Page 184 of The Fire We Make

Chapter Forty-One

Joy slept the entire flight back, and didn’t say a word the entire ride back to the estate.

She stared out the window, watching the city blur past in streaks of light, but she wasn’t seeing any of it.

Ace watched her the whole way, clocking how she’d folded into herself. She couldn’t even meet his eyes, a stark contrast after being so beautifully free just an hour before.

He knew something was wrong but he didn’t push.

He waited until the door to his bedroom shut behind them.

Until she kicked her boots off and moved like she was trying to outrun him.

“Look at me, Rose,” he said.

Her body stilled.

For a second, she considered not turning around but slowly, she faced him.

She braced herself for what she’d find when she finally looked at him but where she expected to see fear or judgement, she found concern.

“What’s the matter? Did you not want to do that?” he asked, concerned that he’d pushed her too far, too fast.

Joy shook her head. “No. No, I wanted to,” she assured him quickly.

“Then what’s wrong?” he asked, stepping closer.

She diverted her eyes again. “I just…” her throat tightened. “You don't think I did too much? The.. the torch and–”

Ace didn’t let her finish.

He closed the distance between them and kissed her hard, immediately silencing the thought before it could take root.

Joy melted into him on instinct, her hands finding his shirt, gripping like she needed something solid to hold onto.

“You didn’t do too much,” he murmured against her mouth.

Another kiss.

“You were amazing.”

Joy exhaled a bit. “I don’t want you to look at me differently…” she admitted, barely above a whisper.

Ace paused and pulled back to look at her, genuine bewilderment in his eyes.

“You have no idea how you looked to me, do you?”

His voice dropped, rougher and darker now.

“How hard I was watching you work like that.”

He released a slow exhale, a nearly blissful expression crossing his face like he was reliving the memory.

“Baby, I was in awe of you.”

His hand came up, caressing along her cheek, smearing blood that wasn’t hers.

And still, his touch was gentle and his gaze was tender.