Alace Sweets, page 4
“Then you know how good that was. Come home with me.” He gave her a little squeeze and a shake, as if he could rattle loose the inconsistency he sensed. “Best kiss I’ve ever had, Querida.” Leaning down, he brushed his closed lips across her cheekbone, then whispered in front of her ear, “Beloved.”
“Best kiss?” The tone of disbelief sounded rank to her own ears, painful as sandpaper across fingertips, scrubbing all identity away for a few short moments. She knew it was good and expected the kiss would make his short list of really good ones. Hell, it rocketed up to her top spot easily. “Ever?”
He nodded, the scruff of his five o’clock shadow just enough to make sure she knew it was a man who held her. Hair tidily trimmed, Eric was someone who faced the world clean shaven, nothing to hide, but now, after spending hours with her, he was more himself than she’d ever seen him. “Baby.” Hot breath fanned across her ear as he murmured the endearment, one hand dipping to flatten against her low back, pulling her close. His jeans and her uniform skirt did nothing to hide the rigid erection that lay hot against her belly. “Never had anyone do that to me with a single kiss.” Alace smiled, and he must have felt the movement because his lips drifted to her jaw, working down the column of her throat. “I want to know what else you can do to me.”
A thin sheen of sweat covered her skin, chasing goose bumps along the bones of her spine. He wanted to know what she could do.
I can kill you fifteen different ways with just my hands and the clothing on your body. I can dispose of you in three locations I’ve already scouted, all within a five-minute drive. But, you are not my mark.
Ardor cooled, Alace pulled Querida back into place in her mind. Time to set him on his heels. “I can pay for my dinner.” Her flat statement had the expected effect and his arms loosened as his head came up.
“What? No. That’s not what…” She kept her head angled down and away, avoiding his expression so she wouldn’t feel quite as guilty. “Querida, that’s not what I mean.”
A noncommittal “No?” was the best she could do, because she still wanted him. A longing bleeding through her that was so fierce it hurt to breathe.
“No.” Adamant, he rattled her again before letting his arms fall away. “Is that the kind of guy you think I am?”
Chin down, she asked, “Are you?” He made a gruff, anguished noise in his throat and slipped his hands around hers, lifting and holding them against his chest.
“Look at me, Querida.” Chin lifting in a rush, she stared into his eyes, daring him to tell her the truth. Are you your father’s son? “I am not like that. Whatever you're used to from whoever made you feel that way, I'm not him, okay?" He shook his head, fingers tensing around her hands, his tight grip dancing the edges of pain. “I would never think a woman owed me anything for a meal. Your company was more than enough. In fact, I think I owe you. I’ve never met anyone quite like you, and I just got…carried away.” He leaned closer, pressing his lips to the tip of her nose for a moment, in a gesture that was far more endearing than it should have been, then pulled back and whispered a truth that shone in his brilliant eyes. “No lie, though. Best kiss I’ve ever had.”
Gaze still locked with his, she let him see through to the honesty of her words when she admitted, “Me, too.”
He smiled, the edges of his mouth curling up, eyes crinkling at the corners, and she got to watch as his gaze warmed, the color of his irises deepening to that of a rich whiskey. “Tomorrow night. Let me take you out.”
“I work tomorrow night. At the bar over by the steakhouse.” He already knew she was employed there; she’d served him enough stout beers to cement the association.
“Then that bar was just guaranteed a filled stool for the duration of your shift.” He stared at her intently, lifting her fingers to press his lips against her curled knuckles. “I’ll be there.”
Without another word, he turned and guided her to his SUV, opening the door for her as if it were something they’d done every night for years. He waited for her to buckle in, then leaned close and pressed a final soft kiss to her lips before closing the door.
Parked in front of her apartment, he halted her hand as she went to open the door and shook his head. She smiled, but waited, content to let him be the one to hand her out of the vehicle. In front of her door, he paused while she unlocked and opened it. Then he reached out a hand to pull it nearly shut, making a silent statement that he expected to stay on this side of the entrance.
