62. Ambrose—present day
Ambrose—present day
T he chainsaw-wielding psycho in the movie attacks his third victim just as the battery flashes its ten-percent warning.
“Oh, I’ll get the cable. It’s probably in the reading room somewhere.”
Dollie jumps from the sofa. To my surprise, she pauses the movie on her way out. It’s almost like she wants to see what happens next.
Rummaging comes from the next room. Then her voice. “I can’t find it!”
Thunder roars across the sky, and the house turns black while we’re still in separate rooms.
My ears ring as my name is screamed at the top of Dollie’s lungs. It echoes through the walls, from one room to another. I almost fall from the sofa as I jump from it, my feet not moving as quickly as they need to.
Either I or the next louder clap of thunder startles Bubbles, and she finally abandons the sock she’s carried around and played with for most of the day. She barks and runs to the window, where she continues to make noise.
Rushing through the kitchen, Dollie crashes into my chest with the force of a bullet and knocks the wind from me.
She screams again as my arms slowly come up around her. My pounding heart feels like it could explode any second.
Fingers wander over her back because I can’t stop touching her, feeling her against me. Her breasts press harder against my sternum with the rise and fall of each breath.
I pull her that bit tighter, one hand moving to her head, weaving through her pretty pink hair. The scent of coconut shampoo drifts up my nose as her cheek meets my chest.
Feeling over my body, all the way up to my neck, fingers trace each scar that’s embedded into her memory as well as my skin, and she calms.
I calm slightly, my heart still beating wildly in my chest.
“The lights are out. And your heart is pounding.”
I nod, but I doubt she sees it.
“I guess the charger is pointless then.”
I nod again, and this one also gets lost to the dark.
“There goes our movie.”
A better idea hits me, and I guide her back into the living room. I sit us down on the sofa, both beneath the comforter. We share a sofa cushion because she’s still plastered to me when we kick our feet up onto the table.
I’ll worry about the germs there tomorrow.
Tonight, I’ll enjoy the closeness.
I steal a glance at her, catching her at the very moment she’s looking up at me.
One of us kicks over Shane’s tablet, and we lose the light of its screen to the floor. Dollie’s eyes, instantly on it, have me leaning forward, checking it for damage and moving it to safety.
As I sit back, I feel her tremble.
The tablet is fine.
Another crack of thunder crashes through the sky, interrupting us as her eyes shoot to the window. I wait for Bubbles to bark at it, but she resettles in the corner of the room after spinning pointlessly twice before curling into a ball.
Dollie tucks herself in closer, fingers moving on my sweats and Duggan’s tie.
I don’t interrupt her as I reach for my phone and open my favorite reading app. It’s loaded with classics. Tilting it towards Dollie, I let her select whichever she wants.
Jane Eyre.
“We can read from wherever you are, if you haven’t finished it.”
I haven’t, and I let her pick up from chapter twenty-seven, reading aloud to me.
The wind interrupts her now and again, Dollie’s voice shaking as the storm outside worsens.
To soothe her, my fingers dance up and down her arm, and each time I do that, she relaxes with a big breath that tickles my throat as she nuzzles close to my neck.
We’re deep into a new chapter when a message interrupts her reading.
Valaria.
It’s not important, just her checking in to see if I’m doing okay, nothing about work, which is unusual and slightly endearing.
I like the idea that people don’t only tolerate me because of what I can do for them, and that there are people in this world who see me as something other than a monster.
Maybe as a friend, even.
It kinda felt that way yesterday morning when she stopped by after hearing what had happened at the cemetery with the locals.
“Do you want to answer?” Dollie asks, her eyes on my mouth.
Not wanting to breathe on her, I close my lips and shake my head, the light from my phone lighting up my face. There’s no rush to answer that message. So, I nod for Dollie to continue.
“‘Was there a lady of the house?—’ Can I ask you something?”
I nod, curious about why she stopped reading.
“Valaria is the person who was here yesterday?”
My head bobs.
“That wasn’t my question.”
I wait for her to ask another.
“Please be honest this time. Are you sleeping with her?”
Caught off guard by her asking a question I’ve already answered, I pull myself from her side and move her to face me so she can see my mouth better. But she keeps talking.
“I know I shouldn’t ask because really, it’s none of my business, but seeing her leave yesterday, it made me angry with you.
