by Siera London
✥
Princess. Trace tightened his hold around the woman in his arms. Warmth, all encompassing and smooth as slow churned butter, spread through him. How had Tori morphed an innocent word like freaking princess into the hottest two-syllables to ever hit his eardrum? She was the queen of one-word bombshells. First protect, now this shit. He was already a goner with her little body in his big mitts. The ladies cut t-shirt hugged her pert breasts, showcasing them to perfection. Over her shoulder, he trailed his eyes lower. Tori’s backside was a sculpted masterpiece. Even his large hands needed a pair of hands to handle what the woman had packed in those jeans. His brain started a game of flash tag, fantasizing about all her soft curves molded beneath his hardness. Oh yeah, he could stay buried inside her for hours.
“Hey Beastie, you got money to pay for all the rides you taking with those sexy eyes of yours?”
He drew in a deep breath, not embarrassed in the least that she’d noticed him checking her out. “Not on me,” he said releasing her to pat his pockets. “You take IOUs?”
Had he made a joke? The corner of her mouth lifted into a half smile like his comeback surprised her. The exchange was foreign to him, but he felt a ping in his chest. He liked that he’d put a smile on her face.
“First one’s free,” she laughed.
“I’m more than willing to pay my debt.” Oh, what would it cost him to keep the impulsive little beauty in his home?
“If money is changing hands, you’re the one who deserves the lion’s share.”
His eyes landed on her scarred arms. Images of the torturous acts people engaged in to support their habit tried to invade his thoughts. Giving his head a shake, he blocked them out. “You don’t owe me anything.” His tone firm.
She followed his gaze. Frowning, she took a step back. Aware that she’d placed distance between them, he instantly felt her cool absence on his skin.
“I’m not what you think,” she snapped. “I can deal with the stares out there.” With her left hand, she pointed to the sliders leading onto his private balcony. “I hear the whispered comments...but, not from you, Trace. Not you. You understand?”
He did. When two people survived a life or death event, the shared experience forged an alliance. He’d seen her at her weakest point, the intimacy of him breathing life into her body, meant a part of him stayed with her. There would be no judgment between them because in essence, they shared a life. But, Trace said none of that. Instead, he reverted back to a general truth of his encounters with most people.
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“Fine,” she clipped. “If you want to pretend you don’t see the tracks on my arms, let’s get back to business. You married or got a girlfriend?”
He felt his whole body stiffen. Tori must have sensed the change in him because her face blanked of all emotion. She turned toward the door. Panic gripped him. Before she could take a step, he grabbed her arm and spun her around. “No,” came his terse reply.
Her eyes lit up, a Vegas style road sign. “You want one?”
Her forwardness had surprised him in the hospital, though he didn’t let on. But this time, his mouth hung open.
Her mouth twisted in a grimace. “Too direct?” From there, the conversation took off without him. “Sorry, I caught you with a Tori Special Edition in the gut. Men expect women to be demure and shy. I can be, but I have to focus. It’s just—”
Trace inhaled a steadying breath. The stream of words made him dizzy. “Stop.”
She cast wide eyes up to him. “What did I say?”
What hadn’t she said? “Where the heck did all that come from?”
“Out of my mouth,” she teased. “It’s a relevant question.”
“To what, Beauty?”
“You brought me home, so I want to understand the nature of our arrangement.”
“There’s no arrangement, woman. I haven’t agreed to anything.”
She glanced down at the erection standing long and proud behind his zipper.
“Oh,” she said pointing at his groin. “I thought you had.”
Rising up on the tips of her toes, she brushed a kiss across his lips. Softness. The first contact was that of velvet against his skin, and then the delicate cool taste of honeydew touched his tongue. Fingers, sure and eager, touched his stomach. The hem of his shirt began a slow cruise up his abdomen. His skin sizzled with her every touch as she moved higher, and then higher up his big body. As she touched him, her delicate fingertips glided, as if she were mapping him into her memory. Near his navel, she hit a rise, and then a dip, and her fingers paused. Trace cataloged everything she gave him in those brief seconds. In his mind, he filed snap shots of every burn like he could visualize his body’s reaction before his eyes, every valley she touched, and then he trapped her wrist, stopping her. She looked up at him, those doe eyes marred in confusion. When she would have settled back onto her feet, he lifted her up in of his massive arms, until they were face to face. Her curves relaxed against the sculpted planes of his chest. Need fired through his veins. Hardened nipples brushed his pecs and he had to clench his fist to tamp down his instinct to claim.
“How about we take the merry-go-round tonight instead of the scream machine?” Wrong move, Trace thought as he held Tori in his arms. The pulse in his pants agreed, but he wasn’t in the habit of sleeping with women on the fly. She tempted him beyond sanity, true. But when he looked into her eyes, he wanted more than one night of pleasure and there were things that needed to be discussed before clothes hit the floor.
She dropped a kiss on his nose. “Okay,” she beamed. “I can do that.”
Tori seemed confident, but Trace was already praying he could make it through the night with this vibrant woman heating up a lot more than just his life.
