Chapter 17
YARA
“Fuck, Yara, do you know how incredible you look?”
Ace’s gaze moves from my breasts, to my stomach, and then down to the place where we’re joined.
It’s a perfect contradiction—my trimmed curls a dark contrast to his light ones, and his body thick with muscle while mine is toned and lean.
His hand splays across my lower belly, spanning it, and as he looks at the picture it makes, his lips curve into an appreciative smile.
I wiggle my hips a little, and he jerks inside me. His abs tighten, and the tendons of his neck stand out. His hand moves to my breast, plumping it. His fingers pluck at my nipple, teasing it into a hard peak before giving it a gentle pinch.
The slight flare of pain is the perfect counterbalance to the pleasure storming through me. My inner walls clutch at him, desperate to keep him inside me. Desperate to hang onto this incredible sensation of fullness, of a completion only Ace can bring.
“You look pretty incredible, too,” I reply. Leaning forward, I place my hand on his chest, feeling his heart thudding fast beneath it. The new angle makes him hit a sensitive spot deep inside me, and a rush of arousal slicks us.
My core squeezes.
My lungs forget to work.
Ace palms my ass, pulling me flush against him. Somehow, though I wouldn’t have thought it possible, he grows even thicker inside me.
As he meets my gaze, a corner of his mouth curves up. “I don’t know about how I look. But seeing you on top of me—” He leans me back, then drags his hand down to my center. Finding my exposed bud, he rubs it. Strokes it. Gives it a gentle pinch.
My thighs quiver.
My heart races.
Pressure builds inside me; a star burning hot, on the cusp of exploding.
“I love seeing you stretched around me like this,” he continues. His voice is rough. Hungry. The timbre resonates inside me, setting off a flutter of excitement in my belly. “You fit me so perfectly.”
Ace thrusts up, filling me until it feels like I can’t tell where he ends and I begin. I gasp, and my head falls back. My eyes flutter shut as the star burning inside me threatens to supernova.
“Ace,” I moan. “Oh—”
He lifts me off him, until he’s barely inside me, then pulls me back down.
His fingers rub harder. Faster.
Through half-shut eyes, I watch Ace as he takes control. Before, he was satisfied to let me take the lead. But even though I’m on top, he’s more than strong enough to maneuver me where he wants me.
I don’t mind. Though I’ve spent the better part of two decades trying to prove I’m just as strong and capable as the men I served with, I’m finding it’s a welcome change, relinquishing control sometimes.
Or at least, it is when I’m with Ace, because I trust him. Because I don’t feel like I have anything to prove to him. Because he doesn’t expect me to be someone I’m not.
No, Ace likes me just as I am. Robot-obsessed, former Green Beret Yara, who isn’t the most feminine and would rather work on projects than go shopping for clothes, who’s still grappling with things that happened three years ago, and is gradually coming to terms with the new person she’s become.
Ace understands me. And I understand him.
Gazing down at him, taking in his lust-darkened eyes and the hungry lines of his features, my heart swells with a feeling more intense than anything I’ve felt before.
I still haven’t told Ace I love him. But I do. At first, I wasn’t sure, since I’ve never truly been in love before. Cared about men I dated, felt deeply for them, yes. But loved? No.
But with Ace… it’s different. The feelings I have for him are all-encompassing. And now that I’ve experienced what life is like with him, I can’t imagine going back to how things were before.
“Ah, Tink,” Ace groans as he tilts my hips back, changing the angle of our joining. He bumps against that spot, the one that promises ecstasy, and my core convulses around him. “Fuck, you feel so damn good. I can’t—”
His grip tightens.
His biceps flex.
He rocks his hips, sinking impossibly deeper.
All the muscles in my body tighten.
I make a throaty, needy sound—half moan, half whimper. “Ace, oh, that feels—”
In one quick move, Ace rolls me over so I’m beneath him. Bracing himself above me, he drives into me, his control finally spent.
His mouth comes to my throat.
I lift my legs and wrap them around his waist, holding us together.
Pleasure comes in waves, one after another, each one more intense than the last.
Ace moves faster. Plunges deeper. Harder.
His body is a masterpiece, a Greek god come to life and gifted to me.
Then he looks at me.
Not with lust this time, or hunger, but filled with an emotion that makes my eyes burn.
I almost say it. I love you. It’s on the tip of my tongue. But something holds it back.
Instead, I stretch up to kiss him with all the love in my body. All the love I’m still too afraid to admit. He cups the back of my head and kisses me hard, meeting each stroke of my tongue with his own.
