Ride Rough

by Tessa Layne

  "Holy crap, Trace, you didn't have to do that, we could have figured something out. And what do you mean you have a place in Colorado? Are you for real? I mean, yes. I know the answer to that, but seriously, Colorado? Also - I meant every word I said earlier about you and me and home, and by the way, the girls are spending the night over here. I'm not leaving my house, and I am leaving the door unlocked. Spank me later if you like." She paused to catch her breath.

  "Look, I don't know what you're planning, but I don't care. I love you, and whatever we figure out, as long as we're together, I'm good. And wait, was that the first time I said I love you? Shit, it probably is, and I didn't mean for that to be how you heard it, but now you know, and now you can play this over and over and hear me say I love you. I. Love. You. Trace. I love you," she said, suddenly choked up. "Please be safe tomorrow. Please come home safe."

  As soon as she spoke the words, she knew what she had to do. She disconnected and walked into the house. "Gals, I'm sorry. I have to go."

  Izzie met her eyes, instantly understanding. "We're coming with you."

  "If we hurry, we can be there before ten," Jeanine said, rising from the couch.

  "I'll clean up and see myself out," Emma said hurrying them with her hands. "Don't break any speed limits."

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Trace shook his head as he listened to Cecilia's crazy message with a lopsided grin. That woman... his grin widened. Loved him. His Cecilia, tough as nails on the outside sweet as marshmallow fluff on the inside, loved him. He pushed play again just to hear her voice. He'd ride safe, and come home safe, and see her tomorrow. And they could take all the time they needed sorting out what needed to be sorted. Which for starters, was building a place in Prairie. Settling down with Cecilia was at the very top of his to-do list.

  A quiet knock sounded on the hotel room door. "Just a second." He opened the door to Jax bracing himself against the doorjamb. "'Sup?"

  "You coming out with us?"

  Trace shook his head. "Nah. I'm tired. And I don't want to give the reporters any more fodder than necessary. I'm gonna have to lay low for a while."

  "Shouldn't be too hard after your press call this afternoon." Jax raised an eyebrow. "Pretty unusual."

  "Paparazzi are like bottom feeders. They do what they do to make money. If you let them know they won't be able to make money off you anymore, they'll go elsewhere. Letting them pick the bones today is the best way to achieve that."

  "Better you than me, man." Jax looked down. "So about your offer."

  "Still stands."

  Jax brightened. "I've got big plans. I'd like to sit down with you and Colton and Cody next week and flesh things out."

  "Can't wait." Trace extended his hand. "I'm looking forward to being your partner."

  "You sure you won't come out tonight?"

  Trace nodded. "Yeah. I need to decompress a little and get my head ready for tomorrow."

  "You'll be great. Just remember what I said. Don't worry about falling off. Worry about hanging on."

  Trace shut the door, grabbed his phone, then stretched out on the bed. Time to make the call he'd been looking forward to all day. As he pulled up Cecilia's name, a knock sounded again. Trace swallowed a groan of frustration, not wanting to wait a few more minutes. He pushed off the bed and walked to the door. "Forget something?" he asked as the door swung open.

  A tiny dark-haired mass launched herself into his arms. "I couldn't wait," she murmured into his neck.

  Trace's arms wrapped around Cecilia like a vice as he kicked the door shut, then turned the deadbolt. He carried her to the bed and sat down, not wanting to let her go for fear she was a dream. He had no words, only an overflowing heart. So he did what any right-thinking man would do when the love of his life was in his arms. He kissed her. He kissed her like she was his last breath, his whole world.

  She softened with a quiet moan, opening for him, giving as much as he gave. "I love you, Trace. I couldn't wait another day to tell you in person," she uttered between kisses, hands pulling at the buttons on his shirt.

  Her words sailed home, settling deep in his chest, filling a hole he hadn't realized until just now, that had been empty and aching. "I've waited my whole life to hear that," he responded, taking her face in his hands and placing a reverent kiss on each eyelid, each cheek, and finally, home to her mouth to seal her declaration with a kiss.

