Chapter 13 #2
Aggie smiles.
Rachel snorts. “I almost drowned at a school swimming tournament once. It was so embarrassing.”
We laugh.
“My mother made the decision not to teach me to swim, and therefore I am of no help during this difficult time because I am unable to catch any fish,” Adrian pipes up, his eyes staring off into the distance.
I giggle, and Tatiana shoves my shoulder with hers.
“Oh,” Kellen says. “You’re keepin’ us alive, brother. Don’t doubt it.”
Adrian looks up, his eyes narrowing. “Well, I did catch a fish on my spear.”
“And what a fish it was,” Kellen says, grinning.
The fucking fish wasn’t enough to feed a toddler, but I love that he is hyping him up all the same.
“It was a good fish,” Adrian says, puffing his chest out. “Mother was wrong, I am capable.”
Oh dear.
“Yeah, buddy,” Ace grins. “You are.”
We all take another drink.
“Tell us about the fighting,” Tatiana asks, stretching her legs out, her voice slightly slurred.
This is the most life I have seen from her in days.
“Mostly underground,” Ace answers. “Sometimes legal, others not. I manage a club back home.”
Aggie’s eyes go huge. “Like a fight club?”
“Something like that,” he replies, and his smile is slow, dangerous. “We fight, people bet. It’s only illegal if someone gets caught, or someone gets killed. Otherwise, it’s Friday night entertainment.”
“Do you ever fight professionally?” Tatiana asks.
“All the time,” Kellen answers for Ace.
“So, it’s like a mix,” Rachel asks him.
“Yeah.”
The two meet eyes, then look away.
Oh, why do I feel like Kellen is going to get himself into trouble with Aggie and Rachel.
The fire spits sparks into the night. The moon is a smudge above us, half-cloaked by the clouds.
Kellen tells a story about jail—he spent one night there for bar-fighting, but he makes it sound like an epic, a glorious brawl in which he stood up for the weak and walked away bloodied but triumphant.
Zeke rolls his eyes and tells us that Kellen is full of shit and nearly got his ass handed to him.
We’re all drunk fairly quickly. Not the fun, dizzy kind, but the raw, fragile kind where I keep expecting to cry, but instead I’m laughing harder than I have in months.
At some point Rachel stands up and starts to dance.
Aggie leaps to her feet and pulls Tatiana up, their hands linked.
I watch, and my chest gets tight, because it’s so clearly a memory we won’t ever be able to explain to the real world.
Ace nudges my knee. “Wanna dance?”
“Not really,” I say, but then he’s up, yanking me upright with both hands.
He pulls me close, and for a second the world tips.
The fire, the stars, the sound of girls shrieking on the sand—I only feel the weight of his hands on my hips, the steadiness that leaks through his fingertips into my bones.
We sway, barely moving, and I keep looking up and seeing something soft in his jaw, his eyes, his expression. I shiver, unable to stop the feelings coursing through me from taking over.
“Cold?” he asks, voice low.
“No,” I whisper. “It’s just...you...”
He leans in, breath warm on my ear. “Come with me.”
We break away from the fire, feet crunching on the rough sand.
The air is thick with salt and smoke. We walk down the beach until the others are only silhouettes, and even their laughter is smothered by the surf.
I stop by a half-buried driftwood log and sit, my head spinning in ways that have nothing to do with the alcohol.
Ace sits next to me, close enough that I feel the electricity radiate from his skin. We don’t say anything for a while. The moon is above us now, throwing silver over the water. I start tracing patterns in the sand with my toe. “Do you really beat people up for a living?”
He chuckles. “Yeah.”
“It’s so hard to imagine you fighting like that. I kind of want to see it, but also, I don’t.”
“Maybe when we get out of here, you can come and watch.”
My heart explodes.
“Did you ever—I mean, did you ever—” I don’t know how to ask, but he grins, like he’s expecting it.
“Kill someone?” He shakes his head. “No.”
“Oh. Phew.”
He chuckles again.
I can’t help myself, I reach over and take his hand.
He looks at our joined fingers, then up at me.
Fuck it. I lean in and kiss him—hard. He tastes like vodka and smoke, and I’m greedy, desperate for him to erase the taste of everything else.
He responds in kind, his hands in my hair and then on my neck, and then under the band of my shirt.
The world shrinks to this night, the surf, and the thud of my heart against my ribs.
He pulls me onto his lap, and I let him, legs straddling him.
Our mouths crush together, and it isn’t gentle.
It’s everything I never let myself want.
His hands move over my back, my ass, pulling me down so I can feel how hard he is under me.
I grind against him, and his breath shudders out.
My hands are on his shoulders, then beneath his shirt, gliding over his bare chest, tracing the scars there, each one a story I want to hear.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, kissing down my neck. “I’m goin’ to need to fuck you, Gracie.”
“But we can’t,” I whimper against his mouth.
He pulls back, grinning, then reaches down and fishes a condom out of his pocket like a goddamn magician.
I burst out laughing. “Where did you even get that?”
“The boat. Found a bag of things and there was a packet in there.”
“Are you going to share with the others?”
He winks at me. “Fuck no.”
I can’t help but laugh, right before his mouth finds mine again.
I don’t have time to think, because he pulls my shorts off in a single motion, and then his jeans are open.
I can barely breathe. He rolls the condom on, and I’m suddenly so hungry for him, I could scream.
He pulls me back down onto him. I arch my back and gasp at the stretch of his cock sliding in, inch by perfect inch.
He grabs my hips and sets a rhythm—slow at first, then faster, until I’m moaning his name into the night.
I ride him, grinding my hips, rolling them and tipping my head back as pleasure washes over me.
I find my release first, and I don’t care who hears me.
It is exceptional.
Ace growls, low into my ear as he digs his fingers into my flesh, moving me faster, until he finds his own release with a groan so deep I feel it travel over my skin. Then, when he stops shuddering, our foreheads drop together, breaths tickling each other’s faces.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, Gracie,” he murmurs.
“Who would have thought we would find each other like this,” I tease lightly. “Stranded on an island together.”
“Couldn’t write it,” he murmurs, brushing his lips across my cheek.
When the tide creeps up and threatens our little moment, Ace walks me back to camp, and I let him.
I’m not done with him, I’m scared I will never be done with him.
We lay down together, a tangle of arms and legs, and then he fucks me again, slow and quiet, the crackling fire the only sound around us.
Why is it that being here, with him, with them, is starting to feel like home?