Page 78 of Frayed Bonds

“You’re about as coordinated as an elephant in roller skates,” I say through my laughter.

“Yeah, I bet an elephant couldn’t do this,” he says and throws me over his shoulder still jogging down the hallway to his room.

I’ve never been inside Ambrose's room–ever. Not once in my entire time of being Antonio’s friend. There was never a need and I suppose tonight there isn’t a need as well since there’s plenty of spare bedrooms but I won’t object in case this is my only opportunity.

He places me down and my feet meet a soft plush rug. “Wait here. I’ll get you a towel and some clothes to change into.”

As he turns, I reach and grab his wrist. My strength does nothing to pull him back but he entertains the grasp and turns back to me.

I want to take control of my life and I sense Ambrose may be the exact person that would let me.

“What if I'm not ready for the night to end just yet?” I ask pushing his now wet suit jacket back and off his shoulders while maintaining eye contact with him.

His usual jade green eyes darken and his lids look heavier as he lets the jacket drop to the floor. His eyes leave my face briefly to look at my body. The dress I chose earlier, already left very little to the imagination but now that it's wet it's practically non-existent.

“What did you have in mind sweetheart?”

My arms wrap around his neck drawing him down until his eye level with me, lips inches from mine. “How about I show you?”

"Sei irresistibile, cazzo." You’re fucking irresistible.

“I know,” I whisper, his eyes widening for a second before a smirk tugs at his lips.

I sink onto my knees and his eyes return to their heavily lidded state. I undo his belt and trousers as fast as my drunk abilities will allow me. His length is practically straining against his suit pants and as the pants fall to the floor, I understand why.

He’s fucking huge.

I run my palm along the length and watch as a shudder runs through him. As I'm about to tug his underwear down, his hand covers mine.

“No,” is all he says and tugs me to my feet.

“What? But you're hard?” I ask confused by the sudden change of pace.

“This isn’t about whether I want you or not. Fuck, I’ve wanted to fuck you since I saw you at the funeral. I don't want to do this when you're drunk.” His voice sounds strangled as if this is taking all of his restraint.

“Why? I want to do this with you. Now.”

“When I fuck you, sweetheart, I want you to be sober enough to remember every second of it.”

I can’t tell if I’m hurt at the rejection, touched by the fact that he cares enough to slow this all down, knowing his history, or horny because Ambrose Vitale just told me has every intention to fuck me.

Chapter thirty

Valerie

“C’mon, the bathroom is through there. Get changed, and then we can get you to bed.”

When I get back, Ambrose is leaning back on his bed in a white short-sleeved t-shirt and shorts, arms resting behind his head. It’s the most of his tattoos I’ve seen at once, it’s the most of his skin I’ve seen at once.

The black ink swirls into beautiful shapes and patterns along his arms. I’m well acquainted with the spider on his right hand and the way it expands based on how Ambrose moves it. It seems small whenever he makes a fist yet, so large whenever he opens his hand–or when it’s wrapped around my throat.

“Take a picture, sweetheart, it’ll last longer.”

“Wow, I’m sure the tabloids would pay me enough to get rid of all my problems if I sold them this picture right here,” I chuckle as I crawl up the bed and sit awkwardly next to him.

He stares ahead blankly. “I know what your answer is going to be, but can I please give you the money to pay for your father's bills?” He turns to me. The mood shifts into a gravely serious one compared to our little swim session a while ago.

“I can’t take your money, Ambrose,” I whisper, rubbing my scar as a tingle sparks through it. It kills me to say it when I know how much easier it’ll make everything but my pride is too strong to let him do something like that for me.

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