Building Faith (Long Beach Series Book 2)

by Dani Matthews

  “You still don't know, Faith.”

  “Then tell me. Share with me what has you so twisted up inside, and we'll work through it together.”

  He releases another sigh before he reaches up and takes both my hands in his. He places a kiss in the center of one of my palms before leading me over to the couch. We sit down side by side, but I immediately turn so that I'm facing him.

  Ace rubs a hand over his face. “This is so much harder than I thought it would be.”

  “Let's start with something you're comfortable talking about. Why don't you tell me about your family and work your way up to what's bothering you,” I suggest.

  He nods, looking slightly relieved and tosses out a company name. “You familiar with it?” he asks as he watches my reaction.

  I mull over his question and nod. “Computer software, right?”

  “Yes.” His eyes hold mine. “My dad owns it.”

  His dad owns... Ace isn't just wealthy, he's rich. “Okay,” I say softly, not wanting to make too much of a deal out of it.

  “My mom comes from old money, and she's always been involved in charitable organizations—that's her place of expertise. She's involved in a lot of worldwide organizations, and it keeps her busy. I grew up with nannies, and as an only child, I was lonely and bored. Don't get me wrong, my parents love me, but we're not an overly affectionate family,” he explains.

  I nod, my heart aching for the lonely little boy he must have been.

  “As I grew older, I got bored easily. All my friends were wealthy, and it was always the same old shit,” he says dryly. “My daddy bought me this, or my daddy bought me that. Everything was a competition as to who had what. I just grew bored with it, and by the time I reached my pre-teens, I was desperate to know what life was like on the other side.” His lips tighten and he stares at the carpet on the floor, avoiding my eyes. “I was thirteen when I decided I wanted to go to camp. A real camp where regular kids stay for weeks and play games and do outdoor activities. I begged and begged to go,” he says as his lip curls in a way that I've never seen on him before.

  This is where his life changes, and I'm silent as I wait. I won't push. My hand feels empty, and I want to reach out to him so badly, but I don't want him to feel like I'm pitying him in any way. I already have a feeling as to where this story is going, but I need him to be able to tell me in his own words.

  He still won't look at me, and he grimly continues. “My parents offered to send me to a camp where the rich and elite go, but I was adamant on going to a regular camp with regular kids. They finally signed me up for a six week camp out of exasperation since I wouldn't let the idea go. So I got to see how the other kids lived. Only it wasn't all I thought it would be cracked up to be. At first it was fun. I made new friends—real friends. They didn't care where I came from, they just wanted to have fun and enjoy the summer.”

  In the corner of my eye, I see his fists clench and his right knee starts to jiggle slightly, betraying his agitation. I wish there was a way to ease the pain that these memories are causing. All I can do at this point is simply let him talk and listen.

  “Then, she set her sights on me, and I never had a chance,” he says flatly.

  My own fists curl as I fight the urge to touch him. He's still not looking at me, and I can tell he's trying to separate himself from me as he tells his story. I'll let him. For now.

  “She was a camp counselor, probably twenty or so. She kept finding ways to be near me, or to touch my hand or arm. I didn't think much of it. I mean, I was aware of girls and all that, but I was paying attention to the girls my own age, not the ones that were supposed to be trustworthy adults.” Disgust flickers across his features, and he reaches up to run a hand over his face. “I was always taller than the other kids my own age. I'm just naturally built, and I never had to work hard to buff up, even at that age. A lot of people mistook me for fifteen or sixteen rather than thirteen.” He shakes his head, his eyes finally flickering to mine. “She knew my age, but she didn't care.”

  I meet his gaze unflinchingly and wait.

  He looks away, lips flattening in a line before continuing. “She got me alone one night after a campfire. I realized then and there that she was interested in me, but I wasn't into her. She had a good body, but she wasn't all that pretty—just forgettable. She didn't have anything I wanted, but she kept pressing against me and touching me.” He abruptly moves forward, dropping his elbows on his knees, his face hidden in hands where I can't see it. “I tried to resist at first, but she got her hand down my pants and my body liked what she was doing. I...” He shakes his head in his hands, growling low with anger and obvious shame. “I let her get me off. When she was finished, I felt like shit. I was disgusted, and I walked away without a word. I contemplated going to one of the other counselors, but I could just imagine what my dad would say. He'd laugh at me for not enjoying my first sexual experience, and that would be the end of it.”

