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I’m drowning in the taste of him when he stands up and takes me with him. A moment later, he’s sitting on the couch, pulling me onto his hips, me straddling him, his thick erection pressed to my backside, his hand on my face. “Escape, baby,” he says. “I’m going to give it to you.” Before I know his intent, he shifts me, lifts me, and I help him guide his cock inside me. He’s hard, thick, and I moan as I slide down the length of him, hardly able to catch my breath. When finally, I have all of him, our eyes lock, a punch of something between us I cannot name.
“What happened to the spanking?” I surprise myself and dare.
“It’s coming, baby,” he promises. “It’s coming.” He cups my backside and leans me into him, forcing me to catch myself on his powerful shoulders. His fingers twine in my hair and he drags my lips to his, shocking me as he gives my backside a squeeze and then a smack.
I gasp and he thrusts into me, dragging my mouth back to his. “Again,” he says, and his hand comes down on my backside, but this time he’s kissing me on the contact. He pumps into me again and this time when he makes contact, his fingers are in my hair, giving an erotic tug, drawing my gaze to his. “Do you know how fucking much I want you?” he demands, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. His lips brush mine before he asks, “Do you know how fucking much I love you?”
“I love you, too,” I whisper, and then we’re staring at each other, lost in each other, and the air thickens, the mood shifts. I’m not sure who moves first, but we are kissing again and this kiss is different. Deeper, darker, and somehow more addictive, almost desperate in our need for one another. And then we are swaying, fucking, making love. A sultry dance that is wild, and then sultry again. We are in this wicked wonderful tunnel of passion where no one and nothing else exists. I want it to last. I want it to go on forever, but our bodies are all demand and burn. We are wild and his tongue, his touch, his cock, is just too good to fight. He thrusts hard and pulls me down against him, and I’m spent. My sex clenches and my body trembles.
He folds me into him, and a low groan escapes his lips before he’s shuddering against me. A rush of bliss and oblivion follows until we collapse into each other. Kace rolls us, and we end up side by side, limbs tangled, and I don’t even care that my legs are sticky. I just want to stay in the moment. Eventually, though, Kace is the one who breaks the silence. “That was just a touch.”
My fingers curl on his jaw and I search his face. “A touch?”
“There are times when things fuck with my head, Aria. When my dead parents, and dead ex-girlfriend and sister who I didn’t save, get to me. I won’t be that gentle.”
“Promise?”
“Aria—”
I press my lips to his, linger there before I whisper, “I’m not going anywhere.”
He cups my head and says, “I’m too selfish to let you go.” He kisses me and almost as if he doesn’t want me to push for more, he adds, “Let’s order food.” He sits up and hands me the tissue from the table, as well as his T-shirt. He gives me a wink. “How about pancakes?”
It’s hard to think of pancakes when he’s standing in front of me naked, but somehow I manage. “With strawberries and whipped cream and an extra-long workout in the morning.”
“I know just the place.” He smiles one of his sexy, rock-my-world smiles and then grabs his pants. “I think I have a menu in the kitchen,” he adds, pulling his jeans on. “I’ll be right back.” He starts to turn and hesitates. “I really need you. I hope you know that.”
My heart swells and I whisper, “I need you, too.”
