Chapter 15
YARA
By the time we get back to Ace’s apartment, I’m feeling the happiest I’ve been in ages.
So far, it’s been as close to a perfect day as I can remember.
First, spending a lazy morning watching the Thanksgiving Day Parade and picking our favorite floats and performances—mine was the Rockettes, who I’ve loved ever since my parents took me to the Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall when I was a kid, and Ace’s was the last float, carrying Santa.
Then we worked on our contribution to Thanksgiving dinner, which was homemade stuffing and fresh-baked rolls, while watching part of the National Dog Show.
“I always wanted a dog,” Ace told me as the sporting group came prancing into the ring. “We had one when I was a kid. Charlie. He was a Golden Retriever. I loved that dog.”
I didn’t have to ask why he didn’t have one while he served. With all the travel involved, he would have had to board the dog more often than not. But now… “Have you thought about getting a dog since you joined Blade and Arrow?” I asked. “I know the other B and A branches have them.”
“Not really,” he admitted. “I guess I kind of gave up on the idea. But—” His expression turned thoughtful. “It’s something to look into.” He stirred the stuffing a few times before asking, “Would you want a dog?”
“We could never have one when I was a kid,” I replied.
“With my dad’s job, we never knew which country he’d be sent to next.
But I think… I might like it. A big, goofy, friendly dog like that.
” I gestured with my chin at a Golden Retriever, named Kingston, rounding the ring, his tail wagging merrily. “I think I might like that.”
Like I’ve been doing more and more lately, I let my thoughts turn to the future.
To a future with Ace, more specifically, and a dog we raise together.
We would take our dog everywhere—on hikes, trips to visit our friends, to dog-friendly restaurants—and maybe we could even train him to be a therapy dog and take him to the VA hospital to visit with patients.
“Do you want to go straight to bed?” Ace asks. He checks the three locks on the front door before turning to me. “Or would you like to stay up a little while to watch some TV?”
“Go to bed?” I glance at my watch. It’s only eight-thirty. Though I don’t stay up as late as I did in my twenties, it’s a bit early to be thinking about bed. Besides, I have other ideas for the rest of the night, and they most definitely don’t involve sleeping.
“I just thought you might be tired,” he replies. “It’s been a busy day. With all the cooking—”
I smile. “Ace. I barely cooked. Mostly, I just sat at the counter and watched. So far today, I’ve watched TV, eaten, eaten some more, and then showed everyone how terrible at bowling I am. I wouldn’t consider any of that to be strenuous.”
“You weren’t terrible at bowling.” He loops his arm around my waist. “You were fine.”
“Fine? My score was a forty. Even kids score better than that.”
“Well.” I can see him thinking of a positive way to spin my abysmal bowling skills into something positive. “Kids use those inflatable bumpers. So their scores don’t count.”
A snort of laughter slips out. “So you’re saying I should use those bumpers next time I play?”
“Um. No?”
“I think that might be more embarrassing than just being bad at bowling.” I move in front of Ace, then rise on my toes to kiss him. With a laugh, I add, “It’s okay. I’ll just be known as Gutter-Ball Yara from now on.”
Ace shakes his head, but he’s smiling as he does it. “Don’t listen to Indy. Or—” He brightens. “Next time we’re bowling and he calls you that, turn the tables on him, and call him Windy Indy.”
“Windy Indy?” I know Indy’s nickname from the Army is Jones, just like Ace’s was King—it stemmed from some poker game he lost miserably at, from what I understand—but I’m not sure where the windy part came from, unless…
“Does he fart a lot?” I ask. “I hadn’t noticed, but that’s all I can think of.”
“No, but that’s kind of where it came from,” Ace replies. “Back when he and Eden were kids, she used to make up some concoction that smelled like farts. And she’d set it off when he had friends over, so they’d think he did it. Then she’d call him Windy Indy to really rub it in.”
I burst out laughing. “Maybe I’m glad I didn’t have siblings, if that’s what they do.”
Ace chuckles. “You should have seen the shit my brother and I did to each other. We were merciless.”
I look over at a family photo of Ace taken before his dad passed away. In it, Ace is flanking his parents on one side; his brother and wife, the other. They’re all smiling, oblivious in the moment to the heartache ahead.
“Was your mom upset that you didn’t visit her for Thanksgiving?” I ask.
“Nope.” Ace heads towards the couch. “She understands that I like to do Thanksgiving here. I’ll see her for Christmas. And anyway, she spent the day with Spence and his family. So that kept her plenty busy. I’ll call her tomorrow to check in and see how everything went.”
