Beyond Jealousy (4 page)

He plucked the cigarette back out of her hand and crushed it against the wall. "Here's a freebie, no tears required. Loving the hell out of sex doesn't mean you're always in the mood. Even when you have a cock."

A little sliver of the real Ace, and Rachel hated herself for clinging to it so fiercely. "Then why do you spend so damn much time trying to convince everyone it's all you give a shit about?"

"Maybe that's just all you want to see." The cigarette butt went out the window, which squeaked loudly as he dragged it shut. "I care about art. I care about keeping the whores safe and their pimps honest. I care about the gang and everyone in it. I care about how much I make you cry."

"But you don't know how to stop." Second verse, same as the first.

He sighed and closed his eyes. "We spark, angel. We spark so bright, and I always thought I'd woo you nice and slow and you'd adore me. But you only ever see the worst in me, and there's so much worst to see."

She'd wanted the truth, but there was too much of it now. It stripped her bare, left her shaking, and she couldn't stop the flood of words. "I loved you, Ace, from the very beginning. But you kept pushing me away. Nothing I did seemed to matter, and now I don't know if anything ever can, because it's all too fucked up."

His lips twitched. "Yeah. It's easy to love me in the very beginning. Prolonged exposure usually fixes that."

"That's not what I
said
." She turned away from his sad, self-mocking smile. "God, you're such an asshole."

"I never meant to push you away." He caught her arm, his fingers loose, as if he was afraid of hurting her. "But maybe I let you go too easy."

If she let him, he'd pull her in, whether out of desire or comfort, or even something he couldn't begin to express. And they'd be right back where they started, unable to have the simplest conversations without misunderstandings and hurt feelings.

Rachel looked down at his fingers, then met his gaze. "If you can let someone go at all, you probably should, right?"

"Is that why you went after Cruz?"

Maybe she was finally starting to get Ace's morbid sense of humor, because she had to laugh. "
Went after
him? Fuck you, okay? Cruz showed up, and I wasn't expecting him, but you know what? I care about him, and I don't regret that for a goddamn second."

He flinched. Just that, a tiny reaction, but it was as real as the pain in his eyes. "Because it was easy to let me go."

"No." If she'd been able to let go of Ace, things with Cruz could have turned out differently. "Because I never had you in the first place. Whatever you were looking for, it wasn't me."

Ace's gaze roamed her face, as if he was trying to unlock a puzzle. "If I had fucked you that night, would things be different?"

She stiffened. They didn't talk about that night. It seemed like years ago--Noelle had been new, Lex had still been avoiding taking those last few steps with Dallas.

Everything had been so fucking simple.

She'd danced with Ace, a dance that had turned into more--his hands on her body, then on her bare skin beneath her clothes. She shuddered just thinking about it, the slow build of lust that had rumbled between them like a thunderstorm, implacable and unstoppable--

Except he'd done exactly that. Gotten her off and
stopped
, left her standing alone in the middle of the room, flushed and dizzy and confused.

He was still staring at her, so she licked her numb lips and shrugged. "I doubt it. I'm not big on pity fucks."

"Pity?" Ace took a step forward. So precise again, close enough that she could feel the heat of him, but not quite trapping her, even though his voice had dropped to something low and dangerous. "You inspire a lot of things in me, angel, but pity? Not in a thousand damn years."

"Whatever." She turned and tried to edge past him.

He pressed a hand against the wall, barring her path with one tattooed arm. "Damn it, Rachel, don't run away."

A hysterical laugh fought its way free of her aching throat. "This is perfect. Fucking priceless."

His other hand slapped against the wall, and now she was trapped. Penned in on all sides, and he lowered his face until it was inches from hers. "You can knee me in the balls and spend the rest of your life hating me if you want, but not until you hear this. I didn't walk away from you. I ran, because sometimes you scare the hell out of me. And then I turned around, and you'd gone and found yourself a fucking hero."

It was the last thing she expected to hear, and she blinked up at him stupidly. "What the hell are you talking about? What did I ask you for that was so terrifying?"

