by Amelia Wilde
I can’t find the words, so I push harder into him, throwing my legs on either side of his knees, straddling him, pressing the heat of my core to the hard steely length of his cock beneath his pants.
“Jesus,” he whispers, his hands gripping my waist.
“He has—” I suck in a breath. “He has nothing to do with this.”
Ace’s laugh is so sexy I almost split in two, and then his mouth is on my collarbone, and I am lost in the sensation of his lips on my skin, his teeth grazing my shoulder, the dominos are falling, it’s all over and I don’t want it to stop.
Chapter Eight
Ace
Carolyn is burning me alive, and it feels like fucking heaven.
She’s so hot for me that the ride back to the Four Seasons is a haze of kissing, hard, then tender, then wild with the kind of sexual heat I haven’t felt since the last time—
No. Not now. Those thoughts can’t be here. Not now.
She doesn’t hesitate when I tell her I’m going to take her. She doesn’t shy away, just leaps onto me like a tigress. I’d fuck her right now if the driver was someone anonymous who wasn’t likely to give me shit for it later, but I restrain myself for Noah’s sake.
It’s a near thing.
By the time we spill out of the Bentley in front of the Four Seasons, my cock is raging against the confines of my boxers and pants. I’m nearly blind with need for her. If I’m not fucking her in the next five minutes….
The both of us can barely hold it together long enough to get across the lobby to the private elevator, and as soon as the door closes behind us she’s on me, ravenous, a living reflection of my need for her. She hardly seems to notice that we’re speeding toward the penthouse. She has the lapels of my suit jacket clenched in her fists and is pushing me back against the wall, standing on tiptoe to kiss me deep and long and hard.
I let her take control for as long as I can stand it, and then I flex my muscles, pushing away from the wall, pushing her back against the opposite wall, sliding my hand behind her head just before it makes contact.
She sucks in a sharp breath and her grip on my lapels tightens, but her body relaxes a little underneath my hands, ceding control.
It drives me fucking wild.
A woman who isn’t afraid to make the first move, but that tiny shift of her weight, the way she melts under my hands just slightly, tells me that she has a little bit of a submissive side. I’d bet all of my money right now that she’ll goddamn love being bent over my bed and fucked like—
The door slides open and I pull her out into the living room of the suite. Carolyn doesn’t pause for a second, not a single instant, to survey the space, like it’s not one of the city’s most opulent set of rooms. She’s not a wide-eyed small town girl, that’s for damn sure. Either that or, like me, she’s totally consumed by what’s happening between us right now, burning up in the flames and loving every moment of it.
I sweep her through the living room and into the master bedroom. When I bring us to a stop in front of the glittering canopy bed, her focus shifts to the buttons of my jacket.
Her hands tremble slightly but she doesn’t fumble with the buttons, undoing them one by one with slick efficiency, her eyes narrowed. As soon as the last one is free she slips her hands into the jacket and shoves it off my shoulders, leaving me to strip it off and drop it to the ground. By the time it falls to the floor she already has three buttons of my shirt undone, then yanks it out of my pants. I shrug it off and she goes for my belt.
I stop her, catching both of her wrists in one of my hands. “Not fair,” I growl, and her eyes widen a little. I smile at the pink in her cheeks, at her heaving breaths. “I’m half-naked, and you’ve still got an entire dress on.”
“Take it off.”
Her voice is low, tight with desire, and I don’t hesitate to give her what she wants.
I turn her with one quick motion, my fingers finding the zipper and tugging it down, then the dress, slipping the red, silky fabric over the curve of her hips to reveal a black bra and panty set that’s mostly lace, covering an ass that could launch a thousand ships.
Carolyn turns back to face me, and I have to take a step back, bite down on one of my knuckles just to keep from ravishing her right here on the floor. The curve of her waist is a fucking symphony, and it plays right along with the swell of her breasts, the lithe legs, the shoulders that make me want to—
“If you’re going to stare at me all night, at least put your hands on me.”
Fuck yes.
I start with her bra straps, hooking one finger underneath each one and pulling them down over her shoulders, and she trembles when I reach behind her and unclasp it, exposing her hard, pink nipples already pebbled with desire.
The panties are next. I drop to my knees and pull them down her legs, inch by agonizing inch, exposing pure perfection. I could fucking worship that all night, but my cock is painfully hard. No more waiting.
She scrambles over to the bed while I rid myself of shoes, socks, pants, boxers, my cock standing straight out. Carolyn sits propped on her elbows, eyes huge and dark, biting her lip, and it takes me two steps to get to her, one movement to be on the bed on top of her, exploring her mouth with my tongue, knocking her knees apart with mine, spreading her wide beneath me.
Carolyn moans into my mouth and opens herself a little bit wider, begging without words.
What kind of man would I be if I let her down now?
I take my cock in my fist and line myself up with her opening, slick and ready and waiting, and she spreads her arms out to either side, tips her head back, and whispers “please.”
