Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Alaric
The stillness of my room is a lie, masking the storm raging inside me.
My knuckles are white as I grip the edge of the bed. The hum of my therapist’s voice through the phone is steady, the only thing I’ve been clinging to for the past twenty minutes, which is pretty much the entire time since we got back from the Heights Casino.
The second we stepped through the door, I bolted upstairs, ripping off my suit like it was suffocating me. I barely managed to pull on a pair of sweats and a shirt before fumbling to dial her number, my chest heaving as though I’d been holding my breath the entire way home.
My lungs burn, and my head swims, but her voice anchors me, pulling me back from the edge I’d been teetering on since Blackwood laid his hands on me.
“You can be proud of yourself, Alaric,” she reassures me. “You’ve made such fast and amazing progress. It’s perfectly okay that a stranger touching you was so triggering. It’s entirely normal. But the fact that you were able to hold it together in the moment to postpone your reaction? That’s a huge step forward.” I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Breaking down now, after the fact, doesn’t make you weak,” she continues. “It’s a sign of growth. You’re letting yourself process it, and that’s healthy. This is how you heal, by letting yourself feel in a safe environment rather than bottling it up.”
I nod again. Hearing her frame it that way makes the knot of shame in my chest loosen if only a little.
“I couldn’t let myself break,” I mutter. “If I’d… if I’d lost it in front of him, he would’ve hurt her. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“You stayed present, you acted, and you got through it. That takes strength.”
Strength. I huff out a bitter laugh. It didn’t feel like strength when every cell in my body was screaming to bolt, curl into myself, and shut out the world. When Blackwood’s hand gripped my forearm, the world closed in, and it was like I was back there, helpless and exposed.
But I didn’t crumble because Nova was right there. The thought of failing her was louder than the fear.
“Are you breathing like we practiced?” my therapist asks, drawing me back.
I inhale slowly, letting the air fill my lungs, holding it a beat before exhaling. “Yeah. It’s helping.”
“Good. You’ve done well tonight, Alaric. But you’ve pushed through a lot, and it’s natural to feel the weight of it now that you’re safe. I want you to stay close to someone tonight, a friend, or maybe Novalee? You’re not alone, and it’s important you remind yourself of that.”
The knock on the door is soft but hesitant. My head turns toward it, and I feel my chest tighten with a different kind of anticipation. “There’s someone at the door.”
“Your girlfriend?’”
“I hope so,” I murmur into the phone, a weak smile tugging at my lips.
“Good,” she says warmly. “Remember, there is good touch, Alaric. And she would never hurt you. You were brave today. You’ve got this.”
I manage a quiet, “Thank you.”
“Anytime. Call me if you need to. I’m here.”
The line clicks off, and I exhale another slow breath before I call out, “Yes?”
Carefully, the door opens, and Nova peeks in. “Are you okay?”
“I am now. Come in.”
She glides in, holding a purple velvet box, her gaze darting around. I’m glad I channeled my anxiety about the evening into tidying up earlier. The room is clean, the curtains are open, and it smells fresh in here.
“Sorry,” she apologizes. “I just wanted to check on you.”
“Why?”
Seems like I didn’t do as a good job of not letting my panic show as I think I did.
Her green eyes flick up to mine, and she shifts on her feet. “That guy grabbed you, and I was so intimidated by him. He had such a hard grip on my wrist. I didn’t like it at all. And you—”
“It’s fine,” I cut her off, though her doubt is visible the moment the words leave my mouth. She fixes me with her don’t bullshit me look. It’s disarming, as it always has been, and I chuckle. “Fine,” I admit, running a hand through my hair. “It sent me into a spiral. But I called my therapist just now, and it helped a lot. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be, but… I think, and she agrees, it would be good to have someone around tonight.”
“I’d love to hang out with you.” Nova’s face softens, and her lips curve into a small smile. “Or I can go grab Sylus—”
“Trouble,” I interrupt. “If you give me the choice, it will always be you.”
Her cheeks flush a pink shade that matches the dress she’s still wearing. That dress has been driving me insane all night. She’s always been gorgeous, but tonight?
Fucking breathtaking.
“Okay.” She sits down on the bed, the velvet box resting on her lap. “I haven’t had a chance to change yet. I wanted to show you this first, but then I’ll grab some sweats, and we can watch a movie?”
