CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ares
Clay has been gone for thirty seconds when Kayla turns to me. “I need to go to my loft. Not to stay—I’m moving out completely. I spoke to Mabel a few days ago, and she would like someone who is around more, as she enjoys the company.”
“I can help with that, but we’ll need to get Brawley’s keys. I don’t know if you should push your luck with Clay right now.”
She snorts. “I was also thinking, maybe we could have some alone time.”
“In the loft?”
She nods. “On every surface,” she adds with a wink.
I take her hand and we race off to find Brawley, locating him in his ring, sparring with Vesper. Vero is commentating. “Duck . . . ohh, too slow. That’s okay, faces are overrated, I will love you no matter what. Oh look, my paper-cut princess is here.”
“We just need Brawley’s keys to do a run into town.” Vero reaches into his pocket and throws me the keys. “Thanks, we will be back in a bit.”
“Bye, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Actually, I would do anything, so keep her safe, and don’t do anything I would do—it’s not safe.”
Kayla laughs. “He is back to his normal self.”
“He sure is.”
We go to the bar and grab some empty boxes, then stack them in Brawley’s truck. Kayla changes the radio station and messes around with a few settings. If this were Clay’s truck, it would be funny to bait him, but Brawley is used to Vero, who touches everything.
Kayla sings off-key the entire drive. She keeps the window down and the wind blows in her hair. By the time we get to her loft, her smile is so wide, you wouldn’t even guess this is a big moment for her.
Mabel isn’t here, which disappoints Kayla, but we climb the stairs to the loft, and she stops to look around.
“Okay, let’s get you all packed up. What in here is yours?” I ask her.
“Just anything personal, all the furniture was here when I moved in.”
We work together to pack all of her things—the bathroom items, a few small pictures, and candles. We are clearing out the last of the drawers beside her bed when she pulls out a single photo of her and Aaron. In it she looks really young.
“I can’t believe I thought I loved this man.” She tears the photo into a few pieces while walking it over to the trash can where we emptied her fridge. “It’s strange . . . I spent so long making sure I had a place that was mine, but now I’m here and I just want to go home.”
“We have one last thing to do,” I say, and she smiles.
I move toward her and lift her up onto the counter. Leaning in, I kiss along her throat, and she pulls at my shirt and whispers, “Off.”
I step back and pull my shirt over my head, and she leans forward to flick open my jeans, working them down until my cock is free.
She lightly brushes the tip with her fingers, teasing me and drawing out a groan.
Fuck this. I step back in closer and pull the oversized hoodie off her body, along with her shirt, and make quick work of her jeans and panties until she is naked.
I pull her to the edge of the counter and take both her wrists in one hand, pinning them behind her back.
The position arches her toward me, so her chest presses against mine, and I’m able to feel every breath she takes.
I don’t waste any time, stepping forward and using my free hand to guide myself into her.
She takes me all the way in on a sharp inhale, her body tensing for a second, then she rolls her hips greedily, wordlessly asking for more before she has time to adjust.
Normally, I would go slower. I like control, the attention to detail, and making my partner wait. But the roll of Kayla’s hips against mine reminds me this is not about manipulation. I want to give her exactly what she is asking for.
I release her wrists, and she brings her arms up, looping them around my neck, her fingers running over my nape.
She pulls me down and kisses me hard, and I brace one hand against the cabinet behind her as I give her what she wants.
I fuck her on the counter as the cabinets behind her rattle with the force of my thrusts while she gasps into my mouth.
With limited room to move, I push my hands under her thighs and walk us until her back meets the wall.
She locks her legs around me, bracing herself against it.
“There,” she moans breathily. “Right there.”
As I drive into her again, she grinds against me, wanting more.
I move us toward the bed, giving her back a break from the friction of the wall.
When we reach the bed, we both fall onto the soft surface, and she sits up to throw her leg over me, pressing her hands to my chest. I take her face between my hands, and she makes a sound low in her throat, which has me half sitting up to capture from her mouth.
“Ares,” she moans, and I grab her hips, working her up and down my length.
Kayla’s eyes widen, and she finds her rhythm quickly, but when I feel the overwhelming need to come, I sit up and swing my legs to the side of the bed, pushing to a stand.
My cock is still deep inside her as she clings to me, and I stride toward the sofa, then lift her off and place her gently down before spinning her around and bending her over the arm.
Her hands are braced on the cushions, and my hands grip her hips as I carefully thrust back inside her, causing her fingers to curl into the plush fabric.
Pulling her back into me as I slam forward, I fuck her hard, knowing I will come at any moment.
Rotating my hips on the next thrust, I adjust my angle, drawing out a sound from her that is half curse and half inarticulate moan.