  He scrubs his hands over his face. “That summer, she continued to get me alone. I didn't know what to do, I'd never been in a situation like that before. I was bigger, I could have easily pushed her to the ground to get away, but I didn't want to cause trouble. I liked the camp, I just didn't like her. But then she'd do stuff to my body that felt good, and it always ended the same way. I'd resist, and she'd get me warmed up and eventually she’d get her way. She touched me, blew me, and eventually we moved on to sex. I came home from camp feeling dirty and ashamed. That summer changed me, and I never asked to go back to camp again.”

  “Look at me,” I say softly. His head drops in shame for a moment, and then he reluctantly turns to look at me, resignation in his eyes. “Hey,” I say, reaching out to grasp his hand. “You were just a boy. You can't blame yourself, Ace.”

  “I was physically stronger than her. You want to know why I didn't push her off me before things got too heated?” he asks, his eyes flashing. “I'll tell you why, because there was a sick part of me that knew how it would end, and I was looking forward to another orgasm. I should have been stronger.” His face twists with pain. “She used my body against me, got me to crave what she could do to me even though I knew it was wrong. Afterwards, I always felt so disgusted and ashamed of myself. I just...”

  “She was the one that was wrong, Ace. She manipulated you.”

  He looks at me with raw, bitter eyes. “I know she did. I know, Faith. But that summer haunts me in ways that you can't imagine. You don't even know the worst of it.”

  I squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Tell me the worst of it, and we'll deal with it together.”

  He swallows and looks down at our clasped hands. “The last night of camp, she had another female camp counselor join us,” he says in a deadened tone.

  My heart constricts, and I fight back tears as I think of the boy that felt he couldn't say no. They'd used him so carelessly with no idea of the emotional damage they'd inflicted upon him. “I'm so sorry,” I whisper.

  “I don't want to go into details, okay? I just...you know it all now, that's what matters.”

  “Okay,” I say, keeping my tone soft.

  He draws in a deep breath and exhales, the tension slowly leaving his body. “After that summer, I avoided girls for a while. I was so fucked up in the head. My self-esteem went to shit with all the guilt from everything I'd done that summer. It got to the point that if I woke up with a boner, I'd break out in a cold sweat and feel sick to my stomach. I didn't have my first and only girlfriend until I was fifteen.”

  He glances at me, now more willing to meet my eyes. “I could pass as a senior with my build, so she was two years older than me. I met her through a friend that went to another school. She was pretty cool and not like the rich girls I was used to. I warmed up to her fast and began to want things that most teenagers want. I wanted to touch her and hold her. That kind of stuff. She was into sex, though. I was falling hard for her, so I hid my aversion to it. She kept talking about how she'd experienced being tied down once
with an ex.”

  He shakes his head. “Man, she was so young to be already messing with that kind of stuff. In the end, I trusted her enough to try it out with her, though. The idea of having her tied to her bed excited me, because I knew I'd be in full control. She wouldn't be able to use my body against me or control me with her hands tied. I liked it, a lot.” He grimaces and gives me a wry look. “We messed around with restraints most of the time, but once in my car, she tried to go down on me, and I couldn't get it up. I was so fucking embarrassed, and I thought she was going to breakup with me, but she didn't. A few days later her parents were out late, and she called me over to mess around. I got her all tied up, and I was good to go. I realized then and there that I was messed up when it comes to allowing anyone to touch me below the waist. I became fascinated with the fact that some women like being restrained, and it grew into a bit of an obsession.” He gives me an amused look. “Not at that age, though. It grew more into an obsession once I hit college. The girl that introduced me to it cheated on me after two months, and the breakup hurt me enough to keep me from messing around with anyone else until I graduated.”

