Chapter 47 Ace
Ace
Iraise my hand and tap my knuckles against King’s open office door. His head is down, and his eyebrows are pulled low as if he’s concentrating really hard. As soon as he hears my soft knock, his head snaps up, and his gaze connects with mine.
“Hey.” My voice is rusty from lack of use.
“Hey,” he replies just as softly.
“Can I come in?”
He nods.
Stepping inside, I head to the opposite side of his desk and sit on the very edge of the chair in an attempt to get as close to Kingston as I can while not knowing how close he wants me to be.
Warily, he watches me, making my heart break.
“I’m sorry,” I start. “I’m so sorry I said those things. It wasn’t okay to compare you to Burlone, and it was a hit below the belt. You’re nothing like him, Kingston. I know you just want me to be safe, and you’re feeling spooked right now. I was a brat, and I don’t know how to make it better.”
My apology hangs in the air for a few brief seconds before he stands and walks around his desk. With him at his full height, and me sitting with my back ramrod straight, I feel smaller than an ant.
Peeking up at him, I wait for him to decide whether or not he’ll accept my apology, praying that he does. Whatever is going on between us isn’t just surface-level crap. I care about him––a lot. And I can’t believe I was so callous to screw it up.
“Truth,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a choice. I’ll try to take your past into consideration and talk things through with you instead of giving you orders as if you’re one of my men. Okay?”
A soft smile tugs at my lips as I watch an unbendable man bend. For me.
“Truth.”
As I push myself up from my chair, he reaches for my waist and drags me closer until I’m standing between his legs while he leans against the desk.
With my hands resting on his broad chest, I soak up his innocent touch when he smiles.
It’s soft but real, reminding me of a ray of sunshine peeking through the clouds after a storm.
I return it with one of my own, trying to hide my awe that the man in front of me could give me a smile like that.
One that holds an edge of promise to it that makes my heart beat a little faster.
The warmth in his eyes is a balm to my soul, which is both terrifying and exhilarating.
And it scares me with how much I’m starting to rely on it.
His warmth. His touch. His heart. I slowly rub my hands along his pecs and up to his shoulders.
His soul. I need all of him, and I pray that I’m not the only one getting lost in this relationship.
Lacing his fingers through my messy waves, he accepts my apology with a panty-melting kiss that makes my knees weak. The realization that I really like this man is staggering but glaringly accurate as I open my mouth to him and show him how sorry I really am.
The thought of losing him brings tears to my eyes, but I push them away and slip my tongue into his mouth.
I’m being dramatic. We weren’t even really in a fight or anything.
Hell, I can barely call it a disagreement, but the situation still brought feelings to the surface I hadn’t addressed before.
Ones that made me question what I’d do if he didn’t care.
If he didn’t want me around. If he didn’t show a gentleness around me that he usually reserves for… no one.
After he pulls away from our kiss, he drags his hands down to my waist and laces his fingers at the small of my back to keep me close. I’m grateful when he changes the subject and brings a lightness to our conversation that lets me hide from the ins and outs of our relationship a little longer.
“How was getting your stuff?” he asks.
“It was okay. D told me something, though.”
He quirks his brow. “And what’s that?”
“That he has a brother. Or a…half-brother, I guess?”
I still can’t fully understand what that means.
“Wow.” The surprise is clear on Kingston’s face as he takes a second to digest the information.
I laugh softly. “Wow? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m just surprised he told you that. Only a small handful of people know about D’s little brother. And by small, I mean small. He must like you.”
Looking back on our conversation in the car, I feel a sense of peace and camaraderie that is rare in friendships. One I plan on cultivating with Diece if he’ll let me.
“I hope so. I really like him too.”
“Not too much, I hope,” he grumbles.
With a flirtatious smile, I press my luck. “Is someone jealous?”
His bright green eyes turn darker, and a playful Kingston leans forward then bites my neck, sending tingles straight to my toes.
“Maybe,” he returns. With our fronts plastered together, Kingston starts planting slow, open-mouthed kisses along my neck and jaw, leading back to my mouth where he slips his tongue between my lips.
He tastes so damn good, it’s not even funny, and I suck him deeper into my mouth, savoring his unique taste like aged whiskey.
“Mmm,” I moan, tilting my head up as he breaks our mouths apart and continues his assault on my body. “I think I like jealous Kingston.”
With a soft, deliberate roll of his hips, I can feel his excitement on my stomach, and I hold my breath in response, squeezing my eyes closed and soaking up the elusive moment I was afraid I’d never have again after my screw up from earlier.
“I think he likes you too,” Kingston breathes huskily.
Throwing my head back, I let out a breathy laugh before Kingston grabs the back of my head with one hand and kisses me like it’s his dying wish.
My amusement from seconds ago is replaced with heated lust as I let my instincts take over.
The feel of his rough hands tangling in my hair.
The sweet taste on my tongue. The powerful muscles pressed against my chest––the need oozing from every pore on Kingston’s body.
It makes me feel powerful. Wanted. Needed.
And those damn feelings from before are back with full-force, refusing to be ignored.
With one hand still tangled in my locks and holding me in place, his other hand slides down my back and grabs my ass, squeezing the muscle until I’m sure it’ll form bruises in the shape of his fingertips.
Bruises that I’ll wear like a badge of honor.
But the physical contact only leaves me wanting more.
And when his fingers graze the apex of my thighs, I gasp on contact.
Pulling away, he looks down at me with a wicked grin. “Do you like that, Wild Card?”
I roll my eyes and tug him closer. “And here I thought you were the smart one. Didn’t think I’d need to walk you through this, but—”
He cuts me off with another kiss before pressing his fingers against my core all over again.
A little rougher this time. My smartass response disappears into thin air, and a low growl escapes King when he unbuttons the top of my jeans and slips his hand beneath my cotton boyshorts to find me hot and ready.
“Shit, Ace,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“Don’t stop,” I beg, grabbing his wrist and urging him to continue.
With a slow curve of his fingers and a quirk of his lips, he mutters, “Not a chance in hell.”
As his calloused finger slips between my slick folds, I squeeze my eyes shut. Then he presses into me. And I’m lost.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Each rhythmic tease only spurs on my erratic breathing and makes every nerve in my body feel like a livewire. I squeeze my eyes shut and rest my head on his broad shoulder. His lips brush against my neck before he growls, “Look at me, Wild Card.”
I moan and tilt my head to the side, giving him better access to my sensitive skin while ignoring his demand.
His fingers pick up their rhythm as another order leaves his lips. “Now.”
Forcing my heavy head up, I hold his dark gaze for barely a second before I fall. Hard.
“Fuuuuck,” I breathe. The orgasm rushes through me like a tsunami, hitting everywhere at once and spreading like wildfire along with a flurry of emotions that leave me breathless.
“Good girl,” he praises as I slowly come back to earth, though the blissful haze refuses to dissipate.
Once the waves of pleasure have subsided, and I’m busy gasping for air, he pulls his hand from my jeans and licks his fingers, his gaze still heated with lust. And maybe something else too, but I can’t quite place what the emotion is, though I’m afraid it’s shining in my eyes as well.
I watch in fascination, speechless until he puts his freshly cleaned fingers into the belt buckle loops around my waist and jerks me closer, planting a soft last kiss against me.
Whatever this is? It’s real, and I think I’m sick of fighting it. He says that I’m his, and I think I’m ready to admit that he’s mine too.
“Good talk?” he jests.
With a laugh, I joke, “Yeah. Good talk.”