“That sounds perfect,” I agree, nodding toward the box. “What do you have there?”
Her fingers trail over the velvet as her blush deepens. “You said you felt like you died eight years ago and that you missed me.”
I brush a strand of hair that’s fallen forward back behind her ear. “I missed you more than life.”
“Well, I did too.” Her eyes meet mine, shimmering with emotion. “For eight years, I lost myself. I didn’t know what I liked or who I was. I was just… here. But I never stopped thinking about you. Never stopped missing you. Never stopped doing dumb things to feel closer to you again.”
“Like stealing the Koen Lane’s watch?” I huff a laugh. “Because, honestly, that was the best decision you’ve ever made.”
A laugh bubbles out of her, and before I can second-guess myself, my lips find hers in a kiss that’s longer than I’ve managed so far. And her touch is magic—soothing, erasing the frayed edges of the nerves that are still zapping from Blackwood’s unwelcome grip earlier.
Her lips are home.
Way too soon, I break the kiss, and she smiles at me again, almost shy. Then she opens the velvet box, and I’m not sure if I should be impressed or shocked.
Inside are at least fifty watches in organized chaos. But not just any watches. These are high-end, luxury timepieces—Rolexes, Patek Philippes, Cartiers. There’s easily half a million dollars sitting in that box.
“I—” The words get stuck in my throat. “ Whoa. ”
“I told you… I stole some watches over the years.”
I glance at her, one brow raised. “ Some? ”
“Okay, fine. More than some.”
She picks up one watch, turning it over in her hands before holding it out to me. It’s a familiar gold Rolex. My stomach twists as I take it from her, running my thumb across the smooth surface. It’s the same model I used to wear, though this one doesn’t have the scratches across the face that mine did.
“I don’t even know where to start with this,” she murmurs as my gaze flicks between her and the watch. “I told you… I came here when I turned eighteen. After… everything, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t know how to be okay. But I couldn’t stop thinking about all the dreams you had for us here, and I thought maybe if I came here, I’d feel closer to you.”
Her words are a punch to the chest. My dreams. The plans I’d rambled on about when we were teens. She’d clung to them, tried to piece herself together with the scraps I’d left behind.
“But it didn’t feel closer,” she continues. “It felt lonely. Empty. I was lost, Ace, and I had no fucking money. Then I met Annabelle. She was working as a stripper, and she said I could try it. So, I did. I became Glitter. Put on a mask to feel closer to Rosie. Like, if I wasn’t me , maybe I could survive.”
Her words spill out, and I see pain etched into every line of her face. I stay quiet, my grip tightening on the watch, letting her continue.
“There was this night. It was bad… really bad. I felt like I didn’t want to keep going. Then, this business guy came in, booked a private dance. He sat there with the exact same gold Rolex you used to wear. I took it as a sign from you. A sign to keep going. And I don’t know what came over me, but I swiped it.”
She reaches over, her fingers brushing against mine as she gestures to the watch in my hand. “It wasn’t yours, of course, but it was close enough. And I heard your voice in my head. You called me your girl, and it felt like I had you back. Like you were with me again.”
Fuck.
She wasn’t stealing watches for the thrill or the money. She was stealing them to feel close to me, to grasp at the pieces of a life we’d both lost. And I’d been doing the same in my own way, clinging to memories and ghosts, shutting out the world because it was too painful to live in a reality without her.
“I never stopped,” she admits. “Because every time I did it, it felt like I had a piece of you back. Like I wasn’t so alone.”
I stare at the watch in my hand.
God, this is so fucked-up.
We’re so fucked-up. And yet, here we are, sitting together in this room, against all odds.
“You’ve always been my girl,” I promise. “Always.” Her lips tremble as she smiles, and I press a quick peck to them, pulling the Rolex on my wrist. “Show me how you did it. How you stole all of those watches.”
Thinking that she did this while stripping is the sexiest thing ever.
The sadness in Nova’s eyes makes room for mischief. “You want a lap dance?”
Hell yes.
“If that’s how you did it.”
She quirks a brow, her smile turning sly. “You okay with me sitting on your lap?”
“Just keep your hands on my shoulders to start…” I swallow hard, my pulse already picking up. “I think we’ll be good.”
She places the velvet box carefully on the floor, then stands and adjusts her dress, clearly trying to figure out how to straddle me with it on, but the fabric is too tight. She huffs, turns her back to me, and glances over her shoulder. “Unzip me?”
