Page 115 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

The footsteps move closer.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t move.

I’m shaking so much, my blanket is vibrating.

And then my bedroom door swings in.

I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. Only air.

I can’t look.

But I have to.

Only two streetlights work on my block, and one of them sits outside my window. Its light illuminates the man standing in my doorway.

And I’m stunned.

It’s Ace. Dressed in all black.

My stomach twists. A tidal wave of emotions surges over me—relief, confusion, anger, and want, all tangled into knots so tight, I can’t separate them.

“What are you doing here?” I manage, my voice barely cracking a whisper.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him.

“Ace—“

“Shut up.”

Something inside me shifts.

The command ripples through my body and lands between my legs, sharp and pulsing.

He’s in shadow now, outside of the ray of light, and it feels fitting for him to be shrouded in darkness. This, what he’s doing, is not like him. This is someone else.

I swallow hard, sitting up slowly. “Baby—“

“I said shut the fuck up.”

The roughness in his voice makes my breath hitch. He stalks toward me, and I shrink backwards, flinching when my back hits the headboard, irritating the Ace on my skin.

He yanks the covers off me. “Take that off.”

I don’t understand what’s happening, so I hesitate, waiting for him to say something that makes sense.

But all he says is, “Now.”

A shiver rolls through me.

I stand, moving slowly. Deliberately. My fingers trail over the hem of my tank top before lifting it over my head. The cool central air hits my skin, tightening my nipples.

His gaze drops, tracking my every movement. His breathing gets heavier.

This feels wrong, but also very right.

I slide my pajama shorts down next, letting them pool at my feet before stepping out of them. I stand there in my panties, watching him, waiting.

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