"Not what I had to give," he whispered, holding her gaze. "What I had to be. Worthy. Of you and everything you offer. You're fucking fearless."

"Fearless?" she echoed. "Then why do I feel like such a fucking coward all the time? Why can't I stand in front of you and stop letting you run?"

He shifted one hand to smooth over her hair, tracing the lock down to where it curled against her bare shoulder. "Watching someone run doesn't make you a coward. Letting them come back makes you too brave for your own damn good."

"Brave or crazy." The ache spread to her chest, and she tried--and failed--to look away from those dark, dark eyes. "But I'm done, Ace."

His fingers followed her shoulder to the curve of her neck, fingertips ghosting over her skin like a whisper. "Maybe you're not seeing the worst in me. Maybe I fucked up so bad I made you see shadows in yourself that weren't there."

"What does that even mean?" She pressed her palms against his chest, but instead of pushing him away, her fingers clenched in his shirt. "That you made me feel like shit? I could have told you that a long time ago."

His thumb came to rest over her pulse, stroking back and forth. "I made you feel unwanted."

The way he said it, like it was some kind of guilty revelation, made her face burn. "No. You broke my fucking heart."

His thumb froze. Pain twisted his features until he bit off a curse and closed his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Rachel. I'm not worth that."

"Shut up," she whispered thickly. Her head throbbed already, the only part of her that hurt worse than her heart. "Don't you dare say that. Don't run yourself down, and don't call me stupid on top of everything else."

Groaning, he pressed his forehead to the wall next to her head. "No wonder we're tied in so many knots. You think I know what to do with a woman's heart? That's not the part they want my hands on, angel."

She couldn't stand there and justify her ill-advised feelings, especially with him looming over her, so warm and so close. "Let me go, Ace."

His breath shivered over her ear as he turned his head. Not far, just enough for his groan to fall against her cheek. "I can't."

"You have to."

"I tried." His fingers slid into her hair, tangling in the strands. "The only thing I haven't tried is taking you."

In that moment, she felt so, so weak, because she wanted him to, even if it left her shattered beyond repair this time. "I'm tired of fighting. I'm just
tired
."

He lifted his head, tilting hers back until she was staring up at him. A stolen moment, wrapped together in shadows, and he whispered as if he didn't want his words to carry to the world beyond. "I know, Rae. I know."

The nickname shivered through her, a reminder of a time when she'd harbored hope along with her need for him, and she relaxed her hands, let go of his shirt--and slid her arms around his neck. The inches separating their lips became one inch, then a fraction of that.

So close to touching. So close to
more
. "Tell me to stop," he said, "and I will."

The breath she was holding tore free on a whimper. "Don't."

His hand drifted up, settled around her neck with his thumb pressed against her skittering pulse. A menacing touch, just like the fingers still twisted in her hair, but his tongue flicked lightly across her lower lip, a playful prelude that turned taunting when he didn't close the final distance between them.

"Ace." The word shook because Rachel did. She tried to close the gap herself, to taste him, but he held her tight for what seemed like forever.

Then he kissed her.

She only had a heartbeat to process the softness of the caress, the gentle pressure of his lips on hers, the slow exploration, because the sparks were there. They jolted through her, bringing every sense to life, and Ace groaned and pushed her against the wall, his mouth slanting over hers, his tongue venturing into her mouth.

Yes.

Too much buildup, too much expectation and yearning that reality couldn't possibly survive--except that it did. Kissing Ace was every bit as good as her feverish fantasies. Better, because she'd never imagined that he'd tremble under her hands, or that he'd kiss her like her breath was life and he'd never survive without it.

She clung to him, her heart pounding, her senses alive. He tasted like cigarettes and bourbon, and she drank in the heat of him along with the soft noise he made when she slicked her tongue over his.

He tilted his head, luring her deeper into his mouth only to toy with her, closing his teeth lightly on the tip her tongue. His own made lewdly suggestive circles, slow and lazy and so hungry she could feel the need along every inch of their bodies even though his hands stayed carefully above her shoulders.

