“Soon. Chinese first. Though I won’t say no to cookies.”
“Deal.”
I see him out before heading back to the living room. I watch them for a moment while the credits roll on whatever movie they watched, and bask in the glimpse of what my life could be like if I can just be brave enough to take a leap of faith.
“Easier said than done,” I mutter. But that doesn’t stop me from taking out my cell phone and snapping a photo of them. I slip it back into my pocket before reaching for Star. I try to extract her without waking either of them, but Ambros jolts awake when he feels her move.
“Capone is gone. I’m just putting her to bed,” I whisper before heading upstairs with Star. I strip her and slip a nightieover her head, with her barely stirring, before I lay her down and tuck her unicorn under her arm. I tug the blanket up under her chin and press a kiss to her forehead before I head out. I flick the nightlight on as I pass it, so the room’s not too dark, and leave the door open a little so I’ll hear her if she has a nightmare.
I head to my room and glance around, feeling a weird sort of anticipation fill me. Without giving myself a chance to question my newfound confidence, I strip out of my clothes and head to the bathroom to freshen up. Once I’m done, I run a brush through my hair and glance at my reflection.
I take in my pale skin and wary eyes before I straighten my shoulders and glare at my reflection. No. I’m done focusing on the negatives. I let Jasper tear me down for years, in an effort to rebuild me in the image he wanted. I fought tooth and nail to hold on to any semblance of myself, so why the fuck am I so eager to finish off the mental assassination now? He’s dead, and I’m alive. It’s time I remembered that.
I blow out a steady breath and head back into my room, my heart beating so wildly I swear I can feel my ribs rattle. As I move to the door, I spy Ambros’s hoodie hanging on the back of it, the one he gave me the day he rescued me. I wear it when I need to pretend it’s his arms wrapped around me, so it feels fitting that I wear it now. I tug it over my head and slide it down. It hits me mid-thigh, covering everything it needs to, but leaving very little to the imagination.
“Here goes nothing,” I murmur before I pull the door open and head back downstairs. I’m quiet as I approach, but he must sense me because he turns around. Any apprehension I’m feeling begins to melt away under his heated gaze.
“Fuck me.”
“Maybe not just yet, but that’s the end goal,” I tease, though my voice cracks at the end, my nerves bleeding through.
He jumps up from the sofa and stalks around it toward me. I lock my legs so they don’t buckle and stand my ground until he’s right in front of me. We’re not quite touching, but if I take a deep breath, my chest will graze his.
“Tell me I’m not dreaming.”
I reach for his hand and raise it, placing it over one of my breasts. “Does it feel like a dream?”
He groans, his head dropping forward as he takes a few deep breaths. I can feel the air crackle around us, but he manages to rein himself in. Part of me wants him to go wild, to unleash whatever he’s holding back, but I’m realistic enough to know we need to move slowly. It’s harder on us than it would be for regular folk, and I don’t want either of us to walk away with regrets because we pushed too hard, too fast.
“Remember, you say stop, we stop. You say go slow, and I’ll slow it down. Nothing is off limits. Anything you’re curious about or want to try—ask. You’ll get zero judgment from me. I’m serious as fuck here, Citi. If you have any questions, just ask me. There is no such thing as a dumb question between us, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good girl.”
I shiver, caught off guard by how his words make me feel. I’ve heard them before, aimed my way, as if praise could magically wipe away my tears. So why don’t those words make me want to run screaming for the hills now?
“Do I have permission to touch you, angel?”
I nod, but he stares into my eyes. “Gonna need to use your words this time, Citi.”
“Touch me, Ambros,” I whisper.
He dips his head, skimming his lips over mine, but he doesn’t touch me anywhere else. Before I can reach for him, he lifts his head and pulls back. He strips off his cut and hangs it over the back of the sofa before stripping off his hoodie. I make a mentalnote to steal that one too before he reaches for his collar and tugs up his plain white T-shirt and pulls it over his head one-handed.
My mouth drops open, not realizing men look like that in real life.Holy crap. I reach out to touch the hard ridges of his stomach before yanking my hand back.
“You can touch me, angel. You have blanket permission to touch me any damn time, any damn place you want to. I can’t think of anything I want more right now than to feel your hands on me.”
My mouth is dry as a desert, as I reach out with a shaky hand and skim my fingertips down his stomach. He moans, the sound making my toes curl. I do it again with the other hand before hooking my fingers in the waistband of his jeans and tugging him closer.
His hands play with the hem of the hoodie I’m wearing, but he doesn’t seem to be in any mood to rush me. With that in mind, I set out to explore him. His warm skin breaks out in goosebumps under my touch, fascinating me. I move up to one of his nipples and flick over it with my thumb, wondering if they’re sensitive like mine. He moans again as it pebbles, his eyes slipping closed. I take the moment to bolster my courage and dip my head, flicking his nipple with the tip of my tongue this time.
He hisses, making me pause, unsure. “More,” he grunts out, fueling my confidence as I place my trust in him to tell me if I do something wrong. I drag the flat of my tongue over his nipple and reach up to stroke the other, grinning when he shivers. Scratching my nails lightly down his abs, I hesitate at the waistband of his jeans.
His hand slips under mine, popping the button free before slowly lowering the zipper. The noise is as loud as gunfire and has my pulse racing just as fast. I take a step back so I can watch him, my eyes following the path of his hands as he frees hiscock and starts stroking it. I swallow. I’ve seen one dick in my lifetime. I assumed they were a one-size-fits-all kind of deal. I was wrong. There is no way that thing will fit inside me. Hell, it looks like it barely fits in his pants. Oblivious to my mini freak-out, he toes off his boots and shoves his jeans down his legs before stepping out of them.
I’ve watched a lot of TV in my lifetime —movies featuring the most handsome men on the planet —and documentaries about statues and sculptures of the most prominent men throughout history. I have to say, Michelangelo’sDavidhas nothing on this guy. I’m almost afraid to touch him again, not wanting to sully him with my tainted hands and dirty thoughts.