I lose control, slamming into her with all the pent-up force of the last few months, and she cries out and wraps her legs around me, drawing me in, and I’m crashing into her, drowning in her, and I never want to come to the surface.
Chapter Nine
Carolyn
I wake up deliciously slowly in Ace’s bed at the Four Seasons, the gray light of the early morning filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling windows that reveal the New York City skyline. Ace still sleeps deeply, curled on his side like he’s trying to protect himself.
This is one hell of a room. I stifle a laugh when my brain finally registers that I’m in a canopy bed. It’s so over the top. And I’m pretty sure there’s gold woven into the sheets.
What’s Ace doing here? This has to be the most expensive hotel room in the city, and it’s common knowledge that he has enough money to buy several places of his own. He’s got himself a little palace on top of the Four Seasons, but he can’t stay here forever.
What do I know? Maybe he could.
My muscles are relaxed, and there’s a heat in my chest that stands in contrast with the cool of the room. I don’t remember it being so cold when we first came in, but my mind was occupied with other things. How convenient that Ace likes his rooms at the same temperature I do!
A match made in heaven, I think to myself, then roll my eyes.
I’m trying to play it off like last night wasn’t a big deal, but it was earth-shattering. Ace played me like a violin. I think we had sex three separate times, but in the middle he stroked the most sensitive parts of my folds, traced circles around my nipples with his tongue, licked his way down to the hot, wet center of me and thrust his tongue inside—
My pussy clenches just thinking about it. A new wave of heat rushes through me.
Should I wake him up?
No.
Too early.
I scoot carefully to the side of the bed and put my legs over the side, my feet making contact with the plush carpeting. Shower. Cool off. Wait for him to wake up on his own.
The master bathroom isn’t far. I pad over and close the door behind me.
More floor-to-ceiling windows. I let out a low laugh, because Jesus, this place is something else. I can’t decide if it’s gaudy or amazing. Maybe it’s both.
I pass up the infinity tub—maybe later—and head for t
he shower, which is by far the fanciest shower I’ve ever seen, and I grew up with the Pierce brothers. My own family’s house had lovely bathrooms that my mother constantly had remodeled, but this one is on another level.
I linger in the heat, shampooing my hair, letting the water envelop me and run down my breasts, between my legs.
Last night was hot. So damn hot. I told myself that I’d enjoy him once, then get the hell out, but…I want more.
I want more of his hands on me. I want more of feeling so free, so adventurous. I want to do dirty, dirty things with this man…and I get the impression he’d be willing to go there, too. I want to feel his weight pressing down on me, his strength holding me in place while I buck against it….
Heat races down my spine, straight between my legs, and I turn toward the stream of water and let it fall on the back of my neck while I slip my fingers down to my clit and start rubbing in small circles. Fuck, it’s been forever since a man made me feel like this, so damn needy.
Legs trembling, I bring myself up and over the edge of an orgasm, silent and quick. In my fantasy he comes in at the last moment and sees me, steps into the shower with me….
The door to the bathroom doesn’t open.
My shoulders tense while I dry off and work my hair into some semblance of order. There’s a flutter in my chest, a ragged heartbeat.
I can’t wait any longer.
But when I pull open the door and step back into the bedroom, everything is wrong.
Ace is standing in front of the massive windows, a dark outline against the lightening sky. The set of his shoulders tells me everything I need to know.
I swallow hard.
“Hey.”
He turns toward the soft sound of my voice, and even in the dim light of the room I can see the set of his jaw. “Good morning.” It’s not an invitation to get back into bed.
“How—how are you?”
“Fine.”
He turns back to look over the city again, and my heart plummets into my stomach. I was stupid to hope that this bliss would last longer than one night. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Ace is just like all the other men.
My cheeks heat up. I’m standing here like an idiot, wrapped in a towel like I’m some kind of gift for him to unwrap, and he doesn’t want it.
Where are my clothes?
The only silver lining is that they’re all together in a heap at the foot of the bed.
I scramble into my bra and panties, then slip the dress back up over my hips. I zip it to the best of my abilities, put my feet back in my shoes, and look around the bedroom one more time. My purse?
I dropped it somewhere near the elevator.
I’m almost out the door when Ace’s voice cuts through the silence. “Carolyn?”
“Yeah?”
His arms are crossed in front of his chest, shoulders rounded slightly to the front like he’s expecting a blow to the gut. His eyes are thunderclouds. His eyes are the center of a storm.
“We—” He raises a hand, gestures to the empty space between us. “We probably shouldn’t do this again.”
Are you kidding me? “No shit,” I say, acid in my tone, and turn on my heel and go.
My purse is right where I left it last night.
On the sidewalk in front of the Four Seasons, the doorman beckons a taxi over for me, and I slide into the back, choke out my address to the cabbie.
I don’t let a single tear fall on the way home.
Chapter Ten
Ace
I’m a complete prick, and I know it the moment I turn to see Carolyn’s face when she emerges from the bathroom, her hair wet, cheeks pink, a smile on her face. I’ve known it for a long time. I just didn’t think I would have to trot out my usual asshole tendencies to get rid of a woman this soon after arriving back in New York.
