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He collapses into the seat beside me, rubbing his tired eyes the way I did mine when I first sat down. He’s back to not sleeping well, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m the reason. If he can feel me withdrawing. It’s not like I’ve been subtle about it.
I hug myself closer and pull the blanket tighter. It is cold out here. I have no idea how he’s sitting there with no shirt on. I’m cold just looking at him. But I need something between us. The few inches he’s left aren’t enough.
The silence is disjointing, given his usual morning greeting. He usually finds any reason to touch me, usually asks me how I slept, if I want coffee. But not this morning.
This morning, he’s tense.
Not for the first time, I wonder if he knows I’m planning on leaving. I haven’t written it down or made any plans that he could possibly know about, but I’ve always suspected he could read my mind. When we were kids, he knew when I was hungry even when I didn’t make a sound, he knew when I was scared without me saying a word, and he always knew me better than I knew myself.
When I can’t handle the silence for another second, I wrap the blanket around my shoulders and stand. I give Ace a wide berth on my way past, holding my breath with each step I take.
But when I reach for the handle, I’m tugged away from the door, and I’m slammed against a hard body. Ace’s hard body.
His breath whispers across my neck as his arms band around my middle, holding me in place. “Where do you think you’re going, sugar?” His voice is deep, and if I didn’t know who was holding me, I’d likely find his tone terrifying.
But instead, need washes over me like a bucket of ice-cold water, followed closely by disappointment. Because it can’t lead anywhere. Not without frustration at least.
“I need to shower,” I whisper, not trusting my voice not to show how fucking badly I want him. How badly I wish I could be normal. Even just for one day.
Ace holds me against him with one arm while the other trails up my front, parting the blanket until all that separates me from the cool air is the thin silk nightgown I’m wearing.
My nipples pebble and press against the soft fabric, sending shockwaves straight to my core. He moves back just enough to allow the blanket to drop to the ground, pooling around our bare feet.
“Ace?” I murmur.
He hushes me, slowly stepping us forward until my front is pressed against the glass barrier and I’m staring down at the street below. The high-rise apartment is so high I can barely see the people on the sidewalk, hurrying to their days, and my breath catches in my throat. I’m afraid of a lot of things, but heights always seemed kind of insignificant compared to everything else.
Right now, though? Right now, the wind blowing around us, the moving city below, and the way Ace seems to press me harder and harder into the glass have my heart rate picking up almost to the point of pain.
“Ace, what are you doing?”
His hand trails up my bare thigh, his touch gentle despite how hard he’s holding me. He’s never been like this with me before, and I can’t reconcile the man who has always taken care of me with the one holding me at the edge of a building, with nothing but a pane of glass stopping me from falling.
He doesn’t answer me with words. Instead, his foot kicks mine apart, and I follow his silent order without argument.
I suck in a breath when his fingers brush gently along the edge of my nightgown, toying with the sensitive skin there.
I let out a muted moan, my need overpowering my fear. I always knew I was fucked up, but this might be on a whole other level.
Ace presses his lips to my neck in gentle kisses that match his soft touches, and I allow my eyes to drift closed, to be surrounded by nothing but him and the crisp morning air, and everything else melts away.
His fingers creep higher and brush across my panties, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. “So wet for me, sugar.”
I nod, chancing a look over the edge of the balcony, and my stomach bottoms out. Jesus is this high up.
As if sensing my renewed fear, Ace pushes me farther forward until my head and shoulders are hanging over the edge, my long hair whipping around my face in the brisk wind.
He moves my panties to the side and slides his fingers through my wetness, dragging a moan from my throat. He draws gentle circles over my clit, driving me crazy with the need for more. But he doesn’t make me wait long.
He presses two fingers into my tight channel, driving them in and out a few times before focusing on the place inside me that will set me off like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
I press back against him, silently begging for more as I stare down at the street below. The rush of adrenaline pounding down on my body makes it hard to breathe through his ministrations, and yet I grind my hips back on his hand, silently begging for more.
“You’re needy this morning, sugar,” Ace rumbles against my ear, his front pressed to my back as we both hang over the edge.
If I fell to my death right now, it would be worth it to have this moment with him.
Ace’s free hand moves from around my waist and wraps around the front of my throat. A moment of panic takes my breath away, but then the fingers moving inside me pull me back to the present.
