Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59739 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59739 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Ace steps in too, not bothering to admire the view—he just puts his hands on my waist and presses his forehead between my shoulder blades, like he needs to make sure I am real and here and not about to vanish. His moans sound basically the same as mine as the hot water washes over his skin. For what feels like hours, we just stand there, eyes closed, tangled in each other, letting the hot water wash over us.
“Holy shit,” I moan, half-laughing, “I forgot what hot water actually felt like.”
He grumbles something against my back. “If you want me to leave you alone with it, I can.”
We both know he isn’t going to do that.
Instead, he grabs a bar of soap and works it into a lather, then starts washing my skin in slow, careful circles. His hands are rough, but gentle. Tender, even. He works from my shoulders down my arms, every inch, every scar, even my hands, which he holds with more reverence than I know what to do with. I don’t know if it’s love, or just the relief of finally being safe for a second, but I could melt right here. When he turns me around, I let my head fall against his chest, just for a second, so the steam can fog up my brain and make it impossible to think.
Ace lifts my chin. “You good, darlin’?”
I nod, unable to summon words, so I answer by winding my hands into his wet hair and kissing him like I’ve been starving for weeks. Maybe I have. He tastes like soap, salt, and maybe a little blood. He kisses me harder, pushes me back against the wall, hands everywhere, slick with water and heat and nothing but wanting.
We stay like that for a long time, and then he breaks the kiss and sinks to his knees. It’s so unexpected, I almost laugh, but there’s nothing funny about the way he looks up at me, hair stuck to his forehead, beard dripping, eyes molten.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
His hands are on my thighs, thumbs stroking up, up, up. He grins, wicked and hungry. “The fuckin’ things I would do to taste you, Gracie. You don’t want to know.”
Oh.
Oh my.
I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything except squeeze my fists hard against the wall behind me as Ace braces his hands on my thighs and pulls me forward. I’ve seen every possible Ace, but this Ace—the one kneeling on the corroded shower floor, water pounding over his broad back, so hungry for me. Oh yes, this Ace might be my favourite.
He starts slow, his lips grazing my inner thigh, right above my knee, planting a kiss so soft I want to scream. It’s torture; his hands are big enough to span my hips, and he uses every bit of that grip to anchor me in place as his mouth works up, nipping, kissing, licking a line that makes my knees wobble. Steam fills the small space quickly, but it’s his tongue that is causing the most heat, flicking behind my knee before he nips just enough to make me gasp, just enough to make my fingers tangle into his wet hair.
I have never been more desperate for anything in my life.
The very thought of him doing what I know he is about to, is nearly enough to bring me to my knees.
The fantasies I have had of this exact moment.
“You... you don’t have to—” I try to say, but he cuts me off with a growl, a low, steady thing that vibrates up my leg to every part of me.
“I fuckin’ want to,” he rumbles, and suddenly his mouth is on me, devouring, tongue sinking into me, stroking over my clit with a quick burst.
He swears again, a string of filthy praise I can’t even register because all that matters is his tongue, swirling, then sucking, then working me in a rhythm that has me gasping. I want to tell him that we’re going to fall over, that the water’s too hot, that I need him inside me so bad I might actually combust, but nothing comes out except a strangled moan.
He just keeps going, switching between delicate little flicks and rough, hungry sucks with maddening precision, like he’s mapped my body and knows exactly what I need. My hips start moving, chasing his mouth, and he has to pin me harder, rougher, but I love it. I love the way he won’t let me escape him. My head hits the wall, and the sensation is nothing compared to the electricity threading through my nerves—every lick, every glide of his tongue shoots right up my spine.
He looks up at me, eyes hungry, water trickling down his jaw and over the curve of his lips, trailing off his now long and fucking gorgeous beard. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growls, and I can see he means it. He really, truly means it.