Our bodies crash together, kindling the fire burning between us. Our teeth clack. Our breaths grow heavy. Labored. Perspiration slicks our skin.
And then, in one final thrust, I explode. Convulsing around him, squeezing him, urging him to leap over the edge along with me.
Seconds later, he does. Pulsing inside me in hot spurts, filling me.
I never thought much about how it would feel, being bare with a man, feeling him come inside me. If anything, I thought about how messy it would be. How risky.
But with Ace, it feels right. Natural. Like it’s something we’re meant to do.
Ace keeps thrusting inside me, but more slowly, drawing out our pleasure. Aftershocks ripple through us. My muscles go lax. A languid sensation comes over me, like I could cuddle up against Ace and sleep for hours.
After a minute or so, he rolls back over, draping my body across his. His arms come around me, enveloping me in his warmth. He presses a kiss to my head, lingering there. One hand rubs slow circles on my back.
“I could get used to this,” he says. He kisses me again. “Waking up to feel your hands all over me, climbing on top of me…”
I nuzzle his neck, smiling against it. “You didn’t mind me waking you up before the alarm went off? And making you late for your workout?”
“Tink.” Amusement tinges his voice. “Are you kidding me? An annoying alarm or a beautiful woman touching me? And I’ll take this kind of workout over anything I can do in the gym.”
“You make a good point,” I agree. “I think I’d prefer sex to an alarm, too.”
“We can take turns,” he replies. “One morning, I’ll wake you up, the next, we can switch.”
“I like the sound of that.” But even as I say it, a bittersweet pang hits me.
It’s one thing to talk about waking up next to each other every morning, but the reality of it isn’t as pleasant.
Mainly because it’s nearly December, which means it’s almost time to head back to my place in Rainier Beach.
I already knew it would be hard leaving Ace. But after his confession last night, it feels like we’ve reached a new stage in our relationship. A stage that makes me think about a future with Ace in terms of years, instead of months. A stage that makes me wish I could stay here for good.
Logically, I know I have to leave. I have a job. A house, albeit a rental, but I recently renewed a year-long lease. And it’s not like Ace has brought up the idea of me staying—it’s just something I’ve spun in my head, wondering and wishing.
“Yara?” Ace’s hand on my back stills. “Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you when I got on top, did I?”
Shaking free of my wistful thoughts, I reply quickly, “Oh, no. Not at all. I was just thinking, is all.”
“Nothing bad, I hope.”
“Nothing bad. I was thinking about your sex as an alarm clock idea. I like it. Although…”
“Although? I thought you said it wasn’t anything bad.”
“It isn’t. Technically.”
“Technically?” Ace rolls me over again and climbs off me. He grabs a few tissues from the box he started keeping on the nightstand and cleans me up. Then he gets back under the covers and turns so he’s facing me. “What does technically not bad mean?”
“It means not bad. Just… a little sad.”
“Sad?” His eyebrows jump up. “Why are you sad? Did I do something? Are you having second thoughts about us?”
“No. You didn’t do anything. Wrong, I mean. And I’m not having second thoughts.”
Worry darkens Ace’s eyes. “Then what?”
I feel bad turning what was a wonderful experience into something negative. “Talking about every morning, it got me thinking about how we won’t be able to do that. Not every morning, at least. Maybe on the weekends, we could alternate. Or when I get a vacation—”
“Yara. What are you talking about?”
“Going back to Rainier Beach. It’s almost December.”
“So?”
“So, we said I’d stay until then. And I know it’s fine, we’ll see each other on weekends and stuff, but I guess…” My heart gives a nervous skip. “I’m just going to miss you. That’s all.”
Ace pushes himself up on one elbow. His forehead creases. “You’re still planning on leaving next week? I thought we were going to go into Portland for the holiday market. And Williston has its annual tree-lighting next Thursday.”
I tug at the edge of the blanket. “I thought we agreed on December. That’s what you suggested.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he just looks at me.
My heart skips another beat.
“Do you want to go back?” he finally asks.
The old, staunchly independent Yara nearly insists that of course, I want to go back. That I have a house and a job and I’m perfectly fine being on my own again. That Yara doesn’t want to admit that the thought of leaving Ace makes me feel like crying.
Then there’s the new Yara, the one Ace helped bring to life. And that one speaks up before the other one can. “Not really,” I admit quietly. “I like it here. With you.”
Confusion clouds Ace’s face. “Then why—”
“Because I have a job. A house. I mean, it’s a rental, but there’s a lease. And I’m sure you want your space back. You brought me here to stay in the client apartment, and instead, you ended up with me living with you.”