  A button popped, then another. Fabric rustled, skin laid bare. "I'm yours. Always," she murmured tossing his shirt aside and running her hands across his chest. "No matter what happens in the future, we'll face it together." Electricity zinged through his veins, and an urgent need to show her with his body how much he cherished her.

  He nuzzled her neck, nipping and licking the sensitive skin until she cried out. "I want to meet your family."

  "I won't marry you until you do," she said with a sigh on her lips.

  "Are we skipping to that already?" Not that he minded in the least. Marriage and a life with this woman were fait accomplis.

  She drew back, eyes shining. "You're retired now. What else are you going to do?"

  "Spend a lifetime loving you," he said roughly, taken aback at the way his throat tightened. He rolled them onto the bed, then shifted so he was propped above her, staring down into her sparkling brown eyes. He bent, taking her mouth tenderly, slowly winding his tongue with hers, twining their fingers together.

  "A lifetime's not enough," she said, when they parted again, face soft and filled with emotion. Her hand went to the buttons on her shirt, and slowly she opened it, revealing lingerie so pale he could see her nipples through the fabric, tight and dark. "Boots," she said, lifting her chin.

  Pesky footwear. He enjoyed wearing boots, but not the mechanics of removing them when lovemaking was on the horizon. He might have to institute a "no boots" rule in the house he built. Bare feet only. Or flip-flops. He couldn't give up California altogether. Trace pushed off the bed and removed the offending footwear, followed by her leggings. He dropped to his knees, pushing her thighs wide. "Let me see you," he said, taking in the damp spot and the dark shadow of closely trimmed hair. He gazed up at her, memorizing the dusky pink that colored her cheeks, the way her lips were swollen from his kisses, her eyes dark and hazy with desire. He leaned in, placing a kiss on her mound, surrounding himself with the sweet perfume of her arousal. "Perfection," he murmured, gently biting the fabric.

  "Oh, Trace," she said, voice quivering.

  He pulled aside the bottom panel of her panties, sliding a digit across her slick, swollen flesh, wanting to thump his chest at the little sighs and noises she made as her arousal grew. Her hands pushed at the fabric, hips rising like an offering. "Hang on sweetheart. I hope you weren't planning on keeping them."

  "Buy another," she panted, grabbing at the elastic.

  "I'll buy you ten." He fisted the elastic with both hands and pulled. A tear pierced the silence, and then another as he made short work of her lingerie.

  She inhaled sharply. "Oh... that was so... hot."

  A quiet laugh escaped him. "Know what else is hot?" He pressed hot open-mouthed kisses across her mound, at the crease of her thigh, before giving her what she was practically begging for. "Your perfect cunt," he rasped knowing she loved it when he talked like that. He followed his declaration with a long slow lick, coating his tongue with her arousal, slowly lapping at her clit, then tasting her all over again.

  With a groan, her hands came to his hair, clutching and pulling. "Two... seconds," she said between gasps, before shattering with a cry, flooding his mouth with her perfect essence.

  She was fucking incredible, the way she came instantly like that - because of him. He licked and suckled, squeezing her thighs as she rode out her orgasm, only stopping when she sighed deeply. He pressed a kiss to her thigh then lifted his head, wiping the back of his hand across his face.

  Her eyes heated. "Okay, that's hot, too. And while I prefer you with a beard, I don't mind if you shave it
occasionally, because..." she grinned and shook her head. "Holy smokes, Trace."

  He quickly removed his pants, cock springing from his boxer briefs, heavy and thick. She propped herself up on an elbow, reaching for him, encircling his shaft. "I've missed this," she said, smacking her lips while squeezing and stroking, then palming the slick tip, spreading his pre-come.

  He stretched out next to her, but only after teasing her nipples through the thin fabric of her bra. "Lose this," he rasped. A moment later it joined the pile of clothing on the floor. When he'd taken his fill of her nipples, and she demanded more, he paused. "How do you feel about making babies?"

  She lifted her head, eyes wild. "Right now? You want to have this conversation right now?"

  He nodded, waggling his eyebrows.

  "I can't believe you."