Jesus.
My pulse spikes again, nerves and heat flooding my blood. This isn’t what I meant when I suggested this, but there’s no way I’m saying no to Nova losing her clothes. “Uh… yeah. Sure.”
I reach for the zipper, the tips of my fingers brushing against her back as I slide it down slowly. The hum of the zipper fills the space, and she wiggles free, letting the pink dress drop to the floor as a pool of fabric. She steps out of it gracefully, leaving her in nothing but a tiny thong.
When she turns back to face me, my breath catches. Every dip, every curve of her body, is breathtaking. I knew her body by heart when we were younger, but this… this is something else entirely. This isn’t the girl I memorized. This is a woman, confident and impossibly stunning. My mouth waters just looking at her.
She smirks, clearly noticing the effect she’s having on me, and steps closer. “Like what you see?”
“More than you know.”
She comes to straddle me, and her sweet scent floods my senses. The second she settles on me, I feel the hard press of my cock against her, and fuck, it’s impossible to hide.
“I usually start with a good, long dance. To distract them. Keep their eyes on my chest and their blood away from their brain.”
“It’s absolutely working,” I mutter, my gaze flicking down to her breasts before returning to her face. She giggles, and it’s the sweetest, sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” I whisper, my hands instinctively moving to her hips, my thumbs drawing circles on her hipbones. “Even more than I remember.”
Her expression softens, and she leans in to kiss me, her lips brushing against mine with a tenderness that makes my chest ache. It’s the kind of kiss that soothes every frayed nerve, erasing the tension still lingering from earlier.
“You do that with your clients?”
“Nope. That one’s for my personal VIPs.” She kisses me again, and I let myself sink into her, my hands steadying her against me.
But when we part again, my gaze snags on the graze on her arm, then the scar etched along her right shoulder. My fingers brush over it softly. She stiffens for a second, then she lets out a breath and leans into my touch.
“Is this… from the crash?” I ask, almost afraid of the answer.
Her smile fades, replaced by something quieter, heavier. “From when I pulled Rosalee and… you… out of there.”
The world tilts beneath me, and I can barely breathe past the weight of it.
She risked herself to save us.
She hurt herself saving me.
I think I’m going to be sick, and because of that, I stay silent for too long. I can practically see the wall going up in her eyes.
“You think it’s ugly.”
I stare at her, stunned. “What?”
“The scar.” She’s trying to sound indifferent, but I can hear the vulnerability underneath. “You think it’s ugly.”
“No,” I rasp, shaking my head. “Nova, no .” I take her face in my hands, needing her to hear this— feel this. “You’re… God, you’re so fucking beautiful it hurts sometimes.”
Her eyes soften, and the wall I watched going up falls again.
“You saved me.” I let my finger glide over the scar. “And I’ll be forever grateful for that.” When she leans back, my gaze catches on a tattoo on her hipbone. A red Ace of Hearts inked into her skin. I trace my thumb over it, making her shudder. “When did you get this?”
Her cheeks tint pink, matching the dress now lying forgotten on the floor. “When I came to Vegas. It was one of the first things I did with my own money. I wanted you close.”
Something inside me snaps at her words. The thought of her carrying that part of me with her, even when she thought I was gone, undoes me. My hand reaches up, cupping the back of her head as I pull her down for a kiss—harder, deeper this time. She gasps, and I take the opportunity to slide my tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweetness. She smells like heaven, but she tastes even better, like candy, everything I’ve ever craved.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathing hard, she whispers, “I’m sorry you didn’t get all my firsts, Ace. I’m sorry I broke that promise.”
I chuckle softly. “I’m glad you didn’t wait for me.”
She pulls back, her green eyes searching mine. “But you’re my first I love you. ”
My brows furrow as I take her in. We’d never said I love you when we were teens. I hated myself for not saying it back then, for being too scared, too stupid. But I’d loved her.
God, I’d loved her since the moment her sassy mouth told me her name.
“I love you, Ace. I’ve loved you since I knew what love is. And I’ll love you for the rest of my life. I hated myself for not telling you then, but I love you .”
“ I love you, ” I shoot back. “I did then, and I never stopped. I never will.”
