Kace and I watch him leave and when the door shuts, Kace turns to me. “You know I wasn’t hiding the song from you, right?”
“Kace, you told me the minute you saw the text. I’ve only known you know who I am for two days. You didn’t have the chance. And you didn’t have to tell me at all.” I wrap my arms around him. “I know you would have told me.”
He folds me close. “I would have. Aria, I promise you. I knew it would be emotional for you. I was waiting for the right moment.”
“It’s special, Kace. It’s like having a piece of my father through you.”
His expression darkens, his change of mood palpable. “What is it, Kace?”
He cups my face, studying me with such intensity it’s as if he means to memorize every arch and plane. “I don’t know how we came together, Aria,” he says, a stark quality to his voice, “or why, but right or wrong, we’re here now.”
My hand goes to his hand. “What is this Kace? What are you saying?”
“Facts. I’m just speaking the truth.”
Tensions curls inside me. “I don’t understand.”
“I know. Aria, there are parts of me you aren’t going to like, parts that I don’t want you to even know about.”
“Why are you saying this now?” “
“Because I need you to know, that none of them have to do with your family or that formula.”
“I believe you.”
Tension ripples down his jawline. “You won’t like those parts of me.”
“Are you telling me or inviting me to find out for myself and make that decision?”
“Against my better judgment and because I can’t walk away from you, I’m asking you to stay.”
“Gio is not going to come back and convince me to leave, if that’s what you think.”
“I’m not worried about Gio, Aria. I’m just telling you that sooner or later you will have to decide to stay or go. I’m asking you to stay.”
I study him and I can see the torment splintering in the haze of his blue eyes. Something about that song, about his past with my father, has triggered him and I’m reminded of the cage he lives inside. Alone. He lives there alone. And even with me here, he’s still alone, until I find a key.
And so I press my hand to his face and say what I feel, and what I hope he wants to hear. “I don’t have to be told twice.”
His mouth crashes down on mine and there is fire and torment in his kiss. There is hunger. There is so much hunger. Hunger that stirs hunger. I reach for his T-shirt, finding hot, taut skin over rippling muscle. He tugs it over his head and reaches for my blouse and soon his mouth and hands are all over my naked breasts and nipples. It’s a frenzy of touching, kissing. Needing. One minute we’re dressed. The next we’re both naked, no taking turns this time.
In a blur of passion, we are on the couch. He is sitting against the cushion and I am on top of him, straddling him, sliding down the hard length of him, the Hudson River at my back, the man I know I’m falling in love with in front of me. I roll forward, resting my good hand on his shoulder, while his hand is on my head, dragging my mouth to his, dragging me into the heady rush of his kiss.
He caresses a path up my spine, fingers splaying between my shoulders, molding me close, the sway of our hips soft and sultry, sensations rocking my body. This is not just sex. This is everything. This is about this bond I share with this man that changes the way two people feel when they are naked. I know this now. I didn’t know before I met Kace.
Somewhere amid the passion, the hunger shifts and becomes more demanding. I lean back, I ride him, and he watches me, his hot stare all over my body, my breasts. The taut, intense, aroused look on his face empowers me, but while I would rock and ride, he folds me into him, against him, and rolls us to our sides, molding my hips to his hips, and we end in pants and shivers. For long moments, we lay there until I feel the sticky dampness between my legs.
My lashes pop open. “Kace, I’ve only been on the pill a few days. We didn’t use a condom.”
He grabs a tissue from the table behind me and slides it between my legs, replacing himself with it, but he stays right here with me. He settles me on my back and him half on top of me. “It’s been days.”
“One day, Kace.”
“You’re not pregnant, baby.” He strokes the hair from my eyes. “Do you want kids?”
“I cannot, I will not bring a child into this world only to tell him or her to hide and look over their shoulder. I can’t do that. I saw how it tormented my mother.”