  "Answer my question," he said, giving her a little pinch.

  She shook her head. "Not yet, but someday?"

  "How about five?" He nipped her collarbone.

  "Five?" she squawked, socking him in the shoulder, before groaning when he flicked his tongue across a taut peak. "I'm thirty years old, I'm not having five children. Do you know what that would do to our sex life?"

  "Mmm... just think of how much fun we'd have making all those babies," Trace licked a trail between her breasts and across the soft swell of skin.

  Her voice hitched. "Think about how much fun we'd have pretending to make all those babies?" The last word came out strangled. "How about one?"

  "We could adopt." He brushed his fingers over her clit, light as a feather. Her hips rolled into his, pressing for more friction.

  "Ohmygod yes, Trace."

  "Yes we could adopt?" She lifted her head to glare at him and he bit back a laugh. There was nothing so deeply satisfying as playing with her, teasing and taunting until she was ready to crack. Even when it was like this, when he was so hard for her it was a challenge to remain focused.

  "How about one and we see about the rest?"

  "Deal." He lunged forward and captured her mouth as he notched himself at her entrance and drove home. Colors spiraled through his head at the sounds she made, rocking her hips with his, tongue moving in the same rhythm as his cock. As slowly as he could manage, without losing control, he pulled out then pushed all the way in, as far as her body would take him. She groaned as he bottomed out, moving beneath him, moving with him. Her slick heat, the tight clutch of her as she surrounded him, sent him closer and closer to flying into orbit. And still, he managed to hang on, secure in the knowledge that the release was inevitable. How long could he hang on? How long could this exquisite torture last before his brain exploded in fireworks?

  The noises she made intensified, and he swallowed every sound, taking her mouth with the same deliberateness he took her pussy. He was dimly aware of fingernails streaking down his back. And then it came, coiling through them, binding them together, the spasms began with her, then rocketed through him with such force, tears wet his eyes as their cries bounced off the walls and he emptied himself fully into her. Giving her everything he had - his body and his heart.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  April, eight months later

  * * *

  Cecilia's stomach was a zoo for butterflies. "Quick, turn on the T.V."

  Trace pulled her into his side and pressed a kiss to her temple. "We have fifteen minutes. I promise we won't miss it."

  Neither his words nor his affection did anything to reassure her. This was quite possibly the biggest moment in her life. She looked around the group gathered at Mike McAllister's brewery, the only place in town that was big enough, and had a television screen. Mike had tapped another keg of his Celebration Ale, a scotch ale he'd first brewed a year ago for the Mayor's race, and which had become so popular, it was now part of Mike's regular rotation. Cecilia wasn't much of a beer drinker, but everyone loved Big Mike. And she loved this big boisterous group of people, even if she'd need two days of hiding out in the attic of their nearly finished house to recover.

  "Fifteen minutes? Why does that feel like forever?" Cecilia took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm gonna go talk to Mom for a second." She could barely control her nerves. Ever since she'd received word she was a Pulitzer Prize finalist, she'd been strung tighter than bailing wire.

  "I'll come with you," Trace said, catching her hand as she started to walk away. He'd been so attentive the last few days, instinctively knowing she needed distracting. The party had been Izzie and Jeanine's idea. She'd have been much happier finding out after the fact, so that if she lost, she could make a quick escape to wallow in her disappointment in private. The fact that she was a nominee was incredible, beyond anything she could have hoped for. But for her, the satisfaction was in seeing indictments handed down for a number of high profile associates of Bonita Carradine. And for shining a light on the ultra-wealthy men who believed they were entitled to exploit young women.

  When they reached the table, Trace pulled out a chair and sat down, pulling Cecilia into his lap. "I'm not letting you out of reach," he rumbled.

  Seconds later Mariah and Harrison joined them, hands entwined and looking every bit the happily engaged couple. "So Mama, have you already planned Sissy's wedding with Harry's mom?"

  Her mother's eyes crinkled. "Well, we've been working on some of the details, but Mariah and Harrison are holding out on us."

