I turn the question back on him. “Is it okay foryou?”
Sure, I’m not touching him, but he did touch me a lot.
Ace nods, though there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. “I talked a lot with my therapist the last few days.”
“Therapist?”
“Yeah. Online. Koen helped me find her. She’s the best money can buy, and she knows her stuff about… my kind of problems.” He glances down at our joined hands, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “It’s not easy, though. Every session feels like ripping out stitches and hoping the wound heals better this time.”
“I’m sorry it’s hard, but you doing that is amazing. I guess I should look for one myself.”
The therapist who gets stuck with me is going to have the field day of their career.
Hi, I’m Nova. I strip for a living, pick pockets for fun, and collect emotional baggage like it’s a Black Friday sale. Oh, and I’ve got a lineup of lovers who probably need therapy more than I do. Good luck untangling this mess.
Ace glances up at me, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile. “You should. For me, it’s already helping. I can give you her contact, or…” His smirk grows. “We could let Koen look for one for you. He’s very good at that kind of thing.”
I arch a brow. “What kind of thing?”
“Throwing money at people until they clear their schedule to make room for appointments with a new client.”
I chuckle again, the sound lighter this time. “Ah. Of course.”
Ace’s laugh is soft, almost a hum, as he finishes tightening the straps on the skates, his fingers brushing my ankle one last time before he leans back on his heels. His eyes scan my face as if to make sure I’m really okay, then he pulls his skates toward him and starts putting them on.
Once he’s done, he stands, towering over me for a moment, then hesitates. “I want to help you up,” he says quietly. “And try holding your hand. But I might need to let go after a few minutes.”
I nod quickly, eager for any contact he will give. “Okay.”
He extends a hand toward me, and when I place mine in his, his grip is firm but careful, as if he’s terrified of squeezing too hard. He pulls me up, steadying me as I wobble for a moment on the skates. His hand doesn’t leave mine, though, and the warmth of his touch spreads through me like wildfire.
“How is it?” I ask when he doesn’t let go of me.
“Much easier than expected.” He squeezes my hand. “Because it’syou. Being with you feels the same as it was before.” He smiles, and that little gesture makes my heart flip. “And I’ve been having some intense sessions,” he admits, his gaze fixed on where our hands are joined. “Because I want to get over this the fastest way possible. My therapist is confident I will. At least with you. But honestly, I only need to be able to touch you and get touched by you anyway.”
My heart catches in my throat. “What did she say?”
“She says I have to remind myself of why this matters to me, why rebuilding intimacy with my girl is so much more important than my fear, and let that motivation guide me.” His thumbstrokes over my knuckles. “And to remind myself that you would never hurt me. That you were never the one who hurt me.”
He still thinks of me as his?
“Believe me, Trouble, my motivation is so damn high. I… I need us to talk openly and communicate. And I need you not to be mad at me when I fuck up.”
“Of course.” I roll forward a little on the skates, wobbling slightly, but his grip on my hand tightens, steadying me. “It’s okay. You have trauma. I do too. There’s no rush, no expectation at all. I just… this.” I lift our joined hands. “This is already everything. You have no idea how much it means to me to talk to you. You don’t have to do anything else.”
“I do, Nova. I fucking do. Because I’ve craved you for years. I craved having you back, touching you, kissing you…” he takes a shaky breath, “… and now I could have it. I have you back. You’re here, a fucking miracle back from the dead. And I will not let myself get in the way of what I want.”
Oh my God.
I take a deep breath, but it makes me roll forward a little too far, and the wheels catch on a tiny crack in the driveway. I yelp, the sound embarrassingly similar to the dying baby goat he accused me of sounding like, and flail for balance.
Ace’s other hand shoots out, grabbing my forearm to steady me. Now, both of his hands are on me, and it flusters me more than I care to admit. “I-I’m sorry,” I stammer, trying to laugh it off. “You should’ve let me fall on my ass. That wasn’t some ploy to get you to touch me, I swear.”
Ace lets out a laugh, a loud, carefree sound that’s so much like how he used to laugh. And right then and there, I make a silent promise—I’ll do everything in my power to hear that sound as often as possible.
But first, we have to talk this out. Sylus, Koen, and—God—even Nicholas. The fact that I’m a stripper. I have to tell him. He has to know everything.
“You called me your girl.”
