Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
JACE
I glower at Vale as she glares back, grinning.
It’s our usual standoff. Me—silently perched on my stool by the open door of Delta’s. Her—behind her desk, twirling one of her long black braids. I swear she makes Wednesday Addams look like a Girl Scout.
She narrows her long lashes. “What’s different about you?”
“I have on clean underwear.”
Fuck, I wish Nash were here. She’d play “fly in the black widow’s web” with him, not me.
“Yeah, something below your waist is definitely different.” How can she tell? “You finally had a sad sink in the pink, didn’t you?”
I roll my eyes. “For someone with a PhD in sexuality, can’t you sound more educated?”
“Okay then.” She leans back, stacking her clunky Mary Janes on top of her desk. “My amiculus doth have a post-coital tristesse pallor.”
“Say less, Shakespeare.”
“My loving male friend looks sad after his climax. What’s wrong?”
Nothing’s wrong.
Everything finally feels right.
Last night was one of the most intense moments of my life. Touching myself to the sound of Vivian doing the same. Admitting we want each other. Holy fuck, the sound of Vivian’s desire could wake me from the dead. I’ve never felt so alive, so aroused.
But now what?
What’ll happen to our friendship? How do I act in front of her now?
Now that she’s heard me come for her. Coming harder than I ever have before. I had to lick it off my fingers to believe it wasn’t a dream.
I didn’t expect it to happen. I don’t think she did either. I was honestly calling to check on her, but the momentum of it hit us so fast, goddamn, I don’t know if we’ll survive finally fucking. My desire for her feels destructive. Like I’d break every neck and rule to be inside her.
But we can’t.
Not until we catch her ex-husband. Not until we find those servers with the video of her.
Am I dying to know what’s on that video? Yes. It makes me conflicted.
The beast in me wants to kill the man who violated her sexual privacy. It’s so fucking wrong.
But the man in me wants to know what she was doing that she thinks was so bad, so that I can do it with her and show her how good it can feel.
Because I’d never hurt her. I can’t imagine how she must feel about sex now. When it’s been weaponized against you, can you trust someone to share it again?
Maybe last night is all we can have. It’s all that feels safe for her. And that’s good enough for me. But it shouldn’t be good enough for her.
That’s why I’m sad.
Vivian deserves so much more.
I shrug, dismissing my feelings. This isn’t about me. “Same day, different dicksplash,” I tell Vale.
She and I are crass because our friendship is close. It’s completely understood that she belongs with Nash, and I’m in love with Vivian. There’s a freedom in our clarity—a cuteness to our candor.
So of course, Vale rips her feet off the desk. “Oh my god, something finally happened last night with Vivian, didn’t it?” She claps. “Jace! Yay!”
Clocking Vivian’s ponytail, swishing by the gate, I wave Vale off. “Put the pom-poms down.”
“Hey.” Vivian blushes at the first sight of me.
“Hey.” Fuck, I’m blushing too.
Without a word, she walks my way, looking like a true smokeshow in her sleeveless, mock turtleneck sweater dress and nude sandals. Her dress is beige and elegant and fucking killing me because her nipples have never looked harder.
Silently, she hands me a white paper bag of my favorite macarons.
“Thank you.” I barely remember English.
For the first time, she winks at me. “My pleasure.”
She hasn’t been crying this morning, I can tell. She woke up happy because of last night. It’s obvious and worth it, even if it’s all we can do together.
For now.
“Hey, Vale.” She turns to go inside, ever the professional once she’s in the shop. “I have a client coming at five. She’s a new mom and wants to feel sexy again, and I told her you could help her find something gorgeous to wear for our shoot?”
“Sure.” Vale perks up. “What’s her name?”
The two easily chat while I watch, flooded with warmth.
Vivian fits in without even knowing who we really are.
Vale adores her. Nash respects her. Grant likes her. Delphine and Ruby are on her side. Even Axel raises an admiring brow at her. Without trying, Vivian belongs to us. It’s natural and making this really hard to hide.
This pounding in my heart.
This image I have of initiating her.
This urge I have to make her my queen.
I have pit stains the size of Canada.
The women exchange quick hugs before Vivian slings her camera bag over her shoulder. “Okay, I’ve got a meeting at The Mercier at three, but I’ll be right back.”
Instinct punches my gut. “The Mercier?” It’s telling me not to let her out of my sight.
“Yeah,” she answers breezily. “With Luca Mercier. He remodeled their spa, and I need to do a location scout to check the lighting before I shoot it.”
I jump to my feet. “I’m going with you.”
Vivian edges back, smiling. “Why?”