Chapter Four
Tori bent to smell her roses. Trace had placed them on the bar. The small marble topped island separated the kitchen from the living space. On bare feet, she moved to peer around Trace’s broad back. “How much longer till dinner?”
He was at the range top where a few stalks of broccoli laid in a steamer basket. His hair hung loose down his back, a river of black satin. She grabbed two handfuls, burying her face in the heavy mass.
He laughed. “Keep distracting me and it’s Mickey D’s for you.”
She frowned. “Can I use your phone?”
He looked over his shoulder. “Checking in with someone?” He watched her face, studying her expression.
She ducked her head, not wanting to lie to him. “Just something I need to look up.”
He gestured to the ottoman beyond the bar stools. “Check there first. If no luck, check the valet in my bedroom.”
When she turned to go, a hand landed on her backside.
“Don’t be gone too long. I’m starving.”
The desire in his voice fell over her like raw silk. His mouth twitched in a playful gesture she hadn’t noticed before. The look suited him.
She grinned. “Me too.” Before she could be distracted by the heated looks he bestowed her with, Tori bounded up the stairs. She needed privacy. Trace had avoided the senior village on the drive home. It was too late for visiting hours, but maybe tomorrow she could get away to see her father. She prayed he’d fared better than her under the care of Denton’s private medical staff. She rubbed at the track marks on her arms. Lifting her shirt, she pulled Trace’s phone from her waistband. With him in the kitchen, it had been easy to tuck it beneath her shirt. Her Internet search provided her with the senior village layout and visiting hours. Hopefully the personal bank account she’d established during her college travels abroad was still open. She punched in her password. Invalid password appeared in red letters. She sucked in a breath. Cut off. She exited the screen before the tears could start.
Currey Industries had total control of her life, her money, and her house until she turned twenty-five. If at that time Tori were to be married, she or her husband would assume a position equa
l to her father’s and her trust fund would be turned over to her. If she remained unmarried, twenty-five percent of her trust would be donated to one of her mother’s charities and her position in the company would be opened to a qualified applicant for a five-year term. When her father ran the company, she hadn’t seen a problem with the stipulations of her trust. Her father was an honorable man that would never abandon her, but since his heart attack, the interim executive officer had assumed control of her affairs. Tori’s life had changed dramatically.
“Tori.” Trace’s voice echoed up to the second floor. “Dinner.”
“Coming,” she called, wiping at her eyes. Dropping the phone on to the valet, she pasted on a smile.
Half way down the stairs, she could smell the distinct scent of coconut milk and grilled fish wafting up to greet her. Her stomach growled.
“Woman, I don’t like my food cold.”
She jumped down the last step. “Me neither,” she replied, turning the corner. “I knew we were a perfect match.”
Trace stood next to one of the dinette chairs. Two plates were on the table. Whole grilled fish, chopped potatoes, and broccoli were on one plate. The other boasted the same meal, but double the portions. She gave Trace a curious look. Could he really eat that much food in one meal?
“I’m a man, Princess,” he said to her silent question.
She took note of his toned muscle. Tori wondered how soft his skin would be over all that hard-packed steel. “I can see that,” she said taking a seat.
She expected one of his looks when she was too blunt, instead he laughed. He’d done that a lot in the past few hours.
“Sit. Eat.”
Trace dug in without another word. Each mouthful he followed with a swig from his beer bottle. When he noticed her watching him, he stilled.
“You want one?”
She involuntarily recoiled. After what she’d suffered, the drugs, the hellish days and nights without control of her own body, she didn’t think she could ever imbibe. “No...no, thank you.”
Trace narrowed his eyes. She dropped her head and ate in silence. God, he probably thought she was a whack-job.
“Tori, look at me.” When she dragged her gaze to his, he winked. “I get it.”
She appreciated that he didn’t force more answers than she was willing to give. Not yet. Trace made her feel comfortable. She wanted to tell him everything, but then...she’d made that mistake before. The need to give him some truth about her life tugged at her heart.
“I used to drink...before this.”
He looked at her arms. Unlike most people who quickly looked away, his eyes took on a faraway look. Who in his life had arms that looked like hers she wondered.
✥
Trace put the last of the dishes in the automatic washer. He’d given Tori the job of arranging the leftovers packed in storage containers in the refrigerator. He felt her presence behind him.
He turned to find her in his personal space. That sweet melon scent he’d first noticed in the hospital poured off her now.
“I need a spoon,” she said. Her voice came out too soft, and where he had been semi-hard since she’d buried her hands in his hair, he could hammer nails now.
“What for?” With his stomach full, his libido was hungry for another type of feast.
She grinned and lifted a half-gallon of chocolate mint ice cream to his mouth.
He shook his head. “You’re going to be wired if you eat that.”
She blew him an air kiss. And dang, he wanted to catch the thing and put it in his pocket.
“I’m always wired.”
He fished in the tray of clean utensils in the stainless-steel basket beside the sink. Pulling free a spoon, he handed it to her. “Anything else you need, Princess?”
