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I sniffed, angling away my head a little more so Ansel wouldn’t see the tears that had slipped out and were now running down my face. Though I looked sad on the outside, every molecule inside of me was trembling with quiet rage. “I don’t need to justify my relationship with Carter to you,” I said, unable to hide the slight tremor in my voice. “And I’m not going to listen to relationship advice from a recovering Casanova. Have you even had a girlfriend before?”
There was a long pause between us. My back was turned to him, so I was unable to read his expression. “No, I’ve never had a girlfriend,” he said softly. “I took your advice,” he said after a long beat. “Why not listen to mine?”
I wiped my cheeks again to be sure they were properly dry before I turned to face him. “When did I give you advice?”
He reached over, stroking my arm with his hand. His hands were so big and warm; the callouses on his palms scratched softly, leaving my entire arm tingly. The feather-soft touch felt so good; I wanted to arch my head back and purr for him.
“When you told me I was a bad leader.”
I scoffed. “I didn’t say that—”
He shook his head once. “No, it’s okay. You’re right. I am. I never wanted to be head of this family.” He sighed. “I don’t even know if you can call us a proper mafia family at this point. But it doesn’t matter; I was planning on seeing Robbie alone. Not that I don’t trust the other two, I just . . . would never forgive myself if something happened to them. But I don’t know, I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said about communication and letting others participate.” He shrugged. “So I decided to let Liam join me. At least just to get that nagging voice out of my head.”
I smiled down at him. He kept his eyes focused on my arm, running his hand up and down my skin. I blinked hard, feeling the tears burn in the corner of my eyes again. But not sad or angry tears. Happy tears. Goddess, why was I so emotional tonight? Must be the residual alcohol left in my system. “Glad I could help. Do you think I could put that on my resume?”
His brows knitted together as he glanced up at me. “Put what on your resume?”
“Effectively taught mafia boss leadership and interpersonal skills?”
Ansel squeezed my arm once and rolled his eyes. “You poor corporate drone. What have they done to you?” He grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his steely gaze. The corners of his mouth held for a moment before falling into something more serious. “Skye . . .” he said slowly, his voice as rich as velvet. He rarely called me by my first name, so I knew something was wrong. It felt like the same moment after someone has sat you down on your couch and is about to deliver some earth-shattering news.
He looked up then, his gray eyes locking with mine, holding my gaze. I couldn’t look away, no matter how much I tried. I was a planet stuck in his gravitational pull. “I don’t have any advice right now, but I have a suggestion.” He paused. “No, a plea. I want to help you get over Carter. Please let me help you.”
Chapter seventeen
Yes.The word pushed against the back of my lips. It was a miracle they didn’t accidentally slip out as I stared at Ansel with my mouth hanging open. I continued to stare, feeling as though all the air had been knocked out of my lungs and I couldn’t exactly remember how to inhale it back into my body.
What about Carter?
What about him? You’re broken up. Even if he is calling to get back together, and that’s a very big IF, you deserve to have a little fun, especially after all the shit he’s put you through.
I mean . . . Ansel was just offering what I wanted in the first place. Sex to get over Carter. A little fun to momentarily forget how miserable and lonely I was. But when this was all said and done, who was going to help me get over Ansel? I don’t think anyone could fill that seven-foot, orc-shaped hole that was starting to form in my heart.
Well, at least this strange experience was teaching me something new about myself—I was not a one and done type of gal. I could not separate sex from emotions. I had only been finger-fucked by Ansel, yet I was already falling for him fast and hard. What would happen if I completely opened myself to him?
I cleared my throat; my mouth dry. “You’re drunk,” I said. It was neither a yes or a no. I was just trying to think of reasons why this was a bad idea.
He pushed himself up to his elbows. “So are you.”
I wasn’t drunk. Whatever buzzed through my bloodstream was stronger than any drink I had ingested tonight. Drunk with lust . . . No, shit-faced with it. And Ansel was the source of intoxication because I could barely string two logical thoughts together whenever he was in the room.
“Come here,” he said, dragging my body down to lay next to him.
“Ansel . . .” I said slowly but didn’t push him away.
“Just lay with me for a moment. I won’t do anything if you don’t want me to.” He brushed the hair away from my face. “I’ve noticed whenever you are too in your head, you get this tiny little line between your eyebrows.”
I reflexively lifted my hand to cover my eyebrows.
“No.” He caught my hand. “It’s adorable. I can just tell when you’re worrying too much. You need to learn to relax and not be in your own head all the time.”
I stifled a laugh. I remembered Carter using that as a reason why he could never make me come.“You’re too in your head, babe. I’ll go down on you when you finally learn to relax. I’m not going to spend years pleasuring you and have nothing happen.”
“Funny. That’s what Carter always said. I think that’s why our sex was never that great. I could never relax enough to enjoy it.” After trying so hard to keep my life with Carter a secret from Ansel, here I was sharing the most intimate detail. But at the same time, it felt cathartic. I had been keeping this secret for so long, only barely starting to open up about it to my therapist.
If I wasn’t so broken, so neurotic, maybe Carter wouldn’t have ended things with me. Without consciously acknowledging it, that’s why these last four months have been a time of metamorphosis: work retreats, therapy, boxercise classes. I thought if I fixed myself from the inside out, I could figure out how to fix the one thing holding me back from love.
But the only thing I gained from these last four months was that I was unfixable. I only wished I hadn’t spent thousands of dollars and all those hours crying in my therapist’s leather chair before learning that nugget of truth.
