“I overheard him at one of the poker rooms at Elysium.” My eyebrows furrow together slightly, my confusion overriding everything else. What does that have to do with me? “My club owns Elysium and I’ve been known to oversee the private rooms. They’re exclusive and Donald loves to impress his friends.” He pauses as if weighing his next words. “Donald wants to get you into his bed. I’m glad you didn’t touch the drink he brought to you.”
My blood runs cold and I want to jerk away from Ace, to put some distance between me and his words even though it won’t change the truth in them.
“I was never going to drink it. I don’t trust him,” I murmur, my words too damn soft for the setting we’re in. Yet, I feel just as breakable as they sound.
“You have good instincts. You should trust them.” His head tilts to one side. “What do your instincts tell you about me?”
When I don’t answer right away, mostly because saying the words out loud are ridiculous, a slow smile grows on his face. The way his blueeyes sparkle tells me he knows exactly what my gut is telling me about him. And he likes it.
“It’s your eyes that give you away, Hollywood,” his voice feels like a caress. “Most people probably don’t pay attention because it doesn’t serve them.” He pauses like he’s not sure if he should say his next words out loud, but I’m desperate for them. Finally, he murmurs, “I’ll always pay attention.”
The way I know his promise means something makes my breath hitch. I blink a few times as I look at the man in front of me.
He’s too young for me.
He’s too rough for me.
He’s too much trouble for me.
I left LA looking for some sort of escape. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind, considering I was thinking more about stability than the feeling of being pulled down by quicksand. It’s unnerving.
I’ve never felt more alive.
The air between us crackles with something that grows and looms larger with every breath we take. I can’t seem to look away from his eyes, even though I want to.
“Always?” I sass him, needing my attitude to be a shield against him. “That’s big talk for a biker I met at an underground poker game.”
“If that’s the version of the story you want to go with, that’s fine with me,” he tells me, his eyes darkening while something shifts behind them. Something I don’t think I can examine right now.
“It’s the version I know,” I shoot back.
He makes a humming sound before his lips brush the shell of my ear. His words are a plea I’m not prepared for, “Let me take you out of here? Let me show you how I find freedom.”
Howdoes he know what I’m searching for? What my soul yearns for?
I swallow hard, the tips of his fingers dig into my flesh, reminding me of the way he’s holding me. As if I could ever forget.
He surrounds me completely. It’s comforting. It’s maddening.
I can’t remember the last time I allowed someone to be this close to me when there wasn’t some sort of scene involved and cameras rolling. It’s different.
Ace didn’t ask permission to touch me. He didn’t think twice before pulling me close. I should be running from him.
But I like the way he touches me. Struggling and stepping away never crossed my mind; the thought of it is abhorrent. The last thing I want to do is run.
Which means there’s only one thing to do. And it aligns perfectly with my whole vibe for my time here.
“Yes.”
The word lands between us and Ace’s body tenses. His eyes find mine and bore into me.
“Show me how you find freedom, Ace,” my voice is soft, coaxing in a way I don’t normally allow.
“Hawkins,” he whispers. “The only name you’ll ever call me again is Hawkins, Quincy.”
I nod slowly, a lump forming in my throat which I can’t explain. I consider, as he leads us out of the room, a huff coming from behind us that I’m sure belongs to Donald, maybe I don’t need to explain it. Maybe I can just feel and see what happens.
Maybe something in my life doesn’t have to be about my entire existence being about my brand and my career. I’m not even sure I want it anymore.
