Page 8 of Love’s Ace

Chapter 8

Theo

I didn’t think about it when I first went into the bathroom. I just knew that my body was tense, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Usually, when I felt like this, I’d go out on the streets and pick a fight. It was a good way to alleviate the stress—the only way I let myself be touched was when it was controlled pain. It was better that way, and it reminded me why contact wasn’t something I could ever want.

And if that didn’t work…

Well, at the end of the day, the only person I truly trusted to touch me was myself.

I just hadn’t realized that pain wasn’t the only thing that would transfer along the little red line connected between us until I’d already started.

Maybe some part of me had realized. Or maybe the swirl of desire ripping through me was coming from him . I was angry; I wasn’t turned on. But as soon as I stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the shower, my entire body nearly went limp as the mixture of fear and fury and adrenaline began to fade away. The hot water sluicing along my back and shoulders tried to soothe away the phantom sting of the wound I’d left on Wren’s leg, and my fingers trailed along the skin experimentally. There was no mark, but I could still feel where I’d hurt him.

I wondered… Could he feel me touching it, running my fingers across it in an attempt to alleviate the pain in some silent apology for something I wasn’t even sorry about?

Could he feel everything I did?

When my shoulders hit the tiled wall of the shower, cold in contrast to the hot water, a small sound tore from my throat.

There was something about the thought that he could… It sent a line of heat through my body that had nothing to do with the shower temperature. I wasn’t sure if it was knowing he couldn’t stop me, or some strange need I had to show him I was completely capable of causing things that weren’t pain. I wasn’t a monster. I was just… I wasn’t sure what I was.

Or maybe, somewhere beneath it all, it really was the need burning through him that drove me forward. Whatever it was, my hand wrapped around my cock, and I nearly choked on the groan that punched from my chest when I gave my shaft a slow, teasing squeeze.

In the other room, even over the sound of the water, I heard a small grunt. It gave me pause—made me hesitate—but he didn’t tell me to stop. Wren didn’t come barging in to chain my hands behind my back. I hadn’t even locked the bathroom door.

And I hadn’t realized how much I needed this until just now. I couldn’t stop the low sound that tore from my chest any more than I could still my fingers when they started to move. I stroked myself in quick, nearly desperate jerks of my wrist that were just this side of painful—desperate, needy. It wasn’t good , but I could feel myself already flying toward the edge of orgasm. I’d never had time for good . I’d never felt safe enough for good . I’d just—

The sound of something heavy banging against the bathroom door made me startle so much that I ripped the shower curtain open with my hand still on my dick.

It took me a second to realize what had happened. Wren hadn’t tried to come in, but I could see his shadow just beneath the frame.

He was there. Pressed against it. He didn’t say anything, but he was there… and when a small burst of pleasure licked up the length of my spine, I realized something else.

He was touching himself too. He did it without saying a word, and he was doing it slowly.

It made me pause, my body shivering. It had been a long, long time since I’d allowed anyone near me while I was vulnerable like this—longer still since it had been my choice.

Wren wasn’t in the room with me, but it almost felt like he was. The phantom ghost of his fingertips stroking his own cock drew my hand to move in time with his, and the moan that I managed to bite back spilled from beneath the doorframe like it had traveled from my lungs and spilled out of his lips, confirming my earlier suspicion that he was leaning against it.

His pace demanded I match him. The strength of his presence pinned me to the wall of the shower as though he was in the room with me, as though it was his lean, muscular body pressing me there… his strong fingers wrapping around me and slowly stroking my cock until I felt like I couldn’t breathe around it.

I didn’t do this. I’d never felt like this. Every time I’d had sex before had been painful, and any time I’d masturbated it had been almost perfunctory, a need I handled as fast as I could.

I wanted to tell him to hurry it the fuck up, to demand he stop playing around… but that would give away whatever this dangerous game we were playing with one another was. Neither of us said anything—he hadn’t come into the bathroom. For all I knew, I was still going half mad, and the surety I felt that Wren was just outside the door fucking himself to the feel of me fucking myself was all in my head.

Only a few days ago, I hadn’t known shit like cupids existed at all. And now…

“Fuck,” I whispered beneath my breath when my body started to tremble.

Now my world was narrowed down to the way his phantom touch made me feel—more alive than I had in my entire life.

It was dangerous, and terrifying, and I couldn’t breathe around how much I wanted more.

It took all my strength to raise my hand up and grab the mini bottle of conditioner on the edge of the shower stall. Wren let out another groan that I could hear when I emptied it into my palm and took my cock again, thrusting up in time with his movements.

I thought I heard him whisper something over the sound of my heartbeat racing staccato at the back of my throat, the punch of my breath leaving my lungs.

I thought I heard him whisper my name.

And I bit my tongue hard enough that I heard him cry out, to stop myself from answering the sound.

Instead, I focused on the feel of my hand and the phantom sensation of his fingers working in tandem with my desire. It was so good— too good—and some part of me was almost afraid I’d get lost, and he’d barge in and kill me while I was rolling on the pleasure of it.

That fear didn’t stop me.

I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, then felt another low sound catch and threaten to tear from my chest when another sensation rippled through me—a tight pinch at my nipple, wet heat as Wren took his fingers into his mouth and sucked…

And the ghost of that heat trailing between his ass and pressing to his hole as he played with himself.

I’d never felt anything like it. I’d been fucked, and I hated every second of it . I’d fucked, and it had felt like I was nothing more than a toy.

But Wren touched himself, and the shadow of that pressure—the sweetness of the heat—pushed me over the edge.

My fingers on my cock spasmed, pumped harder, and I spilled over my fist before he’d even had the chance to work his digits inside himself. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or broken at the lack of feeling it.

And even though I bit back the cry of my orgasm, Wren’s fist slammed against the door again, and I heard it when he gasped, when he moaned… the flutter of wings and the soft sigh of his breath as he rode the pleasure we’d both driven each other to.

It was impossible—that word again. That word that didn’t have meaning anymore, because just an hour ago, I’d tried to kill him… and now.

Now, I could almost taste his heartbeat on the back of my tongue, and my muscles were loose and relaxed for the first time in…

For the first time in so long.

Whatever the fuck had just happened felt better than anything I’d experienced in my entire life, and I hated him for it even more.

Tears stung my eyes, and I turned my face up to the hot water, hoping the burn would drown out the sensation so he couldn’t feel it.

It wasn’t fair for him to make me feel this.

Not when he wanted me dead.

Not when I knew I couldn’t keep him.

Wren wasn’t mine—I wasn’t his.

None of this was actually real.