The clink of the washer signaling the timer had been set seemed to be an on button for Tori.
Removing the lid, she pushed the spoon deep into the soft center. Damn, Trace nearly creamed in his boxers. Did she have any idea how sexy she was? The way she danced from one idea to the next without pretense, he suspected she had no inkling of the power she held over anything with a Y chromosome.
“Open up, Beastie.”
He hesitated for a second. She raised a brow, giving him a mock grimace. Bending, he opened his mouth for her. When she slid the spoon between his lips, her own lips parted. The icy sweetness against the warmth of his mouth felt incredible. Shit, what was she doing to him? He’d eaten everything he’d cooked tonight a hundred times and yet, in her presence, every spice was amplified. He must have made a sound.
“Good?”
He looked at her. “The best I’ve ever had,” he said.
She licked her lips and this time, he did use his tongue to taste her. Real slow, his licked and nibbled on her lower lip, before sucking the fullness in his mouth. The need to possess her, claim her, overwhelmed him, but he’d promised himself he’d go slow with her. Let her grow to trust him with her secrets. So far, she hadn’t divulged anything about her past. He noticed she could boost a phone, but he didn’t call her on it.
“Take me to bed, Trace,” she whispered.
“I will,” he hesitated, “when you show me who you really are.”
He walked past her and out of the kitchen. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Not just because he had a stiff one wedged against his thigh, either.
✥
Tori plopped down on the cowhide couch next to Trace. He didn’t scoot away when their arms touched, so she stayed put. How many days did she have before Denton found her? If she only had hours, she’d give every second to the man beside her.
“So,” she said, looking up into his dark eyes, framed by custom lashes. That was the only way a man could be blessed with thick and lush everything. “We’ve established that you prefer the opposite sex.” He shot her a scowl before snatching the TV remote off the table and flicking the on switch.
“If you want me to spank your ass, just ask, Tori. You don’t have to piss me off.”
“Hum, I’ll keep that in mind.” She swung around, feet resting on the couch and dropped her head into his lap.
He glanced down at her and turned off the television. “You want to play?”
“Maybe. But first, I have another question.”
“If it’s a question you know the answer to, then be prepared to roll over. Ass up.”
“Okay. You’re definitely an ass man.” He growled and moved to get off the couch. “No, I meant into the female ass. You like my ass.”
He grunted.
When he didn’t say anything, she sandwiched his lips between her thumb and forefinger. “Oh, come on. Throw a girl a compliment. I’m insecure about my body.”
He erupted in laughter. “Liar. That’s why you basically stripped at the hospital?”
“Oh, that,” she chided. “That was therapeutic.”
“For who?”
“Us. Compatibility is important, Trace, even with roommates.”
“So now we are roommates? You gonna sleep in your bed tonight.”
“Not if I can help it.”
She hated sleeping alone. Denton had hired private duty nurses to care for her. The drugs kept her in a near comatose state, locked in a bed, alone, always alone in the quiet.
“Ask your question, Tori.”
“You read romance novels to me.”
He shifted beneath her, his fingers stroking her scalp.
“Yeah.”
“Were they your books?”
He stopped moving. Not even his abdomen shifted with the inhale.
“They belonged to my best friend.”
“A woman?” Why had he kept them? She’d seen every inch of his home. No woman had been in this home in a long time, or maybe never.
“That’s right.”
“You’re keeping them for her?”
“Tori,” he ground out. “I told you I was unattached.”
“Except you’re attached to another woman’s romanc
e novels.”
He released a frustrated sigh. “She liked them. I thought you might, too.”
“You read to her while she was in the hospital, too.”
He tried to get up then, but she rolled onto her side, snaking both arms around his waist. The action brought her cheek in contact with the erection they both had tried to ignore.
“I used to.”
There was something about his answer that sounded final.
“This woman...she hurt you?”
“No. She died.”
Tori sucked in a breath at the anger in his tone. It was obvious the death still affected him. Knowing that someone had damaged him in any way angered her. Trace was kind, thoughtful, and generous in a hulky ‘you need a spanking’ way. His muscles bunched beneath her fingers and she thought to change the subject.
“You were right about the stories. I like them, except...”
“Except,” he quizzed, the hand in her hair tightening on the strands.
“We didn’t finish Gideon and Lina’s story. How does he convince her to stay with him?”
“The book is in the car. I’ll put it in your room.”
“No, I want you to read it to me, like before.”
Their eyes met and held. “Why is that?”
“The sound of your voice, I...I like...”
The hand he’d threaded through her strands, gave a slight tug on the roots. “The rest,” he said.
“I like the way you take care of me,” she whispered.
“Tori.”
“Yes?”
“No more talking,” he said, covering her mouth with his.
Her plan was to allow him a sample, whetting his appetite for more to come. Trace wanted nothing to do with appetizers. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, feasting. Tori came on board, fast. His command of their kiss was soft and hard. A tender stroke followed by a demanding bite. She didn’t know what to expect. She loved it. Now, if she could just get Trace to unleash the passion she knew he held back.
Chapter Five