A funny expression crosses his face, like he wants to say something, but isn’t sure if he should.
Just as I’m about to call him on it, he says, “You could come. To Austin, I mean. I’m going to do Christmas Eve here, then take a flight first thing Christmas morning out.
We’ll do Christmas that night, and I’ll spend a few days out there, after. Everyone would love to meet you.”
Warmth expands inside my chest. “You would want me to spend Christmas with you?”
He ducks his head before giving me that sweetly shy look. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
My heart flutters.
“It’s okay if you’d rather not,” he adds quickly. “I know it’s a lot, going out to Texas, meeting my family…”
It is a lot, I silently agree. Spending Thanksgiving together with his friends at B and A is one thing, but flying out to Texas to meet his family? That’s a big commitment. People don’t do that unless they’re really serious about each other.
And you’re not? the little voice in the back of my head asks. Really? You don’t feel like things between you are serious? After living in his apartment? Sleeping next to him in bed? Sharing some of your most personal secrets with him?
“I’d like to go,” I blurt. My heart races. “If you’re sure.”
As Ace looks at me, a smile blossoms. “I’m sure.” He frames my face with his hands and lowers his mouth to mine. He still tastes of cinnamon and apple and caramel from the third slice of pie he had during bowling. “I’m definitely sure.”
My good hand comes to the back of his neck. I pull him closer to me, deepening the kiss. With our bodies flush against each other, I can feel his burgeoning erection and the speeding rhythm of his heart. Heat coils at my core, pulsing with need.
When we draw apart, both breathing hard, I grab his hand and start tugging him towards the hallway.
“I thought you didn’t want to go to bed?” Ace asks. His brow creases in confusion. “Or did you change your mind?”
Though it’s not my initial plan, with the shower and dimmed lights, I don’t care.
All I care about is being with Ace. And it’s become apparent that if I wait for him to take the lead, I’ll be waiting until every last bruise on my body is gone and my broken fingers are healed.
If I thought he really wasn’t interested in me like that, it would be one thing. But I’m pretty darn sure he is.
So I’m taking the lead instead. And anyway, who says it’s the man who’s supposed to initiate? Maybe back in the 1950s, they did. But now? I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.
“I do want to go to bed,” I reply in a voice that sounds much huskier than my normal one. “But not to sleep.”
“Do you want to watch TV in bed? I can get snacks—”
“No, not TV.” Picking up my pace, I tow him the rest of the way to the bedroom. Once we reach it, I pull him over to the bed, jerk my chin at the mattress, and say, “Sit.”
Puzzlement creases his brow. “What’s going on, Yara?”
“I don’t want to sleep. Or watch TV. Or have snacks.” Reaching for the hem of my shirt, I lift it up and over my head, leaving me in one of the new lacy bras I ordered once sex with Ace became a possibility. “I want—”
A surge of nerves steals my breath.
Ace’s gaze moves to my chest. His eyes widen. “Yara?”
“I…” Get it together. I’ve done harder things than this.
Except, is baring yourself for the very first time to the man you’re falling in love with such an easy thing? Or is it scarier than any mission?
Taking a deep breath, I start again. “I want you.”
He blinks. “Oh.”
Nervous butterflies careen wildly in my stomach. “I mean, I don’t want to wait anymore. I want to be with you. Unless… Did I read things wrong?”
Surprise jerks his features. “Read things wrong? Shit, no. Of course not.” His hand comes to my side, setting off sparks of heat across my skin. “But you’re still healing. I don’t want—”
“You won’t.”
“But…” His lips thin. “I’m so much bigger than you. Heavier. I could hurt you.”
Bending over slightly, I wriggle my way out of my pants.
Now I’m only in a sheer bra and panties that barely hide anything.
“You won’t hurt me,” I reply. “My bruises are almost completely gone. All the stitches are out. And my hand—” I raise my splinted fingers for emphasis.
“I don’t need to use both for this. I’d like to, but it’s not necessary. ”
“Tink,” Ace breathes. His gaze sweeps up and down my body. His erection presses hard at his pants, stretching them. “Fuck. You’re so damn beautiful.”
My heart jumps nervously. “Do you want me?”
“Yes.” His pupils dilate until there’s nearly no blue left around them. “Are you sure, though? You have to tell me the second anything hurts. I mean it.”
“I will.” My hands reach for his waistband. “But you need to promise me something.”
“Okay?”
“Don’t hold back. I want to be with you. Not a scaled-back version because you’re scared of hurting me. You won’t. Okay?”