And, fuck, this is exactly why I didn’t want to get involved with anyone.
My life is a mess.
After what happened with Elisa….
The Italians didn’t publicize what happened after Elisa died. After the last time an American was accused of a heinous crime on Italian soil, it became an international fiasco. The officials I talked to wanted no part of that.
Carolyn’s not going to want any part of that either.
The news is going to come out sooner or later. I’ve attracted too much attention by even being in the city.
More than that, more than all of it, I just can’t take the risk.
It makes me fucking furious, the way my mind recoils from the thought of getting deeply involved with another woman, but I can’t deny it. Last night was unbelievable. Carolyn’s body fits to mine like we were made for each other from the start. Every movement she makes is exactly what I want, what I need, in that moment. There’s no way she’s not right for me.
Which means she’s absolutely, positively wrong for me.
The end game is always a sucker punch, and one more minute with her will mean I’m in over my head.
It’s not worth the inevitable gut-wrenching loss.
I’m short with her. And then, when she’s leaving, her face flaming red, shoulders tensed up toward her ears, I drive home the final blow.
“Carolyn?”
She turns back toward me, and there’s a glimmer of hope in her face.
So what do I do?
I crush it underneath my foot like one of the expensive baubles on the bookshelves.
“We—” Fuck. I don’t want to be saying this, but it’ll be better for her in the long run if I say it now and spare her the fallout. I wave my hand in the air between us, dismissing the intensity of what happened last night. “We probably shouldn’t do this again.”
Her chin quivers, just for a split second, and then her mouth curves downward into a semblance of a sneer that doesn’t quite convince me. “No shit.”
Then she turns and jams her thumb into the call button for the elevator. The doors slide open, and Carolyn Banks doesn’t look back as she steps inside and presses the button for the lobby, with delicate care this time. Her dark eyes are blazing, but she doesn’t meet my gaze. She doesn’t have to tell me to fuck off. It’s clear as day.
As soon as the doors hide her from view, I fucking lose it.
Silently, my fists clenched in front of my mouth, I double over.
What the fuck was I thinking, letting her get to me like that?
What am I, some kind of glutton for pain?
Is that really what I want out of life, loss after loss because I can’t resist a gorgeous woman at a dining club?
She’s not just any woman, the little voice in the back of my mind says, insistently, repeatedly, until I drown it out with another shitty movie that I watch but don’t see.
She’s not.
What happened between us last night wasn’t just a one-night stand, as much as I wanted it to be meaningless and casual. There’s no denying it.
So I won’t deny it.
But I will move on.
I have no other choice.
I dig my phone out of my pocket. I don’t know when I put on this pair of sweatpants—expensive as fuck and not worth the price—but I look like shit, I look like a mess.
I can’t go on like this.
Change of plans.
Noah responds like he’s been hovering over his phone, waiting for me to summon him. Probably he has. God knows I pay him enough.
What can I do, boss?
Call the realtor. Have her list my penthouse for sale immediately. And have her send over a list of her top three available properties. I want to be moving on this by tomorrow.
It’s the weekend, but she’s not going to care. With enough money at your disposal, business hours have no meaning.
Consider it done.
I’d call her myself, but before I call anyone, I need to get a fucking grip.
I’m not the kind of man to sit around, holed up in the world’s most expensive hideout. I’m not the kind of man who’s going to le
t his chewed-up-and-spit-out heart make him into some pussy who can’t face the world.
Everything from my past life here, the life before Elisa, has to go.
There’s a thrum of electricity in my chest. A clean slate. A new life. Those fucking paparazzi will find me. The news will break. But this time, I’m going to be in control of what happens to me. I’m not going to sneak past them into my old apartment. I’m going to walk with my head high into my new place, and let the chips fall where they may.
And I’m not, under any circumstances, going to think about Carolyn Banks, and her perfect ass, and her unbelievable breasts, and the way her dark hair curled down against my chest, and the way she moaned when I stroked her, and the way she shuddered and shook against me when she came….
I’m not going to think about her for another goddamn second.
Last night was a mistake. A fucking sexy mistake, for sure, but a mistake nonetheless. And it’s over now. It’s going to stay over.
I stand up from the couch, turn the TV off, and stride into the master bathroom, stripping off the rumpled clothes.
I’m going to take a shower. I’m going to shave. I’m going to get dressed.
And then I’m going to take the rest of my life in my fists, and I’m going to make it mine.
Chapter Eleven
Carolyn
All I want is for Ace Kingsley to disappear from my life, to go back to wherever it is that he dropped in from.
On Saturday, when I get back to my apartment, the silence reminds me of a cathedral. Instead of empty and depressing, the absence of sound—except the low hum of my refrigerator in the kitchen, the blowing air from the air conditioning unit as it cycles on and off—it wraps itself around me like a blanket. After the thundering noise of the Swan and the serrated daggers of Ace’s voice this morning, I can’t even bear to put my iPhone in its dock and play background music to work.