His gaze lingers on my face a moment and I swear I tremble with the connection, and what I find in his eyes. Love. Desire. Pain. Pleasure. It’s all there. I am affected by him and him by me, and this is a bond that only strengthens and that I do not want to lose. The air thickens around us, and words are not needed. I know him now, all his flaws, and he knows me, and all my flaws. The secrets are gone. The people we are remain. And those two people are stronger, wiser, and unbroken together. I know he feels it, too. I see it in his eyes. He breaks the connection and then he’s on his way to the stairs leading to the kitchen. I’m left reeling for his touch, for his return. I tug his shirt over my head and let it fall over my naked body, inhaling his scent, my gaze landing on my phone. I stand up and reluctantly reach for it. There are several text messages from Gio. I sit down on a chair and read: I’ve been researching the whole daisy thing. There are random symbolic meanings and important facts to consider. Dad didn’t use that analogy for no reason. He did nothing without purpose. You say he called Kace the one true daisy in the wind. The daisy is not one flower, but two flowers. He includes a link that reads: Daisies are not made of just one flower. A daisy is made up of two types of flowers—disk florets and petal-like white ray florets. He goes on to add: Maybe this was Dad’s way of telling us that Kace is two different people, two different faces. The one you know and the one you don’t know. Daisies also represent new beginnings. Our new beginning. This to me drives home what I already believed: Kace is the path to our victory, to reclaiming our birthright. You need to meet me. We need to talk about how to use him the way he’s using you. And to make sure you don’t end up dead like everyone else in his life.
I want to throw my phone.
My anger at my brother is fast and furious. He won’t even consider my judgment of Kace as right. And now, it’s as if I’m plotting with him against Kace. That’s what he’s set up. I type a reply: You’re wrong about, Kace. I invited you here to talk to him. Be man enough to say what you have to say to his face. Be man enough to see beyond the bitterness Sofia has created in you, and see Kace as his own person. I love you, but if you lash out at him, if you hurt him, we will never be okay again.
His reply is instant: Don’t be a fool, Aria. This is not a game.
My reply is just as quick: And yet you were playing one with my life and my future for months and I had no idea. Good night, Gio. I need some rest. You do, too.
I blink and Kace is sitting next to me. “You okay, baby?”
Considering I didn’t even know when he returned, I’d say that’s questionable. “I’m fighting with my brother. Surprise.” I eye the menu in his hand. “This is the place?”
His brow is furrowed but he hands it to me. “This is it.”
I glance at the scrumptious pancake offerings and after some debate, decide on the hazelnut maple praline variety, with brown butter. Kace approves and dials in our order. Once he hangs up, I’ve found a spot on the coffee table that’s incredibly interesting.
“Aria?” Kace prods. “What’s up, baby?”
My gaze lifts to his. “We just spent the past hour driving home how important trust is.”
His expression doesn’t change, but there’s a shift in the air. “And something about your fight with Gio, brings us here again why?”
I hesitate, thinking of Gio’s reference to everyone in Kace’s life dying, certain this will hurt him. But I also know I cannot have this conversation with Gio come back on me and us.
“Aria?” Kace presses, and while his voice is low, soft even, there is an impatience beneath the surface.
“Because I feel the need to show you the exchange, but there’s something in it that I know will upset you.” I offer him my phone. “Read it. Pancakes and more sex will soften the blow.”
He arches a brow and then accepts my phone, glancing at the messages before he offers me my phone back. “I’m going to play while we wait for the food.” He starts to get up.
I catch his arm. “Kace—”
“He’s right, Aria. Everyone around me dies. The difference this time is that you’re close to me. They weren’t, not physically, not emotionally. And I just told you not ten minutes ago, naked and on this very couch, that I’m not letting you go. I’m not losing you. I’m damn sure not going to allow you to get hurt. And on that note, I need my violin in my hands right now.”
The raw intensity
of him right now is just shy of where he was right after Alexander confronted us at the California event, and he had to go on to perform. But we are not in the same place we were before that event when he said the same thing to me. He is not pushing me away. He’s pushing his personal demons back into the box where they belong. He stands and I allow my hand to fall away from him.
By the time he picks up his Stradivarius, I’m sitting on the piano bench, offering him space, but silently letting him know that I’m still here. And when he begins to play, he surprises me. He plays the song he and my father wrote together. It’s beautiful, stunningly extraordinary. The song is called “The Daisy in the Wind.” Kace is, per my father, the one true daisy in the wind.
If my father did nothing without purpose, then this is no accident. It’s a connection that means something. The question is what? When Kace dramatically ends the song, I step in front of him. “Could the formula be in the song?”
“I was thinking the same thing. That’s why I played the song.”
