“Amazing? Anything else? Because I hate to break it to you baby, but amazing is pretty standard.”
Ace pulls up his boxers, his slacks. His chest is bare and the tattoo on his collarbone, the bone yard remnants, beg me to come closer. To ask questions. But I don't. Ace can't handle them, probably never has.
“Don't be an ass,” I say, my chest heaving as I try to regain control of myself. It feels impossible. I'm exposed.
Maybe I shouldn't have let him fuck me when I was upset. When I was broken.
But Lord knows if I only fucked when I was put together, I'd never get off.
“Do you always use guys like this?” Ace cocks an eyebrow at me.
“And here I thought I was getting fucked by a man.” I smirk, wanting to tease. Knowing that when I do, all traces of my vulnerability are tucked away.
Ace shakes his head, rubs his hand across his neck.
“You are fucking unbelievable, Emmy Rose. You know that?”
“Shush,” I tell him, pressing my finger to his lips. I don't want to go there with a guy like Ace. He isn't safe. He’s dangerous.
I need secure. Or better yet, I don't need anyone. I've never needed anyone before.
“I'm taking you out tomorrow night,” he tells me, completely catching me off guard.
“I work tomorrow.”
“So? I own this fucking place.”
I shake my head, not wanting to admit how much I like it when he speaks to me that way. He isn't asking to take me out—he’s telling me.
I wish I were able to give in to that sort of authority. I wish I was the kind of girl in a position to get swept up—but I’m not. I’m the sort of girl with a sister in the hospital, who needs to be responsible because there’s no one else here to pick up the pieces.
If I let Ace sweep me away, I'll never land on my two feet.
I worked my ass off to put myself through college, and I’m working my ass off now to keep my sister alive, so I don't think it’s cute when he tells me I an brush off work. I can't brush off anything.
“Why didn't you tell me you were Ace Royalle last night?” I asked, taking me turn at keeping him on his toes.
“I told you I was the Boss.” Ace runs his hands over my shoulders, taunting me with his touch.
“You lied to me.” My words are hushed, and I don't know why I am even still in this back room. I came here to fuck him, and I did, and now I should go. Now I should walk away and never look back.
“Would it have changed anything if you'd known?” he asks, taking hold of my chin with his hands. His thumbs stroke my cheeks and I feel my face lean into his hold. “Does it change anything now?”
“No,” I whisper. “I don't care who you are. I'm not going out with you regardless.”
Now I am the liar. I blink and then look away, not trusting myself to look in his deep green eyes.
“Why not?”
I will myself to look up. Biting my lip, I exhale, then say the opposite of what I mean, “Because you’re everything I don't want.”
“That's where you're wrong Emmy. I think I’m exactly what you want, and you know it. That's why you ran earlier—you're scared.”
“Don't talk like you know me.”
But why does it feel like he does?
“Then how do you want me to talk to you?” he asks. “Like I want you? Like I need you? I'll talk to you however you like.”
“Why?”
“Because you fucking had me at hello.”
I threw my head back and gave a sharp laugh. “This isn't a romantic comedy, Ace. I'm not Renee Zellwegger and you sure as hell aren't Tom Cruise. This is my fucking life. And I get it—you're some mafia bad boy and made all this money and get pussy everyday of the week—but I don't want a guy like you.”
Ace shakes his head, not even considering my words. This man is fucking persistent and I don't know why.
All I know is I like it. A lot or too much or everything and more. I want him to want me. I want him to ask a second and a third time. I don't want him to let me go.
It isn't about the chase; this isn't a game. This is about never having a man say he wanted me for more.
“Yes, you do,” he leans his forehead against mine, our bodies quickly pressing together as if it was a ridiculous idea to think anything could keep them apart.
“I don't,” I whisper, scared. Just like Ace guessed.
“You do.”
“I do.”
And then he covers my mouth with a kiss that fucking takes my breath away.
A kiss I'd write home about if there was a family waiting for me.
ACE
We fucked last night.
We'd fucked harder tonight.
But this? This is different.
I swear Emmy is a kaleidoscope—every time I turn the lens a whole new color pours out of her. She'll be fire red or the saddest shade of blue. She'll turn crystal clear with the flick of the wrist, and then just like that she'll be melting in my arms, a puddle of tender purples, all bruised and broken, just wanting to be carried somewhere safe.