Heart of Steele

by Randi Alexander

  The world around them loomed silent as large, fluffy snowflakes came from the sky in a dizzying three-dimensional effect and steam rose from the water.

  “This is great.” She caught flakes on her arms, stuck out her tongue to catch more, and shook the clingers off her hair.

  “Taste good?” He stood in water up to his chest, watching her.

  “They’re so unique.” Catching flakes in her palm, she studied them. “Like popcorn, none of them are the same.”

  He laughed. “You’re the only person in the world who compares snowflakes to popcorn.”

  Looking up at the falling snow, she turned in a circle. “I’m the world’s greatest connoisseur of popcorn.”

  “Addicted?” His voice was closer.

  “Addicted.”

  He picked her up in his arms and took them into deeper water. “Put your arms out. Float.” His eyes had transformed back to the green-flecked gray she’d fallen for when she’d first met him. “Trust me.”

  “Of course I do.” She didn’t know very many people she could say that about. Laying back, she spread her arms and flattened her body so he could hold her up. He turned her slowly in the water.

  The experience was powerful, the sky seeming to fall a piece at a time, the flakes hitting her body with cold little snaps, and the steam rising to blur it all and make it seem surreal. “Wow.”

  “Now close your eyes.”

  She looked at him and did as he asked. The feelings changed, the warm water below her, the frosty chunks on her top half, and Steele’s arms holding her, slowly moving her through the water.

  Pretending that this was her life was so easy. Her eyes popped open. This was not her life. She sat up and stood next to Steele. “That’s really cool.”

  His hands skimmed her body. “Glad you enjoyed it. It’s not often that the winds aren’t blowing.” He touched her hair. “We’d better get you inside before you freeze.” They swam inside, he closed the access door, then led her out of the pool to an open shower.

  They rinsed off and Tracy used the offered shampoo and conditioner on her hair. Wrapped in more of the big, fluffy white towels, she hung their swimsuits on chairs to dry before they went into his man cave.

  They took the spiral staircase up to his room. She yawned. “I’m going to go lie down for a bit.” She leaned into him and grinned. “All this world travel has worn me out.”

  He pulled her tight against him. “Sleep in my bed.” He blinked a couple times. “If you’d like.”

  “Are you lying down, too?” They wouldn’t get much naptime in, but it’d be worth it to see what other sexy positions Steele had in mind.

  “No. I’ve got to work for a while. I’ll be downstairs.” He kissed her forehead. “Whatever makes you comfortable.” A little crease appeared between his brows as he walked away, tossing his towel into a hamper then grabbing clothes from one of the dressers. He pulled on his shirt as he went downstairs.

  That was odd. Why did the thought of her sleeping in his bed make him frown?

  ****

  Steele jogged down the steps, naked except for his T-shirt. What the hell? He’d told Tracy she could nap in his bed, then a vision of her there with a sleeping baby in her arms flooded his imagination. A baby? Hell, he’d never been psychic before, but it had appeared out of nowhere, and been so real. It had to be all the talk of Chase and Reno’s new baby.

  He tugged the rest of his clothes on and powered up his computer. As he drank a bottle of water, he mentally separated Tracy from thoughts of a family with her. For now. They were still new to each other, although the last two days had been like a month of dates concentrated into a short period.

  Nearly forty e-mails popped up and he focused on answering them, making decisions, booking dates. One from his agent said, “Check your voice mail.” He patted his pockets. His phone was up in his room. He took the steps quietly, but she wasn’t in his bed. Or his bathroom. He strode to the hallway. Her bedroom door was closed. “Shit.” He’d scared her out of his room?

  He grabbed his phone and went back down to his cave. The voice mail was just Rex telling him they were still working on the sucker-punch problem, but to be ready to move with little notice. He also mentioned they couldn’t find a connection between the studio employee and a tabloid, but the man was making a fortune off telling his story to every celebrity news show that’d have him.

  Steele deleted the message and sat back in the office chair. He didn’t want to leave here. He’d steal as much time as he could with Tracy. Swinging around, he faced the windows. Snow still came down. They were getting a hell of a lot more than a couple inches.