My lips brush hers again, this time with just a whisper of a kiss. I barely feel it before I need more—before the space between us becomes unbearable. The taste of her, the feel of her, it’s like coming home to a place I thought was lost forever.
She’s everything.
My past.
My present.
My-fucking-future.
I feel it in my chest in the way my heart beats too hard, and my breath stutters like my body doesn’t know how to keep up with this. With her.
“You’re daring.” My thumb traces the curve of her cheekbone. “You’re wild, and you’re trouble.” My thumb brushes her lower lip, and a shiver rolls through me as she exhales shakily. “Perfect for me.”
She seems to recognize what I once told her because her eyes shine, tears brimming but not falling. Fuck, I want to kiss them away. I want to press my lips to every inch of her, to make up for every lost second, every stolen year.
She slowly lifts her hand so damn carefully, like she’s afraid I might bolt. And maybe I will. Maybe I’m afraid too. Because wanting her was never the problem. But touching her again? Letting her touch me?
I force myself to stay still. To let it happen. To let her happen.
Her fingertips hover near my hand on her cheek, and I nod once in a tight motion. She places her hand over mine, and I exhale shakily.
It’s the smallest thing, but it’s enough to splinter something inside me.
“You’re perfect for me, too,” she whispers on a breath.
I was.
I will be.
Her smile turns sly. “But you’re not very good at keeping track of your things, are you?” she teases, and it takes my brain a second to catch up when she holds up the Rolex. The watch I was wearing is now on her wrist.
My mouth falls open, and she grins, smug and beautiful.
God help me. I’ve never loved her more.
“You little minx,” I murmur, grinning as I let my hands find her sides, my thumbs skimming over her ribs, and then I tickle her. I need to hear her laugh. I need that sound—something untainted, something light, something that reminds me of who we used to be before the world took us apart.
She squeals, squirming, her laughter bubbling up and spilling into the air between us. The sound is pure sunlight in a world I thought had gone dark. She wriggles against me, her giggles shaking her whole body, and holy fuck, the way her tits bounce with the motion is enough to make my cock twitch in response.
“Ace, stop!” she gasps between breaths, her hands clutching at mine to fend me off, so I halt my assault. “Normally, people aren’t allowed to touch.”
My breath is still uneven as I answer, “People aren’t allowed to touch me either.”
She laughs at that, a little breathless. “And what about me? Am I allowed?”
The moment shifts.
Her eyes flicker, catching the hesitation I can never seem to hide. I swallow hard, every instinct screaming at me to pull back, to put distance between us before I get swallowed whole.
But I don’t.
“I want to.” God, I want to.
Her lips part like she wasn’t expecting that.
“I want you to touch me everywhere, as long as you want that,” she whispers in return.
Something in me breaks. I feel it snap, right along the fault lines where she left a scar, and fuck, it’s the best kind of pain. The kind that reminds me I’m still alive.
I don’t waste a second, closing the distance like I can’t help myself anymore, like there’s no stopping this, no stopping us. I pull her mouth to mine. She kisses me like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she doesn’t hold on tight, and I kiss her back like I’m drowning, and she’s the only thing keeping me afloat.
It’s messy, desperate, a clash of mouths and hands and breath.
My hands move without thought, sliding over her hips, her waist, up to the swell of her breasts. Tentatively and hesitantly, I let my fingers explore her until she whimpers into my mouth, and I fucking lose it.
I grip her tighter. Pull her closer. My lips trail down her throat, her collarbone, and lower. The sounds she makes go straight to my fucking cock, and I’m losing my grip on what’s too much, what’s too fast.
Her fingers twitch on my shoulders, and I know she wants to bury them in my hair the way she used to.
“You can touch my head,” I murmur against her skin, my lips brushing the words over her sternum.
She hesitates for a second, then concedes, letting her fingers slide softly through my strands. Her grip tightens a little as I look up at her.
“Good?” I don’t even recognize my own voice. It’s too raw, too hoarse.
Fuck, I haven’t done this in years. Since her .
“Amazing.” She reaches down to tug at my shirt. “Can we… take this off?”
I don’t move at first. Not because I don’t want to, but because I need a second. I need to ground myself.
I’m okay. This feels good.
I reach behind my neck and tug the fabric over my head, tossing it aside. Her eyes rake over my chest, and the way she looks at me like I’m something worth worshiping makes my pulse pound in my ears.
