Page 94 of Sixty Days Of Summer

I turn to see him watching me, hardly believing the lengths he’s gone to for me tonight. The effort he’s put into creating this perfect evening overwhelms me.

“Is it okay?” he asks, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “I wasn’t sure; I thought you’d—”

“Yes,” I say, stepping closer and cutting him off with a kiss. His response is immediate; he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me possessively against him. This man, with his tenderness and intensity, is going to be the end of me. “It’s perfect,” I murmur against his lips. A smile spreads across his face, relief and joy shining in his eyes, as if he’s been waiting for confirmation that he got it right.

A middle-aged lady approaches us with a warm, welcoming smile. “Welcome to Rooftop Revel! It’s a pleasure to have you dining with us tonight. Would you like to start with a drink by the fire or begin with your meal?”

I glance at Ace, who meets my gaze, waiting for my decision. “How about we have our meal first and then sit by the fire afterward,” I suggest.

He nods, and the lady leads us to our table.

We are soon seated, choose our meals from the menu, and have our drinks placed on the table. I take in the surroundings, noticing tiny details I hadn’t before. When I glance back at Ace, I catch him watching me, a soft, almost tender look on his face.

As I lock eyes with him, my mind races toward the future. The tour ends in a week, and I’m staring into the unknown—no idea what comes next. What jobs will be out there for me? I don’t know where I’ll end up or what will be waiting for me when I get there. And as much as I want to know what the future holds for Ace and me, I don’t have the answers. I need to talk to him about it—about what’s next for us.

He loves me. He’s told me every day, and tonight, with everything he’s done for me, it’s clear he means it. But thethought of pushing him too hard, of talking about something too serious and scaring him off, keeps me quiet. Ace has never been in a serious relationship before, and I don’t want to be the one to complicate things for him, especially when everything between us feels so right.

He lifts his beer, taking a slow sip, his gaze steady on mine. When he sets it down, I can tell he wants to say something, but instead, he looks at the glass, his fingers tracing the condensation.

“Does this feel weird for you?” I ask. “Planning a date like this? Do the guys know what you had in mind?”

“Yeah, it’s weird. I had no clue what the hell I was doing—didn’t know if it’d be too cheesy or if you’d hate it. But Xander said Poppy loves it when he does stuff like this. And judging by your face when we walked in, I’d say I got it right. No way in hell am I telling that asshole he was right, though.”

I smile, seeing that softness breaking through his usual tough exterior, like a flower pushing through concrete. That tenderness he shows is only when it's just us, while the hardness stays firmly intact around the guys.

He grins. "I didn’t tell Theo. That dickhead never keeps his big mouth shut and would’ve ruined the surprise.” He takes another long sip, then hesitates, glancing down at his beer. “There’s something I wanted to ask”

“What’s that?” I ask, taking a drink.

He swallows, clearly unsure. “I was just wondering what you’re gonna do after the tour. You said you’d need to find a new band, but... do you think you could do that from L.A.?”

I smile. “Yeah, I was thinking of staying out there anyway.”

“Look, Scar, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just gonna come out with it.” His fingers tap nervously against his glass, the sound a small rhythm of his anxiety. He’s clearly struggling to find the right words, and I can feel the weight of the moment inthe air between us. “I want this… whatever we have between us. I want it to keep going.”

His eyes meet mine, searching, like he’s waiting for me to confirm what he’s feeling, to assure him that this isn’t something he’s imagining. And I can see it in the way he’s holding himself, how vulnerable he looks. For all his strength and confidence, Ace is putting himself out there in a way that feels raw and real.

He wants this.

He wants me

“I want that too,” I smile.

The lady brings over our meals, and we settle into a comfortable rhythm of conversation—talking about Nate’s upcoming visit, joking about how Theo might change once Nate's finally in the same city as us, and discussing how Ace feels now about reconnecting with his sister. It’s the kind of easy conversation that flows without effort, the kind that makes me realize just how much I’ve come to depend on these quiet moments with him.

As he talks, I can see how much Daisy's return has affected him. For the first time, I get a sense of how much healing he has left to do—not just with her, but with himself.

And as I listen, I realize that despite the uncertainty of our future, moments like these are what I want to hold on to. The rest will figure itself out.

Once we finish eating, Ace stands and offers his hand to me. I take my drink and let him lead me to the cozy fire pit. The crackling flames cast a warm glow around us as we curl up on the loveseat, a soft blanket draping over our laps. I lean back, gazing at the serene stars above, feeling perfectly content in this moment with him.

Ace leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Do you think they’d mind if I fucked you right here, right now?” His voice islow and rough, carrying a dark promise. The playful smirk on his face contrasts with the fire in his eyes.

When he kisses me, it's with such intensity that his tongue claims my mouth. For a moment, when we pull apart, I'm breathless. He smirks, clearly satisfied with the effect he has on me.

I feel the heat pooling in my pussy, the desperate need to have this man right here, right now. He looks at me, and as if reading my mind, his fingers trail up the inside of my thigh, heading straight for my throbbing core. I’m not even sure if anyone’s around, but I don’t fucking care. All I care about is feeling him, wanting his touch.

He kisses me again, this time slow and filthy, his tongue teasing as he deepens the kiss. His fingers slide under the edge of my underwear, teasing as he touches my pussy. When he discovers just how wet I am, he groans—a low, primal sound that sends a delicious shiver through me. I arch into his touch, begging for more, but he holds me in place, a wicked grin spreading across his face. His fingers circle my clit, pushing me closer to the edge.

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