  He strolled to the couch and picked up the guitar he kept there at all times. Next to it was a notepad of music staff paper and a couple of pencils. A song about being snowed in for a week ran through his head. Stranded with Tracy. Tracy. His cock tingled as blood rushed into it. Adventurous, wanting to try anal sex for the first time. And holy shit, was it amazing.

  Then her childlike awe at the snow. She had so many qualities he was looking for in a woman, but her secrets kept him wondering. He’d been lied to so much recently. His dad, Ryder, they swore neither had known about each other, but he just couldn’t believe it. Too much coincidence with Ryder worming his way into Steele’s life.

  “Fuck.” He felt his blood pressure rising. He didn’t have to wallow in that swill today, or for the next few days when, hopefully, he’d have a solution to the problem that had exiled him. And Tracy.

  He strummed a couple chords on his guitar. “Tracy.” He sang. “Where do you keep those secrets hidden.” He smiled. “Sugarbeet.”

  He opened his eyes. It was dark outside. He’d fallen asleep? He never napped. The fresh air and sex had knocked him out. He sniffed. Food? Sniffing again, he set down the guitar and got up, stretching with a loud yawn and louder stomach rumble. What was Tracy up to?

  He trudged through the lower hallway to the kitchen. Low lights glowed and soft country music played from the under-cabinet radio. The smell of beef invaded his senses, big pots bubbled on the stove, sending steam up to the rafters. Tracy closed the refrigerator door and spotted him. “Hi. Hope you’re hungry. I felt like cooking.” She wore a baggy pink T-shirt and black yoga pants, along with the floppy pink slippers she’d had on earlier. Her long hair was pulled back into a thick braid that hung down her spine.

  “Starving.” No one had really used the kitchen before. His sister liked to bring reheatable meals that she could throw into the microwave. “I didn’t know you cooked.” He walked to the stove and looked into the pots. Boiling potatoes in one, a head of cauliflower steaming in the other.

  A buzzer sounded from the laundry room.

  She hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind. I found the laundry and washed a few things.”

  “Of course not. Make this your home.” Shit, he’d meant to say, “make yourself at home” but his brain must still be half asleep.

  She laughed. “Okay, just sign over the place to me, and I will.” She strode to him, peeking at him from under her lashes. “I tiptoed into your cave and saw you sleeping.” She wrapped her arms around his middle and looked up at him. “You’re kinda sexy when you’re out cold.”

  He slid his hands down her back, pulling her closer. “Just when I’m asleep?” His cock took the opportunity to swell.

  “No. All the time.” She lifted up on tiptoe and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re just less dangerous when you’re asleep, though.”

  “Dangerous?” He jutted his hips forward, pushing his cock into her soft belly.

  “You’re a danger to my...” She frowned.

  What was she going to say? Heart? Jeez, was his imagination working overtime, or what?

  “To my self-control.” She stepped back from him with a sigh.

  He didn’t want to, but he let her go.

  The microwave buzzed and the dryer sounded again.

  “I’ll get the laundry
.” He stepped around her.

  “Towels are in the washer if you want to dry them next.”

  She’d washed a load of towels? Sweet. From the dryer, he pulled the bra, panties, shorts, and t-shirt she’d been wearing yesterday at the video shoot. He folded them and set them on the dryer and tossed the towels in next.

  When he returned to the kitchen, she was at the sink straining the water from the boiled potatoes. “Will you mash?”

  “Sure.” His mom used to have him mash the potatoes for her. A long time ago.

  Tracy set him up with melted butter, hot milk, and a metal potato masher.

  She pulled a roast out of one of the ovens, the scent of perfectly cooked beef, crusted with spices and salt, filled the air.

  His mouth watered as he worked the potatoes until there were no lumps left.

  When she pulled a rectangular pan of chocolate cake from the other oven, he knew she’d found the way to his heart.

  They transferred the meal onto platters and hauled them to the dining room table where she’d set out plates, silver, cloth napkins, and wine glasses. Their place settings were across from each other at the end of the table closest to the windows where they could watch the snow falling.

  He turned on the outdoor spotlights and Tracy stepped to the wall of windows. “Oh, Steele. It’s so beautiful.”