I do it again as she pushes back against me and slide my arm around her, my fingers finding her clit and moving in the slow, steady circles I know she likes.
She drops her head forward. “Fuck . . . Ares.”
“What do you need?” Though I already know, I want to hear her say it.
She moans, her hips working against my hand. “I need to come.”
“Then come,” I whisper. “No one is stopping you.”
I keep my hand exactly where it is but pick up my pace, and she grinds against my fingers on every thrust.
She comes with my name on her lips, loud and unapologetic. Her entire body trembles, and I press my forehead against her spine as I spill into her.
I don’t know how love feels.
I have read about it, observed it in other people, but I have never had a true reference point for what it feels like.
Yet if it feels like this—like wanting someone to have everything they need, with no agenda—then maybe I have been capable of love the whole time.
I just needed the right person to walk in and refuse to believe anything less of me.
Once we’ve both caught our breath, she turns in my arms, her cheeks still flushed and her hair a mess. She puts her hand against the side of my face, and I cover it with mine. “I love you, Ares.”
She smiles as I meet her eyes and lean into her hand. “I don’t have the same words you do, but whatever I’m capable of, it’s yours. All of it.”
And I believe every word I’ve spoken. It’s not a line to make her feel better about saying she loves me, though I can’t say it back—I just need more time to figure things out.
I’m learning that maybe I’m not who I thought I was, or perhaps it is possible that a single person can make you relearn all your behaviors because you want to be a better person for them.
We both get dressed and load her things into the truck, and before we take the last load downstairs, she does one final spin in her old space.
“I thought I would feel weird about leaving,” she admits with a sigh.
“It’s okay that you don’t.”
She nods. “Thank you for coming with me.”
I stand beside her, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “I would follow you into the pits of hell.”
She laughs, and normally I would question why, but I know it’s because she knows I am telling the truth.
We carry the last two boxes down the stairs; I take the heavier one, and she doesn’t argue.
She is quiet, and I know as much as she says she wants this, she has to feel something.
People always do when they leave a place they have lived—it’s human nature.
We put her things in the back of Brawley’s truck, and I close the tailgate while she waits on the pavement, looking up at the building.
“Do you want to see if Mabel is back?” I ask her.
Kayla shrugs. “What if she cries?”
“Then she cries.”
“You are deeply helpful sometimes,” she says, and I shrug.
“I know, it’s a personality flaw. We can’t all be perfect.”
She takes a deep breath, and we walk back toward the house.
Kayla knocks on Mabel’s door, while I stand back a little to give her some space.
The door opens, and both women cry and hug, which makes me a little uncomfortable, but I stand there patiently, waiting for them to finish.
Kayla steps back and wipes her eyes, then I follow her to the truck and open her door, and she climbs in.
After closing her door, I walk around to the driver’s side, get in, and pull out onto the street.
“I’m going to miss her,” Kayla says sadly.
I place my hand on her thigh and drive toward the island.
Home.
Where she now belongs. Though, fuck me, I don’t know what I have done to deserve this. I can’t offer her things that the others can.
Halfway back to the island, she falls asleep with her head pressed against the door.
I think back to how she told me she loves me.
It’s the first time in my life that someone who said it to me meant it and didn’t plan to use it against me.
I haven’t opened up to her about my past, but it is best kept away from her goodness.
My guardian was a piece of shit, and the abuse along with everything else they put me through is not something I will ever rehash.
There is no point in bringing it up. Therapists have tried talking to me about it, but it’s hard to understand the extent of it when I can’t process the emotions I don’t have.
I may not always know the difference between right and wrong, but I know I didn’t deserve what happened.
All I know is when I told her whatever I was capable of was hers, I meant those words. I don’t know if that’s love—I have no reference point—but it’s a start.
It’s a place I can mark in my system, one I have created in my brain just for her.
A reminder that she is someone I cannot manipulate, and I don’t need to because she is here of her own free will.
Kayla knows what I am capable of, yet she trusts me to do the right thing.
It helps that she can see right through me; it will keep me accountable, because fuck knows she is going to have to.
There may be days I will slip up, and I can’t risk losing her.
And I’ll need her to call me out each and every time.
At a red light, I reach over and brush the hair from her face, and she grumbles. She stays asleep the entire way back, and when I pull up outside the house, I sit and watch her just for a little while longer.
This is her new home.
It won’t be quiet like her loft. It’s going to be loud and chaotic. Vero will be all over her like a rash every chance he can get, but I know she will love it. It will be everything she has always wanted—I’ll make sure of it.
I put my hand on her shoulder, shaking her slightly. “We’re home,” I whisper.
She blinks her eyes open and smiles. “For the first time in my life, it really feels like I am.”