I said some horribly judgmental things that I didn’t mean.
” Her fingers trail the scars around my mouth.
“I think I hurt you, and I never want to do that… but seeing you with her?—”
I shake my head, not even needing Dollie to explain further.
She didn’t mean what she said.
She’s sorry.
And there is absolutely nothing going on between me and Valaria, and I definitely don’t want her thinking that if it’s upsetting her so much.
And it is… tears shine in her eyes as my phone lights up her face.
“Have you ever been with her? You know, like that?”
I take my phone from her small hands, my fingers intentionally brushing hers because I want to touch her again. I send emails that I let her read from my hand, as she might not see my lips move in the dark.
AmbroseLa’[email protected]:
I’m not sleeping with Valaria. I never have. Never will.
“Why not? She’s pretty.”
I want to ask what kind of question that is. But I choose honesty over dancing around the truth.
AmbroseLa’[email protected]:
Because she isn’t who I want.
“Who do you want?”
Shaking my head, I know I can’t tell her.
“Tell me.” Her hand slows its movements on my sweats, spreading across my thigh.
It’s so close to my cock—now throbbing more than my head.
My throat bobs, and my tongue peeks out to wet my drying lips.
Dollie’s eyes move there, lingering a second too long for me to fight every feeling that has tormented me since I was a teenager.
I shouldn’t be touching her.
I should leave the room and get some air, but there’s a pull that’s just too hard to fight as her touch moves a fraction higher on my leg.
Taking a risk, a feathering touch lands on her jaw, her skin is soft.
It’s too much.
I want her too much.
My fingers move, aching to touch more of her as my other hand spreads through the thickness of her hair. I edge forward, and she doesn’t move. Doesn’t protest as I pull her up onto my lap. Her hands slide up my chest, but she doesn’t push me away, nor does she pull me closer.
She just stares at me, something in her eyes that looks like secret longing, staring back at me.
I recognize it too well.
Our mouths are near, only a breath apart. Our bodies pressing together when I come to my senses and attempt to pull away. Dollie moves with me, and we fall back against the sofa, her body still draped over mine.
She can feel me. Every. Inch.
Trying to guide her away is an impossibility.
Staring into my eyes, she says, “I have another question,” she says with a husky tone to her voice.
I know a cough is coming any second.
She turns away from me, coughing into her elbow. “Sorry if you catch more germs.”
I flash her an imperfect smile, letting her know I don’t even care. I’d take them all, if I could just face my fears and admit what I want.
I need to be braver, like Dollie.
My insides warm up because whatever fear she felt between us only a few weeks ago has completely melted away. She proves that, dragging my face back to face hers.
This is why we’re better.
Better than anything she can have with him .
Shane is smaller than me, but she stands taller with me.
Braving another touch, I hold her against me, testing myself with how terrible I actually feel.
Nowhere near as bad as I did earlier, and my brain isn’t thinking of all the reasons we shouldn’t do this as I brush her hair away again.
The need between us grows, the tingling in my cock too hard to ignore when a part of her brushes over me.
Leaning up toward her face, I take my chances by giving her a kiss that does nothing to help the ache between my legs or the one in my heart, because she does it, she finally pushes me away the second I leave an invisible mark along her jaw.
I freeze, unable to do anything as I lie beneath her.
“That could have been nice,” she whispers almost silently. Too seductively. “But I need to know why before I think you’re someone I can trust again. And I can only do that kind of thing with you if I truly trust you.”
I look at her dumbfounded, not having any clue what she’s talking about.
“Why did you threaten to kill me? I have to know.”
My mouth moves, but no sound comes out. I search for my phone that has gone missing somewhere between us, and then I push her away when I don’t find it. Stretching over her, I reach for hers instead. There is a list of texts and missed calls that instantly get my back up. All from Shane.
I ignore them and force her to do the same by using her phone to text with no recipient.
Dollancie:
What the fuck, Dollie!
I flash the phone in her direction, not too close to her face because I know that stresses her out.
“It’s a simple question, Ambrose.” She straightens, sitting back up on the sofa and hiding behind the blanket.
She doesn’t reach for Duggan, who now sits closer to me than her. With fast fingers, I delete the message and replace it with another.
Dollancie:
I never did that.
