Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
“Ouch.” I groan as I hit the ground for the second time today, my butt absorbing the impact in a way that promises bruises tomorrow. The pavement isn’t exactly forgiving, and I swear it has it out for me.
“That’s going to leave a mark,” Ace says with a laugh, skating up to me and holding out his hand.
“Thanks for the reminder,” I grumble, letting him pull me up.
“You got cocky, baby goat.”
I cringe. “Oh my God, please don’t call me that.”
“All right, Trouble.” His grin widens, and he leans in, brushing a kiss against my lips. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“Just a little.” I dust myself off as Ace reaches behind me, patting my ass to clear away the dirt.
He’s bolder now, and I love it. Every little touch is a victory, a sign that the walls he’s built are starting to crumble. His knuckles trace over my hand here and there, his arm brushes against mine like it’s second nature, and his lips—which offer quick, soft kisses—are addictive.
“Do you want to go another round, or is the lesson done for today?” He smiles as he says it, and I find myself cataloging every detail of him. The lines in his face that weren’t there eight years ago, the faint scars I don’t remember, the way his hair is a little longer now, curling at the ends.
But it’s his lips that capture my attention. There’s a small scar that nicks his bottom lip, and all I can think about is kissing him.
“Maybe we can do a different lesson,” he murmurs. “One I already taught you eight years ago. But this time, I’m the one who needs a refresher.”
My gaze snaps up to meet his. “What?”
“Kiss me,” he demands quickly. “I mean, can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” I whisper, barely able to get the word out as he closes the distance between us.
At first, it’s hesitant, a soft press of his lips against mine, like the ones he’s given the past couple of days.
But then he lingers, pressing into me more, and the heat of him seeps in as his lips start to move against mine.
Butterflies erupt in my stomach, fluttering wildly as my hands find his chest for balance without thinking, but he doesn’t budge or flinch.
It’s the sweetest kiss, no tongue, no urgency, just lips and shared breaths. It feels like a promise of love whispered in the quiet moments between heartbeats.
All too soon, he pulls back, but the smile he gives me is everything. “I fucking missed you like crazy,” he admits on a breath. “I died that day, eight years ago, even if I kept breathing. You’ve made me come alive again.”
My throat tightens, words failing me as I try to tell him that I feel the same. That I’ve missed him with every piece of my soul. Then the sound of a loud engine tears through the moment, cutting us off.
We turn to see a monstrosity of a white van rolling through the gates. It’s big, boxy, and utterly out of place in front of the mansion. Behind the wheel, grinning like the devil himself, is Sylus.
“Of fucking course,” I mutter, unable to stop the laugh that escapes me while Ace lets out a low chuckle.
Sylus pulls the van to a stop, revs the engine obnoxiously one last time, and rolls down the window. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he calls out. “The getaway ride of your dreams has arrived!”
I look at Ace, who shakes his head with a rueful smile. “You ready to deal with him?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not really.”
Sylus leans out of the driver’s side window, honking obnoxiously. “Come on, Sparkle! We’ve got shit to do!”
“Go.” I glance back at Ace, who’s watching with an amused smile, so I glide to the mansion steps, swapping my skates for shoes and grabbing my purse. Before I leave, I turn to him again and lean up for a kiss, a quick peck on the lips, the first time I’ve initiated one.
“See you later?” I ask, hoping he hears the promise in my voice.
“Later, Trouble.” His smile is like the sun breaking through clouds, and it’s hard to walk away, but I do.
I run up to Sylus, who waves at Ace with an exaggerated gesture. “We’ll be back soon!”
I hop into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind me. The scent of the van hits me immediately. It’s a mixture of stale coffee, cheap cologne, and something vaguely metallic.
Ew.
“What is this?” I ask, wrinkling my nose as I look around. “It smells bad in here.”
Before I can protest further, Sylus reaches over, his fingers wrapping around my throat in a firm grip.
My breath catches as his mouth crashes onto mine.
The kiss is messy, dizzying, and completely him—all heat and reckless energy.
My fingers curl into his jacket as he steals the air from my lungs, his grip holding me in place like he owns me.
Fuck.
Then, just as quickly, he lets go, his smirk lazy as he shifts back to the wheel, eyes on the road. “That, Sparkle baby,” he says, throwing the van into gear and pulling out of the gate. “Is part of the plan.”
As we merge onto the street, I realize I’m sitting in a car.
