Page 38

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Raya

It’s late when Ace comes home—after ten, to be exact. The chicken parmesan is cold. Noodles rubbery. Bread dry and hard. But the table’s still set, and my wine glass is empty.

I’m nervous.

“Hey,” I call to him from the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” He walks in, taking a long look around. “What’s all this?”

“Dinner,” I say, smiling. “It’s been a long day, so I figured…” I trail off, unsettled by the look on his face. “How did it go with your sister? Is everything okay?”

He doesn’t even look at me, he just heads down the hallway toward the bedroom. I follow behind him like a puppy, of course, watching as he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor. His back is rigid, his shoulders tight with whatever’s eating at him.

I sit on the edge of the bed. “Talk to me, Ace.”

He doesn’t answer. Just unlaces his Jordans and kicks them off.

So, he’s messy when he’s upset. Noted.

I try again. “Babe.”

“Not now, Raya.” His voice is low and drained.

I don’t like this one bit. He’s shutting me out at the absolute worst time. I need to know what was said, and by who. This is serious.

But I know him well enough to know pushing him like this won’t get me what I want. I learned that in Hilton Head—his shady ass thought I didn’t notice he brought up my parents to deflect away from that baby. But, whatever. I can switch gears and gain back the ground I lost.

I soften. Exhale. Drop my gaze. Let my voice go quiet.

“I don’t mean to upset you,” I murmur. “I wanna be close to you, Ace. I know we’re not together anymore, but I feel like I can get there with you. You’re the first man…” I trail off, letting the silence hang in the air.

He brings his eyes to mine. “What?”

“You’re the first man I’ve ever felt…safe with.”

I feel the shift immediately. His shoulders drop. His gaze softens. The tension in his jaw eases.

He doesn’t say a word, but I have his attention.

“If you wanna be alone—“

“Nah.” He breathes deep, exhaling sharply through his nose. “I’m just…processing a lot of shit. My sister’s car got vandalized.”

That’s quite the understatement.

“Then there’s my pops and…you.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m all over the place right now.”

“It’s okay.”

A few silent minutes pass.

“So I make you feel safe?”

I tilt my head. “You really do.”

“Believe it or not, that means a lot to me.”

“I believe it.”

He moves to sit next to me on the bed, filling the space with his presence. It feels good to be near him, especially given where I was just a week ago.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

I nod.

“I’m really the first? You didn’t have any uncles or cousins or friends? Your brother?”

I don’t wanna tell him that my uncles are just as bad as my father, or that my only male cousins are both womanizers who caused the girls around them more harm than good. My brother is dead to me.

And I don’t feel like getting into my philosophy on men, women, and friendship.

Basically, I think it’s impossible.

I’ve never had a male friend who didn’t secretly wanna fuck me. And on the off chance there was one or two who were genuine, I know if the opportunity presented itself, they would fuck me. Even men who aren’t attracted to me specifically would fuck me, because men will fuck a hole in the wall if they have enough lotion to rub around the edges.

All of this is why I have no respect for them. But I can’t say that.

“No,” I say instead. “No other men. Just you.”

He scoots to his left until our shoulders and thighs are touching.

“Your dad…” he begins, and my stomach twists. “How bad was it?”

I know what he’s really asking. He wants to be let in again. He wants to save me, and I think he knows I’m not lying about this, because who the fuck would lie about something so heinous?

I wish I could lie about it. I’ve spent my whole life keeping that part of me locked up tight. I refuse to relive it, no matter who’s asking.

I pull my knees up, wrap my arms around them, and stare at the floor. “It was bad enough to make me feel unsafe,” I say. “And dirty. And ashamed. And that’s all I have to say about it.”

Ace turns his body to face me straight on, resting his elbows on his knees. He’s locked in.

“And your ex…what’s his name?”

“Ferris.” I swallow hard. His name still tastes like acid on my tongue. “He made everything worse,” I say. “He knew what I went through, and he still used it against me.” I hug myself tighter. “You’d think a man would wanna protect the person they claim to love.”

He brings a warm hand to the back of my neck, massaging gently. “Raya,” he says softly. “It wasn’t your fault. I feel like…on the list of people who should feel ashamed, you gotta be at the bottom, baby.”

I’m oddly calmed by his words, but I shake my head. “I don’t—“ I stop before I can say I don’t know if that’s true .

“Raya.” His voice is low and steady. “You know that, right?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I try to nod. I can’t. My head won’t move.

Instead, I break.

I squeeze my arms around myself as my shoulders shake, misguided in my attempt to contain the emotion pouring out of me. I never let myself cry in front of people unless I need to perform. No cracks in my foundation. But Ace…he pulled this out of me, and it feels real .

His arms encircle me, warm and solid, pulling me against his chest. His hand moves up and down my back, slowly soothing me. “It wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs into my hair. “Don’t hold onto that shit, Ray. It ain’t yours to carry.”

I wanna believe that.

Sobbing into his chest feels…cathartic. I don’t know that I’ve ever really cried about this. I think I convinced myself I didn’t care, that I wouldn’t let what men do break me down. Ever. But I’m broken right now.