You know I’d never do that.
“You did. In the one and only letter you ever sent in the time we were apart.” Tears fill her eyes, and I desperately want to wipe them when a lip tremble joins them on her face.
It affects her voice as she continues to speak.
“You told me you’d slit my throat, like Mom’s, if I ever contacted you again. ”
Dollancie:
I sent you hundreds of letters.
I wrote to you weekly.
“No, I only ever got the one.”
Dollancie:
No, there were so many more. All telling you how much I missed you. How much I needed you. I was alone, and I just wanted the one person I thought would always be there for me. I never got a letter from you, but I sent so fucking many, Dollie.
Not one of them ever mentioned Mom or Dad because I needed to forget them for a while.
I needed them out of my head because the whole thing hurt.
Do you really think I’d even consider doing something like that to you?
I gave up everything to keep you safe. I wouldn’t hurt you. I couldn’t hurt you. It would kill me.
Slowly, her eyes drift over the words, then she says, “I never got them. I got one letter from you, and who else could have sent it?”
Dollancie:
Well, I sent them here. Who picked up your mail?
“All my stuff got diverted. There weren’t any letters from you.”
Dollancie:
To where?
“To Shane’s parents’ house. I moved in with him. I couldn’t stay here.”
A disbelieving smile widens my mouth enough for my missing tooth to greet Dollie. Of course, it’s that fucker.
Maybe it’s stupidity on my part, but I figured they’d have moved in together later, and Dollie would have stayed with someone she knew better, like Annabelle.
Surprise widens her eyes and mouth. “You think Shane? Wh—why would he do that? He knew I was pining for you. Why would he want to hurt me like that by hiding your letters?”
Dollancie:
I didn’t send that letter, Dollie. If it looked official, it’s because he had opened all the others and saw how it was meant to look. Maybe even saw things that should have stayed between us.
“But why would he just make that up? Why use Mom to hurt me like that? Why would he be so cruel? He can’t be so cruel! He knew I was struggling with your sentence.”
She’s rambling, spiraling, but she still needs to know the truth.
It wasn’t me who sent that letter.
Dollancie:
And that’s why he did it, Dollie.
He never liked our bond. He still does anything he can to keep you away from me.
Tossing the phone back on the sofa, I move back to her as she sits silently. My hands brush over her tear-stained face, wiping away her emotions.
“He can’t be that awful.” She sobs, all her words coming out broken.
But he is, and I need her to believe me. To believe that no matter what’s been done in the past, I did it all for her. That I’d never hurt her. Never leave her willingly or threaten her life.
All those emotions, desires, and promises sit in my mouth, and I’m unable to say them. I only have one other way for her to taste the truth.
I lean in, hands still on her face as my lips meet hers.
Her eyes stay open, staring into my soul.
Tell me you want this. Do something to show me.
I still fucking need you, and I tremble with how much.
Her soft, pouty lips part and close around my bottom lip. I relax into this and start soft, my tongue slipping past her pretty lips. It’s not enough. It’s thirteen years of something that feels too much like a tragic love story, and it comes out in this kiss that we shouldn’t be having.
Our eyes close in harmony, and my free hand drops to her waist. I tip my head, granting myself deeper access. My fingers leave her face, weaving through her hair, burying themselves in pink waves.
She moans, and it triggers something deep inside me.
Those memories from yesterday and something feral that I should have let sleep, because now she’s beneath me, and my tongue is still deep in her mouth, more passionate and needy and messier than before.
Her nails scrape gently over my skin as she pulls me closer, making me aware that she wants this too. That we’re both done fighting this.
Her legs glide up my sides, and I reach for them, sliding my hand up the back of her thigh, lifting her and pressing into her center, where she’s warm and inviting. I rock my hips, grinding into her, and that noise comes again.
And it’s almost too much.
And I’m about to blow it all.
I’m about to blow.
So, I do the impossible and break the kiss, and I don’t even feel sick this time. I want more.
I place another small kiss just off her lips, and hungrily, she tries to move in for more. Her tongue brushes my lips, torturing me with the slow and sensual movement as I pull away.
Picking up her phone again, I type one last quick message as she lies before me, chest rising and falling, and constantly catching my eye.
Dollancie:
You don’t threaten to kill someone you feel like that about.