“Tell me to stop if this gets too much, okay?” She bites her lip as she places her palms flat on my shoulders again.
Her hands shake a little, but fuck, so do mine.
I want this.
But what if I fuck it up? What if this isn’t enough, or worse—too much?
“I don’t want this to stop.” I slide my hands up her thighs, my thumbs brushing over her soft skin. “God, I want you. More than I’m scared of it, but—”
Her hips shift, her heat pressing against me, and a groan tears from my chest before I can stop it.
“But what?”
“Keep your hands there, okay?” I glance at her grip on my shoulders. I need that—need to feel her steadying me. Need to know I won’t fucking shatter the second she touches me back.
“And… I need you to know I haven’t been with anyone since you. So, I’m going to come like a two-pump chump,” I murmur, my fingers hovering at the edge of the lace of her thong as my breath comes in shallow bursts.
“It’s okay,” she says softly, misreading my awe for hesitation. “We don’t have to rush this.”
Rush this?
I let out a breathless, almost disbelieving chuckle. “Trouble, this has been in the making for almost a decade. Sixteen-year-old Ace would be so proud right now.”
“Idiot.” She giggles, the sound a fucking balm, making a smile spread on my lips. But her laugh becomes a soft gasp as my hand slips beneath the lace, pulling it to the side so my fingertips can brush over her soft, damp heat.
Fuck.
She whimpers softly, her hips jolting at the touch, and I swear, I see stars. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. A groan rumbles in my chest as I drag my fingers over her slit.
“You’re wet,” I state like an idiot, surprised, as my fingers glide over the slickness between her thighs. “For me?”
I haven’t even done anything yet.
I barely trust myself to move, barely trust that this is real, but fuck—she’s so soft, so warm, so unbelievably ready for me, and it’s short-circuiting my goddamn brain.
“Yes, for you .” It’s a whisper wrapped in need. Her lips curl into a breathless smile, and a chuckle escapes on a shaky pant. “Ace, you’re driving me crazy over here.”
I am?
Fuck.
She’s driving me crazy too.
I swallow hard, trying to grasp some thread of control, but it slips through my fingers like the wetness coating them. My fingers glide through her arousal, circling her clit, testing, remembering. Her hips jerk at the motion, a broken sound escaping her lips. God, she’s still as responsive as I remember—every little twitch and moan pulls me deeper into her.
“You feel like heaven,” I murmur, my voice barely audible over her ragged breaths. My words make her shudder, and her hips rock instinctively against my hand, seeking more. Her need, her trust—it’s everything. I’m desperate to give her what she wants, what she deserves.
Her head falls back, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her throat bared, pulse hammering. And I can’t stop myself. My mouth is on her before I even register moving, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses along the delicate skin between her breasts and tasting the heat of her, feeling her heartbeat thud against my lips.
I trace the curve of one breast with my tongue, savoring every fucking second of this. The way she arches into me, the way she shivers when I drag my teeth over her soft skin. A keening moan spills from her lips, and I swear to God, it does something to me. Something unhinged.
Her taste, her scent, the way she moves beneath me like I’m the only thing that exists—it’s intoxicating. I’m drunk on her.
My free hand steadies her as my fingers press deeper, finding that spot that used to make her shatter. Her reaction is instant. Her thighs tremble around me, and her hips move frantically, chasing the sensation like she needs it more than air.
“Ace,” she gasps out, my name not just a word, but a plea, a confession, a fucking surrender.
I growl low in my throat, the sound vibrating against her skin as I take her nipple into my mouth, sucking gently before biting down. Her cry is sharp, raw, and utterly beautiful. Her body clenches, her muscles locking up as she shatters around me.
I don’t stop, I can’t.
I draw it out, my fingers still working her, my mouth still claiming her, until she’s gone, lost in it, riding my hand with reckless abandon. Her hips buck wildly, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps, her hands scrambling at my shoulders and hair like she doesn’t know what to hold on to.
I know the feeling.
“You’re so perfect,” I whisper against her skin, the words a truth I’ve carried with me for years.
My lips trail slow, reverent kisses over every inch of her I can reach. My heart pounds, my cock throbbing almost painfully against her thigh, but I don’t move. I don’t rush. Because this isn’t just about me. It never was.
Right now, all that matters is her—seeing her like this, undone, knowing I did that, and she’s letting me.
