“Not quite.”
“What, then?”
Her hand comes to my stomach, tracing the lines of muscle there. They quiver at her touch. “I’ve read that sex is a great way to help you get back to sleep.”
My dick jumps eagerly, clearly unaffected by my nightmare and subsequent confession. “Is it, then?” I ask.
“I’ve heard it is.”
The weight on my chest releases. “Well.” I climb over her, pressing her gently down. Then I kiss the little spot right above her collarbone; the one that makes her shiver with pleasure every time I touch it. “Since I woke you up, it’s only right that I help you get back to sleep.”
Yara smiles up at me. Her hand slides underneath my waistband. “You’re right,” she replies. “Youdefinitelyshould.”
CHAPTER 17
YARA
“Fuck,Yara, do you know how incredible you look?”
Ace’s gaze moves from my breasts, to my stomach, and then down to the place where we’re joined. It’s a perfect contradiction—my trimmed curls a dark contrast to his light ones, and his body thick with muscle while mine is toned and lean. His hand splays across my lower belly, spanning it, and as he looks at the picture it makes, his lips curve into an appreciative smile.
I wiggle my hips a little, and he jerks inside me. His abs tighten, and the tendons of his neck stand out. His hand moves to my breast, plumping it. His fingers pluck at my nipple, teasing it into a hard peak before giving it a gentle pinch.
The slight flare of pain is the perfect counterbalance to the pleasure storming through me. My inner walls clutch at him, desperate to keep him inside me. Desperate to hang onto this incredible sensation of fullness, of a completion only Ace can bring.
“You look pretty incredible, too,” I reply. Leaning forward, I place my hand on his chest, feeling his heart thudding fastbeneath it. The new angle makes him hit a sensitive spot deep inside me, and a rush of arousal slicks us.
My core squeezes.
My lungs forget to work.
Ace palms my ass, pulling me flush against him. Somehow, though I wouldn’t have thought it possible, he grows even thicker inside me.
As he meets my gaze, a corner of his mouth curves up. “I don’t know about how I look. But seeing you on top of me—” He leans me back, then drags his hand down to my center. Finding my exposed bud, he rubs it. Strokes it. Gives it a gentle pinch.
My thighs quiver.
My heart races.
Pressure builds inside me; a star burning hot, on the cusp of exploding.
“I love seeing you stretched around me like this,” he continues. His voice is rough. Hungry. The timbre resonates inside me, setting off a flutter of excitement in my belly. “You fit me so perfectly.”
Ace thrusts up, filling me until it feels like I can’t tell where he ends and I begin. I gasp, and my head falls back. My eyes flutter shut as the star burning inside me threatens to supernova.
“Ace,” I moan. “Oh?—”
He lifts me off him, until he’s barely inside me, then pulls me back down.
His fingers rub harder. Faster.
Through half-shut eyes, I watch Ace as he takes control. Before, he was satisfied to let me take the lead. But even though I’m on top, he’s more than strong enough to maneuver me where he wants me.
I don’t mind. Though I’ve spent the better part of two decades trying to prove I’m just as strong and capable as the menI served with, I’m finding it’s a welcome change, relinquishing control sometimes.
Or at least, it is when I’m with Ace, because I trust him. Because I don’t feel like I have anything to prove to him. Because he doesn’t expect me to be someone I’m not.
No, Ace likes me just as I am. Robot-obsessed, former Green Beret Yara, who isn’t the most feminine and would rather work on projects than go shopping for clothes, who’s still grappling with things that happened three years ago, and is gradually coming to terms with the new person she’s become.
