falters as Ethan’s face turns down in a frown and I try to hold in my laughter.
“Yeah, well, next time, don’t play so dumb,” he grumbles. “I’m no longer taking it easy on you. Game is on.”
Chapter 24
Ace
It’s been five days since I convinced Stacey to stay here after she left that note. Five. Agonizing. Days. Whenever she’s near, my arms grow brains of their own and find any excuse to touch her or pull her close. My body freaking loves it. My head feels like it’s the ball in a ping-pong match. I thought this game night idea of hers was brilliant. There would be no touching, no close calls with a slip of my lips accidentally finding hers. I could concentrate on the screen in front of me, the game controller in my hand, and my avatar on the screen. Kill aliens. I can do that.
Except when she’s playing. Stacey brings a whole new responsibility to the game, like it’s my job to watch out for her avatar and keep it safe. And then she goes and creams Ethan, jumping enthusiastically off the couch, allowing a sliver of her creamy white skin to show between the hem of her shirt and the top of her shorts. The freaking controller slips from my hands, landing on the carpet with a thud. My fingers twitch to touch her, to feel that slice of smooth skin beneath my hands. My lips long to graze across her midsection, my tongue dances in my mouth, needing a taste.
I’m so screwed.
Yanking the controller off the floor, I stand abruptly, trying desperately to discreetly adjust myself in my sweats, and then toss the game piece in the basket near the TV. I’m so done tonight.
“Duke, kennel,” I say sharply. My tone startles my poor dog and brings Ethan’s and Stacey’s attention to me. “I’m going to bed.” Duke whines then trots across the floor toward my bedroom. Love that dog.
“Dude, one more game,” Ethan says, holding up his controller like a peace offering. If he knew the thoughts running through my mind, he’d understand. The problem isn’t the game, it’s the girl sitting between us who unknowingly threatens the walls I’ve built around my heart. One more day, one more brick crumbles, creating a fissure that will one day make the entire wall tumble to the ground. I can’t afford to lose any more bricks.
I need to be a robot. Turn off the switch that controls emotion and desire. A switch that allows me to go to and from work each day and ignore this magnetic pull I feel toward Stacey.
Another day, another struggle.
In the patrol car today, Kilty earned a
n earful from me about the donuts he eats. I’m biting everyone’s head off and there’s nothing I can do about it except move out or kick her out. And my stupid conscience won’t let me make her leave. And I’m sure as hell not staying in a hotel.
I’m so screwed. Screwed. Screwed.
Ten days into our living situation and I’m a ticking time bomb. I’m not sleeping well because every time my eyes close, all I can see is Stacey’s soft lips and the sway of her hips as she cooks in the kitchen, unaware of her private little happy dance. In my bed, in the dark, my body craves something I haven’t had in so long.
Ethan’s gone for the night, covering a night shift for a coworker, and Stacey’s in the kitchen swaying to some unknown song in her head and stirring something on the stovetop. The shirt she has on is nothing more than a piece of fabric draped over one shoulder, leaving the other bare and totally exposed. If I were a weaker man, I’d step up behind her and run my lips over the bare flesh and leave a mark on her so everyone knew she was mine.
“If you’re just going to stand there, you could at least set the table instead of stare at me all night. It’s kinda creepy.” The flush on Stacey’s cheeks makes me oddly proud. I put it there and it looks damn good on her. But I can’t think like that. And she most definitely isn’t mine. Why that thought ever crept into my brain is beyond me.
I push off the wall and set the table, and then stand next to her at the stove. The pot she’s stirring has some sort of white sauce that’s making my mouth water. It smells almost nutty and most definitely cheesy.
“What’s for dinner?” I ask, leaning closer to the steaming pot.
“Alfredo noodles and chicken parmesan.” Her smile lights up the room and flits across my chest. I want that smile to never fade; it’s a smile free of hurt and loss. It’s a smile I would have had years ago but don’t remember how to make now. The timer on the oven buzzes, startling us both. “Can you pull out the breadsticks before they burn?” she asks, returning to stir the alfredo.
Once dinner is ready, we sit at the table and eat in silence. The sauce and noodles are incredible and the chicken perfectly breaded and moist.
“How did you learn to cook so well?” I ask, groaning through yet another bite. “Everything you make is amazing.”
Stacey’s lips curl into a shy smile and it’s the first time I think she’s ever shown a timid streak. Her brown eyes glance over the table and when she returns her gaze to me, my heart stutters in my chest. It seriously feels like it tripped over a rib, rolled three times, and then picked itself back up. There is nothing about Stacey that is fake—she’s sincere, beautiful, intelligent, and kind. A perfect freaking package and it’s incredibly hard to ignore the draw or the way my body reacts to her when she’s near.
“Mom wasn’t much of a cook, so I learned how as a teenager. I really love good food and enjoy making people happy when I cook for them.” She rolls a noodle across her plate with the fork and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and releases it quickly. “The sounds you make when you eat my food make me really happy.” A flush rises up her neck, settling on her cheeks, and my walls, they’re falling fast, crumbling before my eyes, and it terrifies me.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say when her eyes settle on mine. They’re full of hunger and longing and I have no doubt mine look just the same.
“Don’t look at you like what?” she asks, her voice raspy and shallow.
“Like I’m everything you want.” I stand up, knocking my hip on the table and sending our water glasses tumbling to their sides. Stacey reaches for the glasses, setting them upright. “I told you I wouldn’t kiss you again. So don’t you freaking look at me like it’s all you want. Like it’s all you think about.”