Her tremors subside, her breath warm and erratic against my neck as she melts into me. I stroke her back in slow, soothing circles, kissing her temple as she clings to my shoulders.
And I don’t mind one bit.
She pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, and fuck, she’s wrecked—flushed cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-stung, green eyes dark with lingering heat. I swear I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
“Take off your sweats.” Her voice is soft but sure, edged with something like anticipation. But there’s a flicker of hesitation, too, like she’s offering, not demanding as if she needs me to meet her halfway.
A fresh wave of desire slams into me, but it wars with the hesitation lodged deep in my ribs. I sit up, muscles coiled tight, and she shifts with me.
She rests a hand on my chest, the heat of her palm sinking into my skin. Then, slowly—so fucking slowly—she drags it lower over my ribs and stomach until her fingers catch on my sweats’ waistband.
My breath locks in my throat.
I should help her. I should shove the damn things off like I want this as bad as I do. But the moment she hooks her fingers into the fabric, my pulse jackhammers, and I realize—
She’s the first person to touch me like this in almost a decade.
She must sense it, the hesitation I can’t mask, because she doesn’t rush. Instead, she traces a featherlight touch over the waistband, like she’s letting me make the final move. Like she’s saying, It’s okay. Take your time.
Something in my chest pulls tight.
But I don’t want time.
Not anymore.
I exhale sharply and lift my hips, shoving the waistband down in one swift motion, freeing myself.
The cool air is nothing compared to the heat of her gaze.
Her lips part slightly, her breath hitching as her eyes lower, taking in every inch of me. My cock is thick, hard, aching, the tip flushed and leaking against my stomach. And she just watches.
She drags her fingers along my thigh first, skimming higher, not touching my cock yet. Her hesitation is deliberate, like she’s savoring this—like she’s making sure I want it.
Fuck, I want it.
“Yes?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.
I swallow, my body wound so fucking tight I feel like I might snap. My hands fist in the sheets, trying to hold on to the last shred of control.
She doesn’t press. She waits.
“Yes,” I rasp, the word breaking free on a strangled breath.
Her fingers wrap around the base of my cock, soft, tentative, and my entire body shudders.
Holy shit.
She tilts her head, watching me like she’s fascinated by every tiny reaction. Then, keeping her grip light, she glides the head of my cock through her wetness, coating me in her heat, letting me feel just how ready she is.
A strangled groan rips from my throat, and my hips jerk instinctively, chasing the sensation. My hands fly to her waist, holding her steady.
She licks her lips like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me, savoring every damn second of my unraveling.
I feel her shift so the head of my cock presses against her entrance, just barely, just enough to tease. And I’m shaking. Fucking shaking.
I try to wait. Try to let her control the pace. Try to be patient.
But then—
Something inside me snaps.
With a growl that barely sounds human, I grab her hips and drive myself into her with one deep thrust.
The sound she makes is half a gasp, half a broken moan, her fingers clutching my shoulders like she was expecting the hesitation, not the fire.
I don’t give her time to adjust. I can’t. Because the second I’m fully inside her, with her heat wrapped around me and body molding to mine—it’s over. My control is fucking gone.
Her nails dig into my skin, her hips jerking against me, meeting me, taking me deeper, like she doesn’t want slow either.
And God help me, I don’t think I’ll survive this.
“Nova…” Her breasts press against my chest, and her heart hammers in time with mine.
“You feel so good,” she pants out.
“I’m not going to last,” I warn while my grip on her hips tightens, trying to keep her pace steady, but it’s no use.
She’s too much—too perfect, too beautiful, too everything I’ve ever wanted but thought I couldn’t have.
“Then let go for me.” Her words undo me, and with one last roll of her hips, I’m gone. My release rips through me, leaving me trembling and gasping as I bury my face in her neck, holding her as tightly as I dare.
My ears are ringing when I come back to earth, but Nova’s murmured words break through the noise. “I love you.”
I try to catch my breath while her fingers brush through my hair.
“I love you, too, but fuck, that was disappointing.”
God, she’s never going to have sex with me again.
“Nothing about you could ever be disappointing.”
The knot in my chest loosens enough to allow me to breathe again.
We collapse onto the bed together, her body tucked against mine, and I don’t feel trapped. I don’t want to escape this.
I crave it.
Crave her.
“Need more of you,” I murmur into her hair, breathing in her candy scent.