“I can’t explain it. I just worry—”
“Jace,” she whispers, standing inches away. “I’m fine. Last night was amazing, and—”
“It’s not about last night. I mean, it is.
” I glance up, clocking a dark SUV with tinted windows slowly driving down the road.
Is it normal? Yes. Do I feel normal? No.
“Something’s telling me to protect you today, so let me join you as a friend, or I’ll just follow you like a freak and really piss you off. ”
She shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
I hold the iron gate open for her. I flank her, walking on the outside of the sidewalk. I press the cross-signal buttons on each block. We walk for three blocks in an oddly comfortable silence until she spins my way.
“I don’t want to be late, but I don’t want you to suffer either.” She cranes her slender neck, gazing up at me. “So let’s talk about last night until you feel good about it because I do. For the first time in years, I woke up happy.”
Gently, I take her arm, leading her from the busy sidewalk into the shadows of a garden, cobblestone alley. Moss laces the historic stones under our feet, but this is new.
Everything we’re finally talking about.
“I’m happy about last night too,” I confess. “Real fucking happy because I’m real fucking horny for you and that makes me really worried for us.”
The cutest smile tugs on her glossy, nude lips.
“What?” I ask because she makes me squirm. All six feet, six inches, and two hundred and fifty pounds of me dangle like a worm on a hook for her.
“You’re really cute when you’re happy, horny, and worried.”
“Don’t feel cute.” I lift my jacket lapels, showing her my soaked shirt. “I’m sweating like a sinner in church about us.”
Her brows bend. “But we didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not married.”
“I know. And we never would’ve done it if you were. I just hope I didn’t fuck up our friendship. I’m the one who called you in the middle of the night, and I’ve never done that before, and maybe I crossed a line. Maybe I flirted too much. Maybe I rushed you. You’ve been through a lot, and—”
“Jace.” She touches my chest. It calms my heart but conjures the monster between my legs. “You didn’t cross a line. In fact, I care so much about you, I don’t want you to be my rebound.”
“Your rebound?”
“Yeah. Everyone says after a divorce, you have one fast, intense relationship that feels like love, but it’s just a distraction from your grief, a place to fall before you get up.”
“Am I your—”
“No.” She reaches for my hand. It’s sweating, but fuck it; it belongs to her.
“No, you’re not my rebound, and that’s what I’m saying.
I’ve already grieved his betrayal, and all that’s left is his abuse, but I’ll get through that, too, thanks to you and your…
friends. So I want us to be special and go kind of… slow.”
“Slow?” I brush a golden tendril from her face. “Okay, I can go slow. But can we add this past year to the slow timeline because you know I’ve been waiting for fucking ever for you.”
Her eyes sparkle. “Maybe.”
I grin. “Oh, maybe you know that all this time I’ve been hard and hot and bothered for you, Smokeshow?”
Goddamn, hallelujah, and hell yes. I finally see joy in Vivian’s eyes. Bliss that belongs to me.
She beams, tugging my hand. “Come on. We’re gonna be late.”
Fuck cloud nine. I’m walking on cloud nine hundred by Vivian’s side as we stroll into the white marble lobby of The Mercier Hotel.
“Ms. Tate.” The concierge rushes to greet her. “Delighted to see you again. Mr. Mercier sends his regards and regrets. He’s home with his daughter, who has a touch of something.”
“Poor thing.” Vivian sighs. “Is she okay?”
“She will be,” he answers. “So, I’ve been instructed to escort you to the new spa where you’ll meet with Mr. Rollins, and…” His eyes fondly comb my form. “And your friend is?”
Vivian’s friend is fucked.
Because Mr. Rollins is Zar Rollins, the CFO of The Mercier Hotels, and my secret brother-in-law. Zar is married to my brother, Nick, and we’ve never done this: try to hide our bond.
With the other kings and queens, it’s been easy. We work together. Or they have jobs that can help in Vivian’s situation.
But Zar?
I’ve watched his initiation. It was passionate, brutish, beautiful, and what he desired. To be claimed by my brother, Nick, and taken by my brother, Sire, his second king, together.
Men don’t typically arouse me, but fleeting exceptions have been enjoyed.
Are queens usually women? Of course. Does Zar Rollins redefine the role well beyond most women and gay men? Definitely.
It’s in his Texas drawl and Southern swagger. He’s tall and tan, masculine and muscular. He’s wealthy, well-mannered, witty, and warm.
Did I leave anything out?
Oh, and he’s a bisexual sub for Luca Mercier and Luca’s wife, Scarlett, while also being proudly married to my brother. They’re in a polycule together.
Yeah, this will be Oscar-worthy for sure.