Wicked White
Page 18
I hiccup again and then close my eyes before Ace scoops me into his arms like I weigh nothing at all. I smile happily as I lay my head on his shoulder, feeling safe.
“Will you get the door for us?” Ace asks Birdie.
The sound of my keys jingling as she unlocks the door to my trailer catches my attention and I spot Birdie’s concerned face. She doesn’t trust Ace. I know she’s thinking this is a mistake letting him take care of me like this, but she doesn’t know how I feel about him. How much I crave this closeness.
“Which one is her room?”
“Down the hall—first door on the right,” Birdie replies.
Light streams into my tiny room from the living area. The full-size bed in my room takes up 80 percent of the space, making it unbelievably tight, but it’s what I’ve always known. That made living in my shoe box apartment in New York so easy. It was way more personal space for my things than I ever grew up with.
Ace lays me down on the bed, and the room spins. I throw my leg off the side of the bed, hoping it will ground me and give me enough balance to keep me from throwing up from motion sickness.
“Thank you,” I whisper, grateful that he’s been there so much for me today.
He smiles down at me and then stretches a tentative hand toward me, where he smooths back a few loose strands of hair from my face. “You’re welcome.”
When he turns to leave, the very thought of losing this magical connection scares me. I don’t know if I’ll ever get another moment with him like this.
Without thinking about the consequences of my action, I reach out and snag his wrist. “Stay.”
“Iris . . .” The way he whispers my name makes my toes curl.
There’s an edge to his voice that almost sounds painful, like for some reason he’s torn whether to allow himself to give in to what I know that we are both feeling and stay here with me.
I don’t want to push him away and ruin the progress we’ve made by being too forward, so I add, “Just until I fall asleep.”
He scrubs his hand down his face and then sighs before his russet eyes meet mine. “Okay.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, allowing me to study the contours of his handsome face. The definition in his cheekbones is enough to make any girl jealous while his nose brings balance, making his face masculine and rugged.
I reach up and trace the contours of his face with my fingertips. “You’re beautiful.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’ve had a lot to drink.”
I smile as I lick my bottom lip. “Yeah—but I still mean it.”
I push myself up onto my elbows to closer inspect his face.
The stubble from a day-old beard covers his chin and scrapes against my fingers. “The perfect chin . . .” The tip of my finger runs down the center of his nose, feeling the slight bump in the middle—even that adds to his appeal. “Perfect nose . . .” I move on to his eyes and he closes the lids over them. “The most beautiful color . . .” Finally, I rub my thumb over his plump lips, fighting the temptation in my drunken state to find out what they taste like. “And the softest lips.”
The lump in his throat bobs as he swallows hard, and his breathing picks up speed.
I lean into him, wanting more than anything to kiss him, only he holds back, pressing his forehead to mine. The man has unbelievable self-control.
“Iris . . .” It’s a strained whisper.
He bites his lip, and just when I think his resolve is gone, Birdie’s voice cuts in between us.
“Is she all right?”
Ace pulls away and turns toward the door. “Yeah. I think she’ll be—”
Out of nowhere the amount of alcohol I ingested tonight decides to make a reappearance. The bile rises in my throat and I have no choice but to lean over the side of my bed and release the contents into the small trash can beside my bed.
“Oh, shit!” Birdie shouts and then gags. “I can’t handle barf.”
“Go ahead and go. I’ve got her,” Ace orders.
“We don’t know you. I’m not going to leave you alone with my friend,” she yells in from the hallway.
“I’m not going to hurt her, I swear it.” He turns back to me. “I’m going to get you a cold rag for your head and then get this mess cleaned up.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks and I suddenly want to crawl into a hole somewhere with the thought that the man that I’m totally crushing on is going to clean up my puke.
I want to die.
When Ace leaves me, Birdie’s voice carries into the room. “Swear to me that you’re not some ax-murderer rapist, because if you so much as twist one hair on her head the wrong way, I will hunt you down and chop off your balls.”
“Birdie!” I groan as I flop back onto my pillow. “Leave him alone. If he were going to kill me, he wouldn’t be so hell-bent on taking care of me.”
“He still needs to promise me,” she shouts from the other side of the wall. “We don’t know him.”
“Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none,” Ace tells her.
“Say what?” Birdie asks, confusion ringing through her voice.
Even I’m a bit confused by what he just said, but I let it go and chalk it up to just being really drunk.