  Mariah made an amused face. "Well, maybe I'm still hoping for a double wedding," she said staring pointedly at Trace.

  Cecilia motioned with her hand. "Oh don't wait for us, sis. We're not in any hurry, and I don't want to keep you waiting."

  "Well what if we didn't keep her waiting?" Trace asked casually, nuzzling her collarbone. "It's not like we're waiting for anything."

  Cecilia shifted in her seat to really look at him. "What are you saying?"

  He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a ring, slipping it onto her left hand before she could react.

  "What is this?" she sputtered, growing hot, tears pricking her eyes.

  "Cecilia Sanchez, will you marry me?" he whispered, eyes soft and hopeful, as if there was any doubt.

  "You really want to marry me?" she teased. "I've been told I'm difficult."

  "I know that to be true."

  "Stubborn."

  "I'd call you bullheaded at times."

  "I'm a strong flavor, Trace. Are you sure you know what you're getting into?"

  His mouth widened into a grin, accentuated by the permanent scruff along his jaw. They'd compromised on something just longer than a five o'clock shadow. Trace wasn't a fan of the full beard, and while she very much enjoyed his smooth face, she'd fallen in love with the man in the beard. "You're my favorite flavor, and the one I can't live without," he said quietly, stopping her teasing with a firm kiss. "Now say yes and put me out of my misery while we have a few minutes left before the announcement."

  She glanced from the ring, to her sweet abuela and mom who sat there beaming - barely able to contain themselves, to Trace, and back to the ring. "Is this?" She looked to her sister. "But I thought Harry-"

  "Yes!" Mariah exclaimed. "I told Harrison I wanted you to have 'Buelita's ring."

  Cecilia blinked hard, refusing to let the tears that threatened to overwhelm her, fall. "Aww, Harry, you're such a squidge."

  "Cecilia," Trace said in the rough, dark way that turned her insides to jello, fingers digging gently into her hip.

  She took his face in her hands and kissed him. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Yes, Trace. I will marry you." She kissed him again, just long enough to let him know there'd be much, much more of that later.

  She turned to the women she loved most in the world, who beamed back at her. Her grandmother pressed her hands together, eyes shimmering. "We are so happy for you, m'ija. Your Papí would be over the moon."

  Cecilia's chest shook as she tried to hold back a sob. "I know, I miss him so much."

  "Guys," Izzie yelled from across the room. "C'mon it's almost time. Two minutes.
"

  Trace stood and cleared his throat. "Iz," he yelled back. "She said yes."

  Izzie's face lit as she held her hand out to Jax, wedding ring flashing. "What'd I tell you? You owe me twenty."

  Jax reached into his wallet, then held the twenty just out of reach. "It'll cost you."

  "Gladly," she murmured, offering her mouth for a kiss.

  Big Mike turned on the television, and after a few seconds the empty podium at Columbia School of Journalism appeared with a big countdown clock. "Five, four, three, two, one," they chanted as a woman stepped to the podium.

  THE BEGINNING OF HAPPILY EVER AFTER

  * * *

  Thank you for reading Trace and Cecilia's story. I had SO much fun writing them! If you enjoyed Trace and Cecilia, I know you'll love Izzie and Jaxon, and reading about 'Operation Win Jaxon Boyd'.

  But when are you going to find out whether Cecilia won a Pulitzer Prize for her exposé, you ask?? In the epilogue of Ride Fast! I promise! xoxo

  * * *

  Pre-Order Ride Fast

  * * *

  The night before fifteen-year-old Jaxon Boyd left for chemo treatment, he made a pact with his best friend and next-door neighbor, Isabella Capizzi. That no matter what happened, through thick and thin, they’d stay best friends forever. And they have – through first loves, breakups, and near-death experiences, their friendship has been the one constant in Jaxon’s life. Until they both cross the line one wild night at a neighbor’s wedding reception. But regardless of the feelings Jaxon harbors for Izzie, he’s determined to stay away – because promises are promises, right? And as much as he could see himself growing old with Izzie, there’s one secret he’s never been able to share with his best friend. Because sharing it would break Izzie’s heart completely.