And I got in without hesitation.
Almost instantly, the nerves creep in, clawing their way up my chest. My breathing turns shallow, erratic.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“I… I don’t like to drive in cars,” I manage, gripping my bracelet and focusing on my breath the way Koen taught me. In. Out. Steady.
“Should we turn around and get the bike? I only took the van because we need to pick up some gadgets for it, but if it’s—”
“No, it’s fine,” I cut him off, trying to sound steadier than I feel. “I’ll manage. Can we grab some stuff from my place too?”
“Sure.” Sylus pulls the van to the side of the road and kills the engine. His seat belt clicks as he undoes it, and then he’s leaning over, his fingers undoing mine.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he pulls me into his lap, settling me sideways across his thighs with my back resting against the driver’s side door.
“Keeping you safe.” He fastens the hip seat belt over both of us.
“This doesn’t look safe,” I mutter, though I can feel my body relaxing against him.
His arm wraps around my waist, and he presses a kiss to the side of my neck before starting the engine again. “You feel safer in my lap than over there?”
“Funnily enough, yeah,” I admit. My brain knows this setup is objectively ridiculous and anything but safe, but my body doesn’t care.
“Good.” He squeezes my waist and drives back onto the road. “Now, tell me about your day.”
I glance up at him, raising an eyebrow. “I woke up sticky with cum and sore, only to find some pretty hot pictures of myself on my phone. Turned me on so much, I had to reciprocate the favor.”
Sylus groans, his hand tightening on the wheel as he adjusts his hips under me. “Yeah, I appreciated that. So did Harrington.”
“What?” I snap, sitting up straighter. “Nico? What the fuck? Where even were you? And where did this van come from?”
He smirks, his gaze flicking between me and the road. “Told you I’m going to fix this for you. I’m working on it.”
“And how exactly are you working on it? Showing him dirty pictures and videos of me?”
He gets that far-off look like he’s seriously considering it. Before he can say anything, I bite his cheek—not hard, but enough to make my point. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
He chuckles, entirely unbothered. “It might help. He looked like he wanted to jump through the screen and give you a hand. Which, to be honest, same.”
I think back to the way Nicholas looked at me last night. So damn hurt. I’d much rather see heat in his eyes.
Maybe I should send him a nude.
No. Bad Nova.
Sylus pulls up to my apartment building and parks the van. Then, leading the way upstairs, I unlock the door. Once inside, I motion for him to wait. “Hang on, I need to grab a few things.”
I head straight to the bedroom, crouching down to pull a bag from under the bed.
My hand brushes against the velvet box, and I pause, fingers lingering on it.
Ace has been so sweet. Maybe it’s time I show him how much I missed him too.
I pull the box out and set it on the bed, then start packing—clothes, essentials, everything Sylus missed last time.
As I do, it hits me like a freight train.
When did I just start living there?
What the fuck, Nova?
I shake my head, trying to clear the sudden wave of panic. This isn’t the time for an existential crisis.
When I’m done, I notice that the bag is way too fucking heavy for me. “Sylus, can you help me with this, please?”
He steps into the room, grabbing the bag from my hands and slinging it over his shoulder. His gaze catches on the velvet box. “What’s with that?”
“It’s a present for Ace,” I explain, tucking it under my arm.
“Oh, do I get one too?”
I give him a pointed look. “I thought you got one this morning.”
His grin spreads wide. “Hell, yes, I did.”
We bring everything down to the van, where Sylus tosses the bag in the back before hopping in. The drive is short, and I manage it in the passenger seat with a little less anxiety this time, though my fingers still hover over the bracelet.
Finally, we pull up to a small electronics shop near the end of the Strip.
Sylus leads the way inside, rattling off terms I don’t understand to the guy behind the counter.
They talk like they’re old friends, and while they chat, I wander to the front windows, watching the crowds stroll up and down the Strip—tourists snapping pictures, couples holding hands, groups of friends laughing, Vegas in all its chaotic glory.
Across the street is an old-school arcade with a bright pink vending machine outside. A couple stands in front of it, laughing as they type something into the keypad. The machine spits out a strip of paper, and they share a deep kiss, then walk off, beaming.
“What’s so interesting?” Sylus’s voice is right in my ear, and I jump, spinning around to find him standing there with a cardboard box in his hands, grinning like he caught me red-handed.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, glancing at the machine again and back at him.