“Never mind.” He shakes his head as he reappears in the doorway holding a wet wash cloth. “No. I’m not an ax murderer. I’ll take care of her. You don’t have to worry.”
“Will you get the door for us?” Ace asks Birdie.
The sound of my keys jingling as she unlocks the door to my trailer catches my attention and I spot Birdie’s concerned face. She doesn’t trust Ace. I know she’s thinking this is a mistake letting him take care of me like this, but she doesn’t know how I feel about him. How much I crave this closeness.
“Which one is her room?”
“Down the hall—first door on the right,” Birdie replies.
Light streams into my tiny room from the living area. The full-size bed in my room takes up 80 percent of the space, making it unbelievably tight, but it’s what I’ve always known. That made living in my shoe box apartment in New York so easy. It was way more personal space for my things than I ever grew up with.
Ace lays me down on the bed, and the room spins. I throw my leg off the side of the bed, hoping it will ground me and give me enough balance to keep me from throwing up from motion sickness.
“Thank you,” I whisper, grateful that he’s been there so much for me today.
He smiles down at me and then stretches a tentative hand toward me, where he smooths back a few loose strands of hair from my face. “You’re welcome.”
When he turns to leave, the very thought of losing this magical connection scares me. I don’t know if I’ll ever get another moment with him like this.
Without thinking about the consequences of my action, I reach out and snag his wrist. “Stay.”
“Iris . . .” The way he whispers my name makes my toes curl.
There’s an edge to his voice that almost sounds painful, like for some reason he’s torn whether to allow himself to give in to what I know that we are both feeling and stay here with me.
I don’t want to push him away and ruin the progress we’ve made by being too forward, so I add, “Just until I fall asleep.”
He scrubs his hand down his face and then sighs before his russet eyes meet mine. “Okay.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, allowing me to study the contours of his handsome face. The definition in his cheekbones is enough to make any girl jealous while his nose brings balance, making his face masculine and rugged.
I reach up and trace the contours of his face with my fingertips. “You’re beautiful.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’ve had a lot to drink.”
I smile as I lick my bottom lip. “Yeah—but I still mean it.”
I push myself up onto my elbows to closer inspect his face.
The stubble from a day-old beard covers his chin and scrapes against my fingers. “The perfect chin . . .” The tip of my finger runs down the center of his nose, feeling the slight bump in the middle—even that adds to his appeal. “Perfect nose . . .” I move on to his eyes and he closes the lids over them. “The most beautiful color . . .” Finally, I rub my thumb over his plump lips, fighting the temptation in my drunken state to find out what they taste like. “And the softest lips.”
The lump in his throat bobs as he swallows hard, and his breathing picks up speed.
I lean into him, wanting more than anything to kiss him, only he holds back, pressing his forehead to mine. The man has unbelievable self-control.
“Iris . . .” It’s a strained whisper.
He bites his lip, and just when I think his resolve is gone, Birdie’s voice cuts in between us.
“Is she all right?”
Ace pulls away and turns toward the door. “Yeah. I think she’ll be—”
Out of nowhere the amount of alcohol I ingested tonight decides to make a reappearance. The bile rises in my throat and I have no choice but to lean over the side of my bed and release the contents into the small trash can beside my bed.
“Oh, shit!” Birdie shouts and then gags. “I can’t handle barf.”
“Go ahead and go. I’ve got her,” Ace orders.
“We don’t know you. I’m not going to leave you alone with my friend,” she yells in from the hallway.
“I’m not going to hurt her, I swear it.” He turns back to me. “I’m going to get you a cold rag for your head and then get this mess cleaned up.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks and I suddenly want to crawl into a hole somewhere with the thought that the man that I’m totally crushing on is going to clean up my puke.
I want to die.
When Ace leaves me, Birdie’s voice carries into the room. “Swear to me that you’re not some ax-murderer rapist, because if you so much as twist one hair on her head the wrong way, I will hunt you down and chop off your balls.”
“Birdie!” I groan as I flop back onto my pillow. “Leave him alone. If he were going to kill me, he wouldn’t be so hell-bent on taking care of me.”
“He still needs to promise me,” she shouts from the other side of the wall. “We don’t know him.”
“Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none,” Ace tells her.
“Say what?” Birdie asks, confusion ringing through her voice.
Even I’m a bit confused by what he just said, but I let it go and chalk it up to just being really drunk.
“Never mind.” He shakes his head as he reappears in the doorway holding a wet wash cloth. “No. I’m not an ax murderer. I’ll take care of her. You don’t have to worry.”
