29. Valerie

Chapter twenty-nine

Valerie

I try to stop walking but all it does is cause Ambrose to spin on his heels and come face to face with me. His closeness, the way heat exudes off of him, his captivating smell, all of it, is the reason I'm now staring at him like a love-drunk idiot completely clueless about what I was going to say.

Just drunk, not drunk in love. I think.

"I can't leave Nat–" I pause to hiccup. "–here."

Fuck not hiccups, too .

He tilts his head to the side slightly as if he's staring at me with pity, I hate the look. I've seen it too many times, too many people feeling sorry for me but never actually doing anything to help.

"I'll get Adriano to drop her off at home," he says and with that ends the discussion because in an instant, he's guiding me towards the exit again and straight to his Audi that the valet brings around. Like the true gentleman he pretends to be, he opens the door for me.

"I don't wanna go home," I pout, not moving to get into the car.

"What do you mean you don't want to go home? You're drunk, Valerie. Home is where drunk little girls belong."

Of course. Of course, he still thinks of me as some helpless little girl .

"I'm not a fucking little girl, and I sure as fuck don't wanna get into a car with you right now either."

He sighs, defeated. "I didn't mean it like that Valerie."

"Well, that's what you said." I cross my arms over my chest and stare back at him.

I know I'm causing a scene. Everyone's eyes are on us, Ambrose is holding an entire street of cars up and all that's missing is a few paparazzi to capture the moment.

"Get in the car Valerie, we can talk about this later," he says. His tone is demanding but has an edge of pleading to it as his eyes scan around to see who is watching this all unfold.

"Fine," I huff and get into the car. "I still don't want to go home," I snap as he starts the engine and the car purrs into action.

"Where do you want to go then?" he asks, voice so low it sends vibrations down my entire body.

"You wanted me out of there so badly, you decide. Besides, I'm just a drunk little girl, what would I know?" I fold my arms and turn my body towards the passenger side door.

He sighs, silence filling the car. He hasn't even bothered to play music in the rush to leave The Vice.

"I'm sorry for calling you a little girl, I have to remind myself that you're all grown up now."

I don't respond and continue my one-woman show of a fake music video scene while gazing out the window. The coast is beautiful at night, the light of the city reflecting off the water. Only a few small boats are still out, their lights shining right back.

It's quiet for a weekend, usually, the coast and promenade are busy right until just before midnight. My eyes gaze over to the screen on the dash and I nearly gasp out loud. It's closer to 2 a.m. than it is to midnight.

Time flew and I barely noticed it. Especially since the only thing I was paying attention to for most of the night was Ambrose's hard dick under my ass while I sat on his lap. He was borderline shameless, not even trying to hide it. Then again a part of me was glad he didn't. For years, I convinced myself he'd never even look at me in that way, but no matter how much he tries to hide it, his body can't.

I also didn't miss the way he watched my every move or the way his grip on my thigh would tighten whenever he'd get annoyed with Diego or Horatio.

I cross one leg over the other to hide the blistering need I'm feeling down to my core, the alcohol isn't helping and neither is the heat radiating off of him.

The car stops and only then do I realise we're outside his house.

"What, what are we doing here?" I stutter.

"You didn't want to go home and I wasn't going to leave you anywhere else, so here we are," he says through clenched teeth staring over at me. His eyes trail over my face, down to my lips and then over my body. The heat in the car feels suffocating as his gaze hangs over me.

I hurriedly open the door and a rush of cool winter air comes rushing in. It provides the necessary relief from the heat that was building up in the car but only worsens how drunk I feel.

I stumble out of the car and up the stairs towards the front door of the villa.

"God Val, at least let me help you up the stairs." Ambrose rushes to my side.

"Fuck, thank you," I say as I place a hand on his shoulder taking off each of my shoes. "So much fucking better," I shove the pair into his chest and continue my walk into the house.

"You've got quite a dirty mouth on you when you're drunk," he chuckles from behind me.

I stop in the foyer briefly deciding where exactly I want to go.

Ambrose stops behind me. Too close behind me. My back is practically flush with his front and if I press my ass ever so gently backwards I'd feel his...

"My room is at the other end of the wing if you're ready to head to bed," he says.

