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 10
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.”