Filed To Story: Kidnapped by My Mate Novel (Belle & Grayson)
Sure, I’d been waiting years for Ace to show that sort of interest in me, but I was also incredibly confused. Did this mean he wanted something more between us?
Ace’s cocky grin turned into a scowl. “Foul words like that do not belong in a pretty mouth like yours. I don’t want to hear you say something like that again.”
He paused, his eyes scanning up and down my body, then he licked his lips. “And that was something we’re going to be doing a lot more often.”
I blinked. My head was absolutely throbbing now. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. “W-which part?”
He climbed off the bed and prowled toward me, and again, I had to work not to get distracted by his sculpted body.
He moved with such confidence, not the least bit worried that I could see everything—and I mean everything— through the thin material of his boxers.
Not that it’s difficult to spot. He’s a big man.
Big everywhere.
And, lord help me, he was hard, too, his arousal clearly visible.
It wasn’t the first time I had witnessed him with a morning wood; rather, it’s a common occurrence when you sleep in the same bed as a teenage boy every night.
But this time felt different. It was almost like he was showing off for me, making sure I knew he’d enjoyed what had just happened between us as much as me.
He stopped mere inches away from me. “I think you know which part, little mate.”
My skin prickled with awareness. There was that word again. “Mate?” I whispered.
A growl left his chest as he leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on my forehead. “Soon.”
He stepped back. “I better get going. Don’t want to be late for school. I’ll be back in fifteen to pick you up.”
Without providing any further explanation, he pulled on his pants and shirt from the night before and left through my bedroom window.
Ace drove us to school in silence. Silence wasn’t unusual with Ace. He was a quiet, brooding man, yet he commanded the attention of every room he entered and could quiet anyone with a single look.
Usually, I didn’t mind how quiet he was. I liked doing all the talking. Ace was an incredible listener and, though careful with his words, gave great advice.
Today, however, his silence was unsettling. He was white-knuckling the steering wheel, his arm muscles taut. There was something on his mind.
I wanted to ask him about what we did this morning but I was too nervous to bring it up.
I didn’t regret anything, but I wanted to know what he was thinking.
The way he touched me this morning was new and shocking and…good. It felt right.
But he was my best friend. And although what happened this morning made it seem like there might be something more between us, it could also have just been a fit of his teenage-boy hormones.
He called me his friend this morning, didn’t he? Or…no, he called me his mate, whatever that meant.
But if he really only saw me as his “mate,” why did it seem like he was seconds away from kissing me before my mother walked in?
Ugh, all of this was making my headache a million times worse. It thrummed behind my temples angrily, making my stomach roll. My migraines always developed at the most inconvenient times.
I’d gone to the doctor countless times and tried countless different medications to make them stop, but nothing ever helped. I was forced just to suffer through them until the horrible pain ended.
I gripped the edges of my seat as a wave of nausea hit me. I needed to pull myself together before Ace noticed something was wrong.
Ace hated it when I got headaches. He went into overprotective mode any time I was in pain.
If he knew what I was experiencing now, he would freak out and probably take me back home. That was the last thing I wanted. My thoughts would only spiral more if I was forced to lie in bed all day.
“Doe?” Ace asked. “Are you okay?”
Crap. ?“Yep,” I replied. I kept my gaze through my passenger window, “I’m great.”
I felt his eyes on my face, and I tensed the muscles around my mouth to keep my expression neutral.
“No, you’re not. Something is wrong.” He paused. “Fuck. You’re getting a migraine, aren’t you?”
I slumped in my chair. It was as if he could read my mind. “I’m fine. It’s not that bad.”
“I’m sorry, Doe.” He spoke as if he were to blame for my pain. His eyes volleyed back and forth between me and the windshield. “Should I take you home? Would sleep help?”
I immediately shook my head. “I want to go to school. It’ll be a good distraction.”
Ace took a second to think. “I’ll give you some ibuprofen and water when we get there. That should make you feel better.”
We pulled into the school parking lot a few minutes later. Thankfully, my head was feeling a lot better, and I had Ace to thank for it. He always seemed to know what I needed when I was in pain.
This time, he knew I needed a distraction from my thoughts. He asked me questions for the rest of the ride, keeping my mind on something other than my throbbing skull. Eventually, the pain eased.
Ace parked and grabbed his backpack from the backseat. He took out a bottle of ibuprofen and handed me a few pills along with his water bottle.
“Drink,” he ordered.
Now that I was feeling better, I wasn’t sure I needed pain meds anymore, but I swallowed them down anyway. “Thanks.”
He took the water bottle back and studied me with concern. “How’s your head now?”
“Better. I feel almost normal now. I guess I was just being dramatic before.”
That made him frown. “I doubt that.” He reached forward to tuck a piece of loose hair behind my ear. His touch was gentle, but his face was hard. Upset. “Let me know if it starts hurting again.”
I leaned into his touch. “Okay.”
Ace observed me for a few more seconds, a deep line forming between his dark brows, before moving back and unbuckling his seatbelt.
I undid mine as well and reached for my door handle. I knew Ace didn’t like it when I opened my own door, but I wanted to make things easier on him since he just helped me.
Ace clamped a hand on my thigh to stop me. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. His tone was much less caring than it had been a moment earlier.
I sighed. There was no point in arguing with him. “Nothing. Sorry.”
He narrowed his eyes but eventually released me, then he got out of the car, circled around to my side, and opened the door for me.
When I was standing in front of him, he tugged me toward him so I crashed into his chest.
With his nose pressed to my cheek, he inhaled deeply and groaned into my hair.
“Fuck. You’re smelling better with every passing day.”
“Um, thanks?”
He breathed my scent in once more before grabbing both our backpacks out of the car—he insisted on carrying mine for me—then wrapped his arm around my waist and led us to the school.
He was still frowning. His grip on me was much harder than normal.
“Ace,” I asked him, “are you okay?”
He didn’t respond.