Snapping back to my senses, I physically shake my head. "Bed? The party is just getting started." I skip towards the backyard.

"Val, it's 3 a.m.," he yells after me, clearly not a care in the world for whether his mother is at home, asleep or not.

My body is hot considering the cool temperature, and my mind is running a mile a minute. I need space and that seems to be the last thing Ambrose wants to give me right now.

"Valerie, c'mon it's time for bed."

"No, I don't want to." I shake my head as I back away from him

"See, now you're acting like a drunk little girl," he groans, dropping my shoes next to his feet.

"No one said you have to babysit me." I keep backing up until I can feel I'm at the edge of the pool.

"Val, stop, you're going to fall in."

A smirk is all I offer the gorgeous man with a stick up his ass before I turn and cannonball straight into the water.

Relief washes over me quite literally like a wave. The water is cold but it chills every inch of me that Ambrose keeps setting alight. It provides silence to my roaring thoughts and it's the perfect weight to feel like I'm getting a hug to tell me everything is going to be okay. I could stay here forever without a care in the world.

Two large hands wrap around my waist and pull me up to the surface and then instantly it's all back; the heat, the thoughts, Ambrose. My eyes flash open in annoyance.

"Why are you lifting me up?"

"Why the fuck are you trying to drown yourself, Valerie?" He stares at me wide-eyed and confused.

I roll my eyes. "I wasn't trying to drown myself."

"Then what do you call jumping into a pool when you're drunk as shit and then taking forever to come back up for air. "

Forever? It felt like a few seconds.

"I just wanted everything to be quiet for a while," I shrug.

Again, his face is a glaring obvious look of confusion.

"You wouldn't understand Ambrose, let's go." I try to get out of his grip but instead, he draws me closer and reaches down to wrap my legs around his waist.

"Try me."

I flicker my gaze between his eyes looking for a shred of humour as if he's going to tell me any second that this is all a joke. It never comes. Instead, he stares at me in the most serious way he ever has.

"It's just a lot."

"What?"

"Everything, Ambrose. My father, his surgery. It's a major surgery and I'm so worried he won't be able to walk normally again, not to mention the fact that there were already a few complications with today's surgery–well yesterday I guess. Then I have to worry about payment for his physical therapy, medication and doctor visits. I moved back here, but for some reason, it doesn't feel like home anymore but neither did Paris so I sort of feel like an outcast in my own home. I barely have any friends and the few I do have are always busy. Nat is busy on tour and only comes home every few months. Fuck, I found out Antonio is like in love with me so I don't even know if I can call him a friend anymore and God, then there's you. You, Ambrose, feel like the most consuming problem in my life. You consume my thoughts, my actions, my emotions and I'm so worried it's going to backfire and hurt me. That I'm feeling all these things and you don-

I blink rapidly trying to take in what is going on when I realise Ambrose's lips are on mine and sweet baby Jesus this time they feel like what I can only imagine heaven itself would feel like. I sink into the kiss ignoring the part of me screaming how bad of an idea this is.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I draw him closer; his hands, on the undersides of my thighs do the same. The kiss is innocent yet passionate all in one almost nothing like the first time we kissed. The gentle way his lips move against mine contradicts the way his teeth graze and nip against them begging for entrance.

Once our tongues clash, it's like a match is lit and a fire takes over the both of us. His lips are hungry but it's the way his hands possessively grab onto my thighs and ass trying to bring me as close as possible that truly makes him seem like a man starved of touch. He pins my back against the wall of the pool allowing enough space for him to bring himself even closer.

He breaks the kiss but doesn't leave much room between us. We're gasping for air and right now, I don't know if the air I'm breathing is my own or his, but I don't care.

"Sweetheart, all of those are valid worries to have, but one thing you never have to worry about is if I feel the same way about you." My mouth is agape and I can't process what he just said. He places a quick peck on my lips again. "C'mon let's get you dried off before we freeze or before I stay out here and fuck you." He smirks and carries me up the stairs and places me on my feet.

The loud revving of an engine makes me jump and he stares at me as if contemplating his next move.

"Let's go, I think both of us need some sleep," he takes my hand and we jog through the house, giggling wildly as we both try not to slip.

"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.