What the hell was she doing?

Lightheaded, she broke the kiss and dragged in a rough breath. "Stop."

Ace lifted his head, breathing every bit as heavily. "Christ, you taste sweet."

She swallowed a moan. Only a crazy woman would do this, open herself
again
right after his blatant warning.
You think I know what to do with a woman's heart?
"We have to stop."

"Stop." He shuddered, his eyes dark. "I can still feel you on my tongue. It's taking everything in me not to slide to my knees and see where else I can lick you. Damn near everywhere, in this dress. It's nothing but leather straps and sass."

"Why do you think I wore it to Dallas's party?" She'd been planning on forgetting everything else, if only for a little while. "Turns out, I'm not as fearless as you think."

The hand at her throat drifted lower, tracing the edge of one strap where it circled her waist. "Bullshit. Everything about this is brave. You're halfway to tied up and so damn strong."

She didn't feel strong, not even when she braced her hands on his chest again and pushed this time. "I didn't wear it for you," she lied.

Ace let his hand fall away. "If you wore it for Cruz, you should try ribbons and silk next time. Leather and chains are my thing."

Oh God. Cruz, who'd stumbled into the middle of this whole mess, who'd never been anything but careful, gentle. It wasn't fair, that she was so reckless, clueless, standing in the dark hall in Ace's arms. But she'd lost track of who they were hurting, because pain was all she knew anymore.

Pain and anger. Ace had to bring him up, had to remind her that none of his pretty words mattered, because any way she turned, someone's heart would break. Rachel gritted her teeth against a wave of guilt and anguish, but it only built higher with every passing heartbeat.

So she squeezed her hands into fists and met his brittle tone with one of her own. "You both know way more about what the other likes than I would. I'm just a spectator."

"And I'm invisible. Cruz could fuck his way through all eight sectors, and you'd still be the only person he really sees."

Jealousy. It wreathed every word, hung in the air between them like a low fog, and Rachel swallowed as she tried to process his words. It was hard enough, being the woman caught between two friends, but life wasn't that simple.

And neither was Ace. He was circling them
both
, like a wolf drawn to a fire but afraid of getting close enough to burn. He'd been telling the truth--they fucked women together because it was what Cruz wanted, and Ace went along with it, because why not?

He could have what he wanted, after a fashion.

She shuddered and choked out a laugh. "It's a fucked-up little triangle, isn't it?"

"No, it's an
actual
triangle." He traced the shape on her arm, his finger burning into her skin. "Three lines. No one in the middle."

The heat from his touch skated up her arm--and down her spine. Rachel shuddered again and ducked past him. "I'm sorry, I gotta get out of here."

"Rachel."

She skidded to a halt and turned to find him watching her, carefully intent. "I'm not running," she whispered. "I--I need some time."

For a second she thought he'd reach for her, but he hooked his thumbs in his belt instead. "I won't push. But I'm not walking away this time."

For the first time in months, the possibility that he was hiding his feelings--or, worse,
lying
--hadn't even occurred to her. It was a sobering thought, one that chased her down the hallway and the stairs and finally left her alone, with only one conclusion.

He meant every word.

Cruz had lost track of how many times Jeni had come.

When he'd fallen into her bed, he'd been set on fucking away his frustrated confusion before letting the liquor knock him out. He got her off twice before he realized no amount of gratified moaning would distract him from thoughts of Ace and Rachel, so he made her come again out of guilt.

Not that Jeni cared why he was fucking her. She cared about having a good time and giving him one in return, and that was what kept him going. It was what the O'Kanes were supposed to be about, after all--shameless pleasure with an edge of fondness, all of the fucking and none of the feelings.

No one seemed to believe he could get it done. Maybe that's why it had seemed so important to get Jeni beneath him, shaking from the intensity of the final orgasm building inside her. He could render a woman every damn bit as insensible as Ace--

Even when Ace wasn't there to help.

Jeni turned her head, pressing her cheek to the bed, and flexed her hands in his grip. "Harder," she gasped, the word already twisting into a desperate plea. "Fuck--"