Page 52 of Sixty Days Of Summer

His eyes lock onto mine, and for a split second, I catch a glimpse of something—raw and real, like he’s letting me in. But just as quickly, it vanishes, the walls slamming back up. I watch as he shuts me out again, retreating behind the defenses he’s built to protect himself.

He just stands there, staring at me like he’s lost, like he doesn’t know what the hell to do next. The tension between us is so thick it’s hard to breathe, but I refuse to back down. Ace might want to shove everyone away, but I’m not going to let him self-destruct like this. Not if I can help it.

“I’m serious, Scar,” he says, his voice rough and low, carrying a warning that makes my heart ache. There’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that he’s trying to bury, but it’s there, just beneath the surface. “You should go,” he growls again, but he still doesn’t move.

Instead of answering, I take a step closer, closing the distance between us. I can see the battle raging inside him—the push and pull of wanting to let me in and wanting to shove me away. His hands clench at his sides like he’s trying to hold himself back, but the desperation in his eyes is impossible to ignore.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper, but I know he hears me.

I reach out, pressing my palm flat against his chest. His skin is hot under my touch, his heart thudding beneath my fingers.

He grabs my wrist, his grip firm but not painful, and for a moment, I brace myself, thinking he’s going to shove me away.But then his eyes soften, just for a heartbeat, and before I can even process it, he pulls me in closer, his lips crashing against mine.

It’s desperate, almost frantic, like he’s trying to drown out the chaos in his head with the feel of me. His hand moves to the back of my neck, holding me to him as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away. I can taste the anger, the frustration, the hurt—all of it pouring into this kiss, and I kiss him back with everything I’ve got, hoping he can feel it, hoping it’s enough to reach him.

Every rational thought vanishes, overtaken by the heat of his mouth on mine. I know it’s reckless, and that I should pull away, but I can’t. With his firm grip on my waist, he pulls me closer, and I become one with him.

I cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as his tongue explores every inch of my mouth. He’s all I can think about—his taste, his scent, the feel of his body pressed against mine. I need to put an end to this before it escalates. But I can’t. I’m lost in him, caught up in a whirlwind of emotions I can’t control.

His hands grip my hips, fingers digging in as he lifts me off the ground, pressing me against the wall with a force that knocks the breath out of me. I gasp, but he doesn’t give me a chance to catch it, his mouth crashing back onto mine with a hunger that makes my head spin.

My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer, like I need him to keep me grounded. Everything is a blur—his body pressing into mine, the heat between us scorching, the way his lips move against mine like he’s starving for something only I can give him.

I’m drowning in him, in the intensity of this moment, and I know I should be scared, should be telling him to stop, but I don’t. Because, for the first time, I’m seeing the real Ace—raw, unguarded, and stripped of all the bullshit. And even though it’schaos, even though it’s fucking insane, I don’t want it to end. I want to be the one to pull him back from the edge, to hold him together when he feels like he’s falling apart.

His lips scorch a path down my collarbone, every kiss igniting a fire that spreads through my veins like wildfire. I can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding back, as if he’s afraid of losing control but can’t stop himself. It’s like he’s teetering on the edge, torn between restraint and the undeniable pull that’s drawing us together.

“Ace,” I whisper. My fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer, wanting more of the heat that radiates from him.

He pauses, lifting his head to look at me, his eyes dark with need, a storm brewing behind them. “Scar, I—”

“Just kiss me,” I breathe, cutting off his words. There’s no more time for hesitation, no more room for doubt. I need him to drown out the chaos, to let us both forget everything but this moment.

Ace carries me to the bed, laying me down on the crumpled sheets. He grinds his arousal against me as his lips skim down my neck, hot and insistent.

“Ace,” I gasp, my hands gripping his shoulders, urging him to look at me.

“Let me just fuck you, Scarlet, please,” he pleads, his voice raw with desperation.

I nod, lost in a haze of desire that has taken over my senses. Because that’s what I want—I want to feel him in the most primal way, to lose myself in the heat and passion between us.

His hands move with an insistent urgency, fingers slipping beneath my towel, teasing my skin and igniting a fire with every touch. I arch into him, my body craving more, desperate for every tantalizing caress. His kiss deepens, fierce and possessive, his tongue exploring with a hunger that leaves me breathless.

His fingers trail slowly up my thigh. When they finally find that sweet spot I’ve been yearning for, my breath hitches, and a soft gasp escapes my lips. As his tongue claims my mouth, driving deeper and more possessively, he pulls my bikini bottoms aside, his fingers slipping through my folds.

The moment his fingers make contact, I can’t help but moan into his mouth. He explores me with a confident rhythm, teasing and tantalizing, and I’m completely lost in the heat of the moment, my body arching instinctively against his touch. Every touch has me begging for more, my need for him intensifying beyond control.

And the second he kisses down my neck, I close my eyes, surrendering to the sensation. Each tender kiss ignites a desperate longing that demands release. The way his fingers tease my clit, circling and pressing just right, sends waves of pleasure crashing through me, making my breath come in short gasps.

His lips trail lower, exploring the soft curves of my body, and I can feel the heat pooling in my core. When he reaches the towel still wrapped around me, he pauses, his gaze locking onto mine with a smoldering intensity. With a slow, deliberate motion, he grips the edge of the fabric and pulls it away.

“Take that off,” he commands, nodding toward my bikini top. “I want to see your tits.”

I lift slightly, pressing my breasts into his face as I reach behind to undo the strings. The moment I do, a moan escapes my lips when he hungrily sucks on my nipple through the fabric. This man drives me wild every time we’re lost in each other, consumed by desire.

When I finally untie the string around my neck and toss my bikini top aside, I can’t help but notice the way his eyes darken, filled with lust as they roam over my chest. I’m captivated by hisgaze, the way it devours me, while his fingers continue to tease my clit.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, the raw need in his voice making my heart race. It’s an intoxicating sense of power, witnessing his reaction to me.

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