  Walking up behind her, taking her in his arms. “It is.” Peaceful, quiet, everything he wanted, he had right here. He turned her toward him, wanting her to know how much the last two days had affected him. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. It was fun. I haven’t had the opportunity to cook for anyone in a while.” She took his hand and led him to the table. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

  He followed her, not correcting her assumption that he was grateful for her cooking. Which he was. But the rest could wait until later.

  They feasted on medium-rare roast beef, mashed potatoes, beef gravy, cauliflower spiced with Cajun seasoning, plus rolls she’d found in the freezer and called “cheating” as she promised to make real rolls for him the next day.

  They went through a bottle of wine and opened a second one. She spotted a family of deer outside the window and ran to get her phone to take pictures.

  She made coffee to complement the chocolate cake she’d whipped up from a boxed mix. They brought their dessert to eat in front of the fireplace.

  He bit into the cake, nuts, chocolate chips. It had to be the most moist cake he’d ever tasted. “This is really good. Your own recipe?”

  She sipped her coffee and snuggled next to him. “Yes, add anything you can find in the cupboard and bake.”

  He offered her a bite and she took it in her mouth, licking bits of crumb from her lips. “Where’d you learn to cook like that? Everything was perfect.”

  “My mother worked nights, so I was in charge of feeding everyone.” She stared down into her cup.

  “Tracy.” He curved a finger under her chin and turned her to face him. “In the truck yesterday, you said you’d be willing to listen to me anytime I wanted to talk.” He released her chin.

  She nodded, looking at him with her soulful green eyes.

  “Same goes for me.” He’d like to know what piece of her past still loomed over her, turning her pensive and sad.

  Setting down her coffee mug, she tucked into him, wrapping her arm around his middle and resting her head on his chest. “Thank you. I really appreciate the offer. Maybe...someday.”

  He folded her into his arms. They couldn’t move forward with their relationship until everything was out in the open, but they had time. Lots of time.

  After they cleared the dishes away, they sat and talked for a few hours. He taught her how to stoke the fire, then she made him wait while she ran to get something.

  When she brought back his acoustic guitar, he stared at her, his gut clenching. “You’ve got a song you want to play for me?” Too many times, a beautiful woman slept with him to get him to listen to a song they wanted to sell him.

  He reminded himself this was Tracy, not a devious songwriter, and his whole body relaxed. Damn, he’d grown jaded after all the years in the business.

  She laughed. “Oh hell, no. You heard my one singing story.” She sat and handed him the guitar. “And we don’t want a repeat of that, do we?”

  “No.” He set the guitar on his lap. “You want me to sing?”

  “Would you?” She faced him and crossed her legs pretzel-style. “Anything is fine, I just have never heard you sing up close. Um...besides your lip-syncing with the music at the movie studio.”

  “Lip-syncing doesn’t count?” How the hell did she surprise him every time? “Sure. Here’s one of my favorites.” He sang an old ballad made famous by a long-deceased country singer. When he finished, he shrugged. “I don’t do it as well as Hank did, but I love the song.”

  “You do it just as well as him, but in your own style. You should do an album of old songs. Bring them back for today’s country fans.”

  “Someday.” When he had time to just sit and think for more than an hour at a time. “How about something from my new album?”

  She clapped and laughed. “Now you sound like you’re on stage.”

  “Yeah, sorry. Old habit.” He picked out the melody while he sang a wicked song about sex with wild country girls. He changed a few of the words to “Tracy” and “sugarbeet,” and she smiled and shook her head. He finished and set the guitar aside.

  “If I ever hear those revised lyrics at a concert, I’m going to sue.”

  He reached over and pulled her onto his lap. “Go ahead. You’ll never be able to prove you’re not a wild sex maniac.”

  Wriggling her bottom against his groin, she batted her eyes at him. “I am a wild sex maniac.” She hooked her hand around his neck and pulled him in until their lips just touched. “But only for your big, nasty cock, Steele.”

  That big nasty cock swelled and jumped under her ass, and he was ready to ride.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tracy woke with sunshine streaming in through the windows. Steele lay half on top of her, his head on her