  He's more relaxed now, and I look at him curiously. “Weren't there ever any girls that were scared to be tied up? Especially with a stranger? I mean, you said the girl you dated for two months was your first and only girlfriend. These were now one-night stands, correct?”

  “Yeah, in the beginning there were some that were excited by the idea and had seen me around enough to know I wasn't a danger to them. Then, there were others who were uncomfortable with the idea of being restrained, so I'd fuck them in a position that kept them from touching me. It didn't take long for me to gain a reputation. All it takes is for one girl to experience a night with me and to share the details with a friend. I know it sounds cocky, but if a friend can vouch for the kinky guy obsessed with restraints—the friend is more likely to want to experience it, too.”

  He smiles wryly. “You'd be surprised how many women secretly have that kind of fantasy. They used me to live out their fantasy, and I got to have sex the way I like it. Very few resist the idea of it these days. The last time I had sex that didn't involve restraints was...” He hesitates slightly before saying, “Two years ago, I think.”

  It's hard hearing him talk about sex with other women, and yes, my stomach is churning with jealousy. Yet, these are things I need to know, so I try to tamp it down. “Can you tell me what you don't like? I mean, I know the obvious, but I need to know so I don't try to do anything with you that you're not comfortable with.”

  Ace is silent for a moment. “I don't like being jerked off or gone down on. I've never allowed it since camp.” His eyes meet mine. “I want that with you, I really do. I just...”

  “It's okay; I understand. You're not ready, and you might never be. What else bothers you?”

  “I can tell you this, I'll never let you ride me. Ever. It's just not going to happen. That position has been ruined for me permanently. The idea of you going down on me excites me, but you ever being on top makes me feel sick,” he says honestly.

  “I promise I'll never try that,” I assure.

  He grimaces. “I probably should have confided in someone after it happened. Maybe if I'd talked about it and not held it in so long, I wouldn't have such an aversion to some of those things. My need to be in control has become a part of me. I don't know how to give that up.” His eyes lock on mine. “I think that's something you'll be able to help me with, because I do trust you, Faith. I want things with you that I've never wanted before. I definitely don't want you restrained.”

  “But if that's—”

  “You don't get it, Faith,” he cuts me off gently. “I'm saying it turns me on thinking of you sprawled on my bed without restraints. There's still a part of me inside that wants regular sex. I can have a regular sex life with you, I know I can. I just need to ease into it slowly.”

  I don't want him to feel like he has to shut down the part of himself that he's become—the side that craves it. However, now is not the time to argue over it. I nod in understanding. “Sex where my hands can't reach you. Like...” I bite my lip, struggling to name off a position.

  “Like from behind. Or against the wall. On all fours. Bent over the couch. In the shower—your hands wrapped around the shower head—”

  “Oh my God, you've thought a lot about this haven't you!” I burst out with a laugh while my face flushes slightly.

  He grins wickedly. “Angel, you're in my dreams every night. What do you think?”

  “I think I can handle that,” I say as I boldly meet his gaze.

  Heat warms his eyes, and then it slowly flickers out and regret shines in them. The suddenness of it confuses me until he speaks. “I shoved you,” he says remorsefully. “I'm so sorry, Faith. It was just a gut reaction. I didn't know I'd react—”

  I cut him off with a gentle finger pressed against his lips. I peer into his face, making sure he's listening. “That I completely understand, and you don't have to apologize, Ace. I get the whole gut reaction thing. For weeks, if anyone came up behind me without me hearing them first, I freaked out. In the beginning, I'd go into screaming fits because Justin attacked me from behind. It would throw me into flashbacks. Don't apologize for reacting instinctively. Now I know what I can do that you'll like and what not to do. It's forgotten,” I assure.

  He looks torn, like he wants to argue with me, but in the end he wraps his warm hand around my wrist and brings my fingers back to his lips to press a tender kiss to them. His eyes then drop, and he pulls my hand away from his face so that he can open his fingers and reveal the hummingbird tattoo. He studies it intently before his eyes lift to mine. “Why a hummingbird?”

