Saving Sami

Chapter 9 Just A Moment Of Peace

The door clicked behind them, muffling the chaos of the clubhouse — laughter, clinking glass, the low thump of music. In here, it was just them. The hum of his space. His scent. His silence.
Sami stood frozen just inside the threshold. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. Her heart was still racing from everything — her mother’s venom, the ride here, the fear that had settled in her chest and refused to move.
Ace turned the lock, his back still to her, his shoulders tense beneath the fabric of his tee. When he finally turned, his eyes met hers, and it was like the world exhaled.
“I hate what she said to you,” he murmured.
Her jaw tightened. “She’s always known how to cut deep. And I always let her.”
He stepped forward. “You didn’t let her. You survived her. That’s different.”
Sami blinked. Her lip trembled. “Why do you always say the right thing?”
“I don’t,” he said, brushing a thumb under her eye. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”
Something inside her cracked — not in pain, but in surrender.
She stepped forward and kissed him, hard.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was desperate. Breathless. Like if she didn’t touch him now, she’d drown.
Ace responded like a man starved. His hands tangled in her hair, then slid down her back, anchoring her to him. The kiss deepened, messy and heated, teeth grazing lips, tongues chasing truth. She gasped as he lifted her off the ground without breaking the kiss, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.
“You sure?” he asked, his voice ragged against her mouth.
“Don’t ask me that,” she whispered. “Just—please.”
He laid her down gently, reverently, like she was something breakable. His body hovered over hers, eyes drinking her in. Then his mouth followed — tracing a path down her neck, over her collarbone, across every inch of skin he’d dreamed about touching.


Clothes disappeared in a slow-burning blur. Her shirt pulled over her head, his hands replacing the fabric with heat. He undressed her like a man unwrapping a secret — savoring every sound she made, every shiver he caused.
When his mouth found the soft swell of her breast, she arched into him, a breathless moan slipping free. He growled low in his throat, like the sound of her unraveled him.
Her hands slid under his shirt, pushing it up, nails grazing scars he never talked about. He let her look. Let her see all of him. Vulnerability and strength. Pain and power.
“God,” she whispered, eyes shining. “You’re beautiful.”
That did something to him. He kissed her again, slower now, deeper. Like he needed her to feel it — what she was doing to him. Who she was becoming to him.
When he finally pushed inside her, it wasn’t rushed. It was everything. Her gasp, his groan, the way they clung to each other like lifelines. His forehead rested against hers, both of them trembling from the gravity of it.
“You feel like home,” she breathed, eyes wet.
He kissed her hard, like that truth scared the hell out of him.
Their rhythm built — slow, reverent, then desperate again. Hands everywhere. Breath against skin. Fingers gripping, anchoring. Every thrust deeper, every movement a confession.
When they finally unraveled, it wasn’t quiet. It was raw. Honest. Perfectly broken.


They lay tangled in silence, the room filled with the sound of their breathing. Ace pulled her close, his thumb brushing lazy circles on her hip.
“I’m not good at this,” he said softly. “Letting someone in. I’ve always been the one left behind.”
“You’re not alone anymore,” she whispered. “And I’m not leaving.”
He kissed the top of her head. “You say that now.”
“I mean it.”
A long pause.
“I’ve never had this,” she admitted. “Not like this. It feels like something I’m not supposed to touch.”
Ace turned her face to his. “You are something I’m not supposed to touch. But I’d burn for it anyway.”
She smiled, eyes wet again. “We’re so messed up.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “But we’re in it together now.”


Knock. Knock. Knock.
A sharp rap at the door shattered the stillness.
Sami flinched. Ace’s jaw locked. He was out of bed in a flash, grabbing his jeans and sliding his arms through the sleeves of his cut.
“Who is it?” Sami whispered.
“Stay here. Don’t open that door for anyone but me.”
He cracked it open.
Grimm stood there, his eyes serious.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said, voice low and grim.
Ace gave a single nod, glancing back once at sami tangled in his sheets.
Then he stepped into the hallway, and the door clicked shut behind him.