“Need more of you, too,” she whispers as she shifts off me, making me pull out, but she’s still close enough for her breath to brush my neck. “Give me your hand.”
I lift it slowly, hesitant. She takes it gently, pressing it between her hands, her warmth seeping into my skin. Then, she moves, guiding my hand with hers, sliding down over my chest.
Her fingers intertwine with mine, featherlight, barely there—her touch a whisper against my skin as she leads me over the ridges of my stomach, the curve of my ribs as if she’s mapping me out, memorizing me through the bridge of our joined hands.
The contact is so soft it undoes me.
And yet, it burns.
“Trouble,” I rasp, my pulse hammering as she keeps guiding me, keeps touching me. And I don’t know if I want her to stop or never stop.
She doesn’t pull away. Her fingers drift lower, skating over every scar, every place I once swore no one would touch. Each pass feels like a match striking against the ice that’s kept me locked away.
Her fingers press a little harder, tracing the line of muscle down to my ribs. I can’t help it, my breath hitches. My chest rises into her palm, silently begging for more.
“Touch me, please.” My voice is rough, raw. I don’t ask for things like this, but I’m asking her.
Nova looks up, her eyes blazing, half fire, half tenderness. The way she watches me?
It’s like she’s touching my soul as much as my skin.
She presses her palm flat against my heart, and something inside me breaks. Not in the way that hurts. No, it’s the kind of breaking that makes you whole.
I close my eyes and sink into it.
Her fingertips continue their slow, maddening path up my neck, across my jaw, and brushing over my shoulder. She lingers there, and my breath catches again.
When I open my eyes, she’s still watching me, and, God, there’s so much love in her expression that it wrecks me.
“Lie on your stomach for me.”
I hesitate. Lying on my stomach makes me vulnerable. There’s no defense in that position. But this is Nova. She’s not here to hurt me.
I’m safe with her.
Slowly, I roll over, every muscle tight as a bowstring. My breathing is uneven, and I hate how exposed I feel, but then her hand skims down my back, and fuck , everything unravels.
Her fingers trace the ridges of my spine, following the line all the way down. But my skin is hypersensitive. Every pass of her fingers sends jolts of electricity straight to my cock.
By the time her hand reaches the small of my back, I’m burning from the inside out.
I shift against the mattress, biting back a groan as heat pools low in my stomach.
“You’re shaking,” she whispers, her hand pressing a little firmer. “I’ve got you.”
I’m coming apart at the seams, not from fear but from her touch and the slow, deliberate way she’s unraveling every wall I’ve ever built.
She drags her nails lightly up my back, and my entire body arches without my permission. A sound escapes me—half growl, half plea.
God, help me.
Her hand slides lower again, tracing slow circles over my lower back, then up to my shoulder blades. I press into the mattress, but it doesn’t help. It only makes the friction worse. I’m painfully hard again, my entire body wired and buzzing from her touch.
“Nova,” I rasp.
She leans over me, brushing her lips against the nape of my neck. “I’m here.”
My fear doesn’t stand a chance against her.
I’m not falling apart anymore.
I’m falling into her.
Her touch leaves me when she stretches out on her stomach beside me, sliding her hands beneath the pillow. I push myself up to my elbows and watch how her back arches, every line of her graceful, her hair spilling over her shoulder like silk.
My pulse is still pounding from everything she’s undone in me.
But now?
Now it’s my turn.
I trace the dip of her spine the way she did mine. “You have no idea what you just did to me.”
She hums softly, her eyes fluttering shut.
I shift to hover over her, my hand sliding up her side, stopping below her ribs, making her shiver. Leaning down, I press a gentle kiss between her shoulder blades. Then I kiss my way down, following the path my fingers made, lingering at the small of her back.
Her hips shift, a desperate little motion, and I smile against her skin. I trail my hands down her sides, then grip her hips, lifting them to give me access to the G-string that is still pushed to the side. I pull the fabric down her legs and off her, leaving her bare.
Dripping with my cum.
Holy shit.
If I weren’t already hard again, I would be now.
She lets out a soft, needy sound, her fingers curling into the sheets. “Ace…”
I run my fingers through her folds, spreading my cum mixed with her wetness. She gasps while I press a kiss to the curve of her ass, then slip a finger inside her, the tight heat clenching around me. A moan breaks from her throat, muffled by the pillow, and I add another finger, moving in and out with a slow, languid rhythm.