  I know better than to mention Logan's name, so I keep my explanation simple. “I was told they're a symbol of surpassing hardships.” I stare at the tattoo, my lips curving into a soft smile. “The beauty of it will always remind me that there's hope. That life can be beautiful, I just simply have to reach out and choose to make it happen.” I lift my eyes to his and allow them to consume me with their unwavering stare. “You taught me that. When I look at this tattoo, I think of you as well. Without you, I don't think I would have embraced what true freedom means. You opened my eyes to everything I was blinded to.”

  Emotion flickers across his features. “Sounds cheesy as shit, but I think we were always meant to meet each other. You touch me in here,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest, “in ways that no one else has. That empty feeling is disappearing,” he says a bit gruffly.

  The fact that he would admit even that much to me lets me know that he cares deeply for me. I reach for him, needing to kiss him. As his lips touch mine, I realize I have fallen head over heels for this man. I'm in love him. I can only hope and pray that love will be enough to keep us together, because I know the road ahead will be anything but easy.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Faith

  The next few days passed by pleasantly with no stress or drama. On Sunday, Ace had taken me out of town with no set destination. We simply picked a direction and followed the road, stopping whenever something caught our eye. It was a fun day of exploring the attractions that were beyond Long Beach. Unfortunately, Monday turned out to be a busy day for Ace, and all we were able to do was text message a couple times throughout the day.

  Today is Tuesday, and we have a date. I check the chicken that's keeping warm in the oven as I wait for Ace to arrive. We plan on having dinner here at the apartment, and then we're going to a movie later. I'd made chicken cordon bleu and a fruit salad. The dinner rolls are also in the oven keeping warm.

  I quickly set the plates and silverware on the island counter and wish for the millionth time that I had a kitchen table versus just a counter top. It would have been nice to set up something romantic. I'm just positioning the napkins by the plates when I hear a brief knock on the door. I'd left the door unlocked—which is the norm when I know Ace will be over.

 
; The door opens and he walks right in, grinning immediately when his eyes land on me. “Hey, beautiful.” I see that Ace's hair is damp from a recent shower, and he's dressed up a little for our outing tonight. He's wearing khaki's that do amazing things to his body and a navy blue shirt that hugs muscles that I am very much familiar with.

  I can't help but smile in reference to his compliment. Up until Ace, I've always been insecure about my looks. I've learned lately that it's impossible to be around him and not feel sexy. Especially when his eyes are always roaming over me appreciatively. They're doing exactly that, right this second, as they take me in from head to toe. I'm dressed in the white dress I'd almost worn to the club last week. It's sleeveless with a sweetheart neckline while the skirt falls almost to my knees. I'd finished off the outfit with a pair of tan, strappy wedges.

  “I love white on you,” Ace murmurs as he sets a paper bag on the counter top and pulls me into his arms.

  “I thought you liked yellow,” I argue playfully as I hug him back.

  “I like anything you wear.” His eyes turn devilish. “Especially matching lingerie. I think I've got a new obsession for cute, little, yellow flowers on white,” he says in reference to the lingerie I'd worn last Tuesday.

  I arch an eyebrow. “You sure about that? You haven't seen what else I've bought. There could be something else that might interest you more than that simple set.”

  Sexual hunger flashes in his eyes. “Why don't you show me, and I'll let you know what I like best.”

  My lower belly quivers as sexual tension swirls around us. Since we'd talked on Saturday, all we've done is kiss. There haven't been any heavy makeout sessions, and I've been dying for more. I get the feeling he's holding back because he wants me to set the pace of our relationship. Now that I know about his past, I've been wondering if I should hold off on taking things to the bedroom—which is exactly where I want to be with him now that we've opened up more to each other. His honesty with me makes me feel closer to him. He let me in and showed me parts of himself that he hasn't shown anyone else. I want to give him everything I have in return. Unfortunately, I have a little bit of hesitation now that I know what he's been through.