“Ace, I—”
Before she can deny it, I cut her off with one parting blow. “Kissing you was the worst mistake I ever made.”
She rears back like I slapped her instead of burning her with the words I’ve said. Everything inside of me is screaming about how wrong this is. How my words are poison and need to be sucked out before they kill whatever is left of my heart.
“How dare you,” she says, no louder than a whisper. She clenches her jaw, stands up, and begins to clear the table. I want to apologize and beg her for forgiveness, because that kiss was hardly a mistake. If I could find it within myself to be the man she deserves, I would throw myself at her feet and kiss every inch of her body until she understood how she’s turned my world upside down. How I finally feel awake after Marley died.
All of these feelings and realizations scare the shit out of me. I thought I’d closed the door to my emotions five years ago, and since meeting Stacey, the door’s been unlocked and is open a crack. I can see the bright lights behind the darkness I’ve been swimming in for so long, but I don’t know how to move toward the warmth. I don’t know how to let anyone in, and if somehow Stacey were able to be the one to bring me into the light, how do I know I wouldn’t destroy her like I did Marley?
Stacey brushes past me to gather the leftover noodles and sauce at the table, and as she’s covering the bowl with plastic wrap, I step up behind her. A crackle of energy snaps between us and her body stiffens. My hands settle on the counter on either side of her hips, caging her between my arms. Her breathing grows deep and ragged. Mine does the same, but along with it, my heart beats with the force of a ten-pound hammer in my chest.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” I whisper, moving my lips close to her ear so she can hear me. She gasps at my nearness and turns her head just enough that I can see her eyes flutter closed. I lean in closer, my front pressing against her back, and breathe her in. Her normal scent of peaches and lilies is faint, but it’s there along with the smell of the meal she cooked for us.
“I’m sorry.” Another whispered apology floats from my lips, landing on her cheek. She inhales sharply as my nose softly trails a line down the skin near her jaw.
“What are you doing?” Stacey asks, her voice trembling in a hushed whisper. Her shoulders relax as one of my hands moves from the counter to brush her cheek and glide down her arm. My fingers brush over hers and in one quick motion I grab her hand and twist her around to face me.
“Kissing you wasn’t a mistake. Far from it,” I admit, staring down at her pink lips. Her tongue darts out between her lips quickly, encouraging me to give in to what I want so badly.
“Ace, please don’t kiss me again,” Stacey whispers, averting her eyes from mine. A sharp pain stabs my chest, almost like the wind has been sucked from my lungs. I start to slowly push off the counter, but her hands land on mine, holding me in place. “Don’t kiss me unless you mean it. I can’t—”
I mean it. Every cell in my body means it.
My lips descend on hers and something in my chest bursts, flooding my body with raw emotion. My tongue runs along her lips, which finally—finally!—open to me. Her hands move from mine and reach behind my neck, pulling me closer. A low growl escapes as my tongue enters her mouth, seeking out hers. When they touch, my hand snakes around her waist, removing any distance between us. The other hand drags up her back until I reach her neck and then tilt her head so I can plunge deeper into her mouth.
I’ve spent five long years hiding from a woman’s touch and in Stacey I’ve found the key to unlocking the door I closed long ago.
I pause for a breath, lay my forehead on hers, then quickly move my hands down her back, under her ass, and pick her up, wrapping her legs around my waist. My lips crash into hers again, but this time they open as though she’s as hungry as I am. I walk us through the kitchen and into the living room where I sit down on the couch. Stacey rests on her knees, straddling my legs, and when her center drops over me, my body screams out for more. So much more.
Chapter 25
Stacey
When Ace kisses, he kisses with everything he has, with everything he is, and then more. I feel it in my chest, my fingers and toes, and in the way my stomach drops each time his tongue clash
es against mine. Roaming hands skim beneath the hem of my shirt, slide up my back, sending a riot of chills to pebble across my skin. With a flick of his long, thick fingers, my bra is unclasped, letting the girls hang loose. His lips trail down my chin, to my neck, and then fall to my bare shoulder where he nips, kisses, and then devours me like I’m the last meal he’ll ever eat. His warm hand pulls my chest to his, gaining him better access to my shoulder where his kiss grows sharp and persistent.
The feel of his beard, his hungry lips, and the press of our chests has my body aching for more. As his kiss deepens and his fingers dig harder into my flesh, I allow myself to settle farther into him. He’s hard, hot, and pressing exactly where I need him to be. Slowly, I rock my hips against him, tilt my head back and to the right until his mouth finally moves back up my neck.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you right there since I saw you shaking your ass in the kitchen while you were cooking,” he says, his breath hitching as I move against him, aching for the release my body is craving.
“God, you feel so good,” I say, eyes closed and panting. When my eyes find his, they’re dark, his lids are heavy and weighted down with fire and hunger. Ace’s hands move to my hips where he pushes me further into him, gaining the friction I need. Our lips meet once again, crushing and bruising as we both take what we want, what we’ve denied each other since the day we met.
My arms snake around the back of his neck and pull him to me so the kiss breaks. I’m grinding on him, he’s pushing me further down, and when his tongue glides down my neck, a moan tumbles from me, low and slow.
“Let go, sweetheart,” Ace whispers at my ear. His gentle urging only intensifies the ache, and as one of his hands slides up my stomach to cup my breast, my eyes clamp shut, mouth opens in a silent scream. “Shit,” he says, groaning as his hand stills on my breast. I’m shattering, collapsing on top of him, and feel his moist heat spreading through his jeans. For a minute neither one of us says anything, yet my head is resting on his shoulder and his hand hasn’t moved from my right boob.