Chapter 25 #2
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?