“Will you let me try again?” My thumb finds her clit, circling it with gentle pressure. “Maybe I’ll last longer the second time around.”
Her moans grow louder. “Yes, please. Fuck me, Ace.”
I pull out my fingers, and she gasps at the loss when I shift behind her, positioning myself so I’m kneeling between her legs. Leaning down and over her, I press my forehead to her shoulder for a moment, trying to ground myself.
I can’t come too early twice in one night.
But the sound she makes, a soft, desperate moan, nearly breaks me. Her hips tilt back, inviting me in, and she’s trembling beneath me. I press myself against her, letting my cock drag up and down her slit, teasing her clit with every slow glide.
Her body arches, a whimper escaping her lips. “Please…” she gasps, “… please, Ace. I need you.”
My eyes squeeze shut at the sound of her begging when I lower myself over her, my chest pressing against her back, my hands sliding beneath her to cup her breasts. Her breath hitches, her nipples hardening against my palms. It surprises me how okay this is, how natural it feels to hold her like this.
Her hands are still tucked beneath her, making sure I’m the one doing the touching, that there’s no sudden shift I can’t handle. It helps. God, it helps.
I press my lips to her neck, tasting her skin as I knead her breasts, my thumbs circling her nipples. She moans, the sound vibrating through us, and I press my hips against her, sliding my cock through her slit again.
“You’re my whole fucking life, Nova.”
“ Please. ”
Shifting back, I line myself up, pressing the tip of my cock against her entrance, where I pause, my hands tightening on her breasts as I take a shaky breath. Then, slowly, I push inside her, and it feels like the first time again.
She’s perfect, tight, and hot, and a groan tears from my throat. She moans beneath me, her body arching as I sink deeper, inch by inch until I’m fully seated inside her.
“Fuck,” I groan, my forehead resting against her shoulder. “You feel so good. So fucking perfect.”
She moans again, her hips pressing back against me. “Ace…”
The sound of her saying my name sends a jolt of pleasure through me, and I start to move, pulling out slowly before sliding back in. Surprisingly, this is easier. Having the control, me fucking her, not her riding me, makes it easier not to come too quickly again.
I want to make this good for her.
My hand slides between her and the bed, finding her clit. I circle it slowly, matching the rhythm of my hips, and her moans turn into pleading cries. My other hand stays on her breast, my thumb brushing her nipple.
“You’re perfect,” I whisper in her ear. “Your pussy’s perfect. God, Nova, you’re everything.”
She gasps, her body trembling, and I know she’s getting closer. Her moans grow louder, her hips grinding against my hand and cock, and I lose myself in the sound of her, in the way she’s falling apart beneath me.
With a final flick of my fingers over her clit, she cries out, her body locking up as she comes. Her walls squeeze me like a fist, and the sensation rips through me, my own release slamming into me with the force of a freight train. I bury myself deep inside her, my cock pulsing as I spill into her for a second time, a broken moan tearing from my lips.
With a shuddering breath, I finally ease down, careful not to crush her beneath me while staying inside her, unwilling to lose the connection.
I need to stay close, closer than skin, closer than breath.
Her body is still trembling as she melts into the mattress, and I slowly shift to lie beside her and wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her back against my chest. She lets out a contented sigh, her fingers brushing lazily over mine as I hold her.
Our bodies fit together like they were made to.
My lips find her shoulder, pressing gentle, lingering kisses to the jagged scar. I kiss it over and over again as if I can rewrite every painful memory it holds with nothing but love.
She hums softly, half asleep already, and I feel her heartbeat syncing with mine. Each kiss grows softer until my lips barely brush her skin.
The fear that’s haunted me for so long fades with every steady breath she takes in my arms.
Her touch shattered something in me tonight, something I thought I’d never let go of. And instead of falling apart, I fell into her.
She’s my undoing and my salvation.
I bury my face in the curve of her neck, my eyes growing heavier with each slow beat of her pulse beneath my lips. “I love you, Nova,” I whisper again, the words tasting like truth.
She murmurs too soft for me to catch, but I don’t need to hear it. I know.
I close my eyes, my body wrapped around hers, and as sleep pulls me under, I hold on to the feeling of her, the proof that maybe I’m allowed to have this.
To love her.
To be loved back.