Maybe that’s what I needed.

My fingers grip his skin, my body melting into his like he’s the only thing holding me together.

"I wish I could take your pain away." He presses a kiss to my temple. “Have you thought about talking to somebody?”

I stiffen.

He feels it. “Raya.”

“No.” My voice is sharp again. “I don’t want to.”

He doesn’t push, just holds me tighter.

My tears stop, but my nose runs on. I sniffle, wipe with my sleeve, and stay right where I am. Where I feel safe.

The realization washes over me, warm and comforting.

Finally, I pull back to look up at him.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “For being such a good man.”

Something soft flickers in his eyes.

I reach up, brushing my fingers along his jaw, tracing the sharp line of it. “And I’m sorry. For the way I’ve been with you.” I exhale a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle. “I don’t know any other way to be. Nobody ever gives me what I want. Like, I wanted to be safe, and nobody gave me that. I wanted to be loved, and nobody gave me that. Nobody gives anybody anything, so…” I trail off, wiping my nose again. “I find ways to get what I need from people.”

Ace cradles my face in his hands. “You don’t have to do that with me, Raya.” His thumbs stroke my wet cheeks. “I see the real you. I love so much about you. Your confidence. Your attitude. Your determination.” His eyes search mine. “You just need to use that shit for good instead of evil.”

A slow smile spreads across my lips. “But that sounds so boring.”

He huffs out a laugh, then leans in and kisses me. It’s deep. Devouring. He definitely means it.

I let him pull me under. The heat builds between us as my body melts into his. I need to feel him. I need him to ground me in reality before I float away, buoyed by my own unburdening.

He fucks me slowly and tenderly. It’s not my favorite style, but it shows me how he feels. I feel closer to him than I’ve ever been, even without the title. Even without the ring. And I ask myself if I really need those things, because maybe Ace is enough. Maybe I don’t have to control this outcome. Maybe it’s okay, maybe it’s safe to lay back and let it happen like I’m doing right now.

I lock my ankles at the small of his back, pulling him deeper, my body desperate to swallow every last inch of him. My fingers tease their way up his arms, over the flex of his biceps, until I find his hand.

I bring it to my neck.

Ace freezes, just for a second, his eyes full of lust and hesitation. His thumb brushes my throat, and I know he feels how fast my heart is racing.

“Safe word?”

I shake my head.

He frowns, slowing his strokes, keeping his fingers resting lightly against my neck like I’m fragile. But that’s not what I want. I’m done with gentle. I wanna feel it. Everything.

“I trust you,” I whisper.

That’s mostly true. I don’t trust anybody 100%, especially men, but Ace is as close as I've ever been.

He holds my gaze, searching for something. I stare back, unblinking, waiting for him to give me what I want.

Finally, he does.

He squeezes. The pressure builds. The air grows thin, each breath a struggle that turns the erotic ache between my legs into throbbing pleasure. I swear I see stars.

I love this.

Not just the feeling. The surrender. The knowing that Ace could end me right now and I wouldn’t even fight it. I’d go limp beneath him, forever young. Forever his.

My thighs tremble as he thrusts harder, enjoying it as much as I am. I’m floating, somewhere between pain and pleasure, and I never want to come back down.

Because honestly, right now, I don’t care if I live or die.

If Ace’s face is the last thing I ever see, that’s good enough for me. And I wouldn’t want him to stop on my account. I’d want him to finish inside me so I could take his legacy to my grave.

Now that’s love.

My chest aches, but I don’t think it’s from Ace’s hand. I think it’s deeper than that. It’s the ache that’s been dormant all my life, the one I hide behind makeup and fake self-confidence. Ace awakened it like a virus, and now it’s spreading.

It’s ironic that the first man to truly love me is the one to make me see how unloved I’ve actually been.

A tear rolls down the side of my face.

I’m so close. My nails drag down his back. My eyes roll. It’s not until his grip tightens a tiny bit more that I come apart, my whole body spasming, stars and supernovas bursting behind my eyelids.

Ace is saying something, but the fuzz in my ears drowns him out. He’s still fucking me, not stopping on my account, and I love it. I love when he feels good.

The pressure eases completely when he cums. I gasp for air, only realizing now that I was on a different plane, maybe a different dimension. Or maybe I was losing consciousness, I don’t know. Whatever it was, I liked it.

We lie tangled in the sheets, my head on his chest, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on my back. He keeps glancing at me, checking me, I guess, making sure I’m okay.

Then he says it.

“I got invited to the White House.”

My head lifts. “Are you serious?”

He tries his best to minimize his smile. “Some sustainability event. We’re not meeting old boy. Just some officials. I’m taking my mom.”

I go still.

His mother. The wine-guzzling cunt.

He’s taking her . Not me.

Heat creeps up my spine as a new heaviness settles over me. But I don’t react. I just rest my cheek against his chest again, smiling against his skin.

I’m fine.

Everything is fine.

But that bitch is not going to the White House.