Hand to her cheek, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. As it had before, the kiss started as a slow slide and then flared out of control the moment the attraction between them blazed to life. Heads angled back and forth, his mouth slanting over hers again and again until Alace scarcely recognized her own moans. Eric had one hand at her waist, the other threaded through her hair and holding her close. Alace’s arms were twined around his neck, pulling him down as she rose on her toes, back arching with the movement, pressing her closer.
Tongues tangling, that dark flavor she was coming to crave flooded her senses, the scent of his spicy aftershave mixing in the air with the smell of arousal, teasing her to take the kiss just a little farther. Each breath pushing past the next marker and into unmapped territory until he pulled back on a rough groan and once again buried his face against her neck, lips working against the skin there. “Jesus, you taste so fucking good.”
On a sobbing breath, all she could manage, Alace told him the truth, “You taste dangerous, but it’s addictive.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Querida.” Nuzzling her neck, he got her to lift her chin so he could capture her lips again momentarily. “Beloved.”
“See you tomorrow, Eric.” Pulling away, she backed into her apartment and watched as he reached out, knuckles going white as he gripped the doorknob and pulled the door shut. Her inside, him outside. A thud rattled the door, startling her, and she called out, “You okay?”
Voice closer than she expected, Eric responded, “Yeah. Just…can’t quite walk yet. You know?”
“Yeah.” She turned, leaning her shoulders against the door, angling her head to ask, “You want to come inside?”
“More than my next breath.” His answer was immediate, and she was already reaching for the handle when his words stalled her motion. “But, I’ve got a promise to keep.”
“A promise?” He hadn’t promised her anything other than he’d show up at the bar tomorrow night.
“Yeah. I promised you I’m one of the good guys.”
Alace smiled as she shook her head. “Already proved that, Eric.”
“Well, I have it on good authority that you need more convincing.” The door creaked, the wood bending under his weight as he pushed off the surface. “Good night, Querida.”
“Night, Eric.”
“See you tomorrow, Beloved.”
Well, shit. That wasn't supposed to happen.
***
Alace sat on the edge of the bathtub, hands smoothing inexpensive lotion over her skin, the soothing scent of vanilla teasing memories out of hiding. This was the same kind of lotion she’d used five years ago.
That was one of the more reassuring things about the life she’d chosen to lead. How things and events cycled around, all of them wobbling out to the horizon at one point to then circle back close enough to touch. For a moment, the phantom calls of a midway barker sounded in her ears. “Round and round she goes, folks. Where she stops, nobody knows.” Sure as fuck not me.
She cinched the towel tighter and bent at the waist, reaching for the back of her leg, ensuring she covered every inch of skin still soft from the hot shower. The carnival hadn’t been the worst job she’d ever worked to do a gig. There’d been so many more terrible things she’d seen over the years, skimming a bit of money off people who came there for that exact reason didn’t even register as wrong. Malleable morality.
And that, my friends, is one of my least favorite things about…everything.
Alace wasn’t stupid, not by a long shot. Regg had told her once that he reckoned her IQ was even higher than his, a compliment from a card-carrying member of Mensa. She snorted a laugh. I’m smarter? He was the one who lived in the world he made, able to keep family and friends no matter his job simply because he wasn’t her.
Being smart enough to see the next move clearly, as if it were drawn in neon lights, simply meant she stayed ahead of anyone looking for someone like her. It also meant she had enough leeway in her head to allow for an easement system. The insignificant culling of money from a target on the midway was such a far cry from what she’d done to Cecil, Cynthia, Donovan, Trey, Randall, Nick, Jack, Mike—Alace pulled her memories up abruptly, firmly stopping the recital of names before she ran through them all.
Reaching for the bottle of lotion, she lifted it and then felt her belly drop as it unexpectedly slid through her fingers. Reflexes kicked in and her hand clamped down tightly, too tightly. Even as she stopped the bottle’s fall, she caused an eruption of lotion to jet out the top, splattering up the mirror. With a sigh, she set the bottle down and stood, letting the towel drop to the floor. Turning her back to the mirror, she leaned until her shoulders touched the cold surface, hissing at the chill that settled into her skin. Sliding sideways, she used her body to gather as much of the lotion as possible, grinning at the smeared mess left behind. “Always have a backup plan.”
Later, mirror properly cleaned and nightgown donned, she settled on the couch with her laptop open on the coffee table. Movie app launched, Alace leaned backwards then froze at a pounding on her door. She’d made no friends in town, other than Eric. Her landlord knew her, her bosses knew her address. That was it. She didn’t get close to people without reason, and she hadn’t had reason yet. Padding silently towards the door, she looked through the peephole then jerked backwards in surprise.
Opening the door, she only had time to say his name before his mouth was on hers. “Eric.” She barely heard the door settle into the frame over the pounding of blood in her ears, the rasp of his breath gusting across her lips. The sweep of lust carried her into his arms, pushing tight, the buttons on his shirt rough against her breasts through the thin fabric of her gown. “God.” Dizzy, her senses were teetering on the brink, and it felt as if she couldn’t get enough breath, sounds of her forgotten movie playing in the room.
“I went home, swear I did.” The words were muttered against the skin of her throat when he broke the kiss, both of them breathing hard, as if they’d run a race. “Tried to stay away. Tried to wait. Kept telling myself tomorrow. Wait for tomorrow. Couldn’t get the thought of you outta my head, Querida. Needed another taste, baby.” Lips grazed the soft skin behind her ear, sending a shiver up her spine. Rich and low-pitched, the words rasping against any resolve she’d been holding. “Gimme a taste.”
She opened for him again, how could she not when he’d asked so sweetly? His tongue plundered the depths of her mouth, sweeping and tracing the tip of her own before stiffening to thrust inside again and again. His hands rested on her hips, fingers curved and locked into her flesh, holding her close. Eric groaned when she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, her other hand slipping up to cup the back of his head, giving herself to the contact, the kiss, the demands he made of her. He’d had to bend low, their height difference highlighted by her bare feet, and when he made to pull away, she rolled far up on her toes, needing just another moment more.
“That enough to hold you?” As breathless as he was, she let her eyes slowly open to see him staring down at her. He was silent for a moment, then shook his head, dipping close to press a gentle kiss on her lips. “Now?” she whispered against his mouth, shivering when he captured her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently. Tease. He shook his head again but let a lazy smile curve his lips. She loved seeing how it hit his eyes, turning them dark and sweet. Jesus, just the way he tastes. Alace steadied herself with a hand on his arm and one on his chest, lifting to her toes a final time so she could pepper the corners of his mouth with kisses. “Now?” He shook his head again, and she grinned. “It’s a stubborn need, huh?”
“Yeah, baby. It is.” Now that their breathing was back under control, he looked a little chagrined. “I didn’t scare you, did I?”
Alace looked into the face of a sweet man, a kind man. A man who may know what his father had done, but probably didn’t understand the extent of the depravity. She looked into the face of a man who’d met the woman made for him and knew it. Met his soul mate, feasting on her words and lips until he was drunk with lust and still backed away when she told him to. A man who held that resolve as long as he could. She glanced at the clock, then smiled at him. That resolve lasting nearly five hours before he returned to the source of his addiction. “No, Eric. You didn’t scare me.”
Soul mate. Something she’d believed in her whole life but never expected to find for herself. Sometimes the people who sourced her funds were soul mate to one of the wounded ones. Those were the jobs that broke her heart. She knew they’d do anything to bring their loves back to life. Forgive any transgression. Can I have this for myself? She’d never thought it possible.
“I should go,” he murmured, taking a deep breath. In that moment everything rode the blade, the edge along which she lived her life. She could let him go and the next time she saw him, pretend it hadn’t happened quite this way. Play at coy, flirt until he wondered if that was all it had been. It’s what Regg would tell her to do. Fuck, it’s what her gut was telling her to do, and that gut was seldom wrong.
Still. What if she were wrong? He’d be fine, a gentleman, untangling himself from her grip with grace if asked. She’d be fine, eventually. Never the sort to cling, she’d close the door after him as she had once already tonight. Fine was how she’d spent much of her life. Fine was a lie, because it covered up the need. Covered up the want. Fine floated in the space behind her teeth, waiting for the chance to assert itself once again.
The length of a breath drawn and released, no more, yet it was at least a thousand lifetimes agonizing over the decision made with a single word. One syllable.
“Stay.”
“God.” He groaned as he crushed her to him, his actions and the sounds he made revealing how much it had cost him to offer, how much he feared being turned away. Alace had the upper hand here, as she always did, knowing so much about Eric Ward.
Thirty-eight and never married, only dated seriously once. That woman dead in a freak golfing accident, struck by lightning on the fourth hole. Par two, bar none. No passing go from where she’d stood. What could have been a ridiculous death, had become one that had weighed on Eric. A good man, he’d studied the stats and extrapolated the dangers. Spreadsheet in hand, he’d set to work, raising enough money to install lightning detectors not only on the public golf course, but leveraging his contacts to force the private course where his Ariana had died to install their own.
He didn’t stop there, but worked his way in a wave around the county, badgering business owners who sponsored baseball and football teams to cough up just a little more cash, and installed detectors at their playing fields. A good man who took his grief and turned it to good, making his girl’s death a legacy.
Committed to his job, he might be the most dangerous ploy Alace had ever worked. He was a prosecutor, the kind of lawyer she wished had been seated at that table in the long-ago courtroom. With Eric’s intelligence and penchant for doing the right thing, the outcome might have been far different. Not in my cards. She hadn’t nearly that quality a deck at her disposal, and an ignorant teen didn’t know she could have asked for a redeal. Regg had taught her a lot, and her studies had sifted more knowledge into her head.
“Baby.” His hand slipped down her back and over the curve of her ass, fingers spreading, five separate brands of heat against her skin. He gathered the fabric of her gown, dragging it up, the skate of lace and satin along her skin lighting every nerve ending on fire. Then his hand was on her bare flesh, fingertips skimming up to the elastic of her panties and tucking under, pushing down so he could grip her ass again.
His mouth grazed her shoulder, nose buried in her skin, strap of her gown falling away. Alace turned her head, mouthing her own path along his neck, working at him with lips and teeth, nipping and tasting. He lifted and pulled, taking her off her feet and bringing her up his torso until his erection pressed against her core. Wrapping her legs around him as best she could, she hung onto his neck with a steady grip, arching back to gain more friction as her hips tipped again and again. His fingers dug in as his head dipped, mouth following the edge of exposed skin along the upper curve of her breast, each lap of his tongue feeling like he strung lines of electricity in its wake.
“Jesus, Querida.” His head came up, and he peered down at her. “What’s wrong?” Shit. Her flinch at the cover name shouldn’t have been enough to bring him out of the spell they were both under, but somehow he had known.
“What do you want, Eric?” This was her thing, something she never veered from. Explicit statement of expectations and a clarity of awareness. Critical for her, and the reason she’d never fucked a man or woman who was drunk, or stoned, or unsure. She couldn’t ever wonder if she was that person, the one they cringed at the memory of. “Tell me what you want.”
Some of her fucks tried to play it off, dancing around their desires in a way that meant they didn’t know their own needs. Some of them turned all hard attitude in this moment, thinking she wanted to be told what to do. Not it at all, poor schmucks. Eric did exactly what she’d asked. He told her what he wanted, what he hoped for, and—thank God—it lined up perfectly with her own wishes.
“I want to go to bed with you, baby. Wanna love on you until I can’t breathe, until you don’t know your own name.” She stared at him, those dark eyes seeming to see everything inside her at once. Taking it in, accepting all of her, feeding back the need he found there. “I want you to make me come, hard. Want you to want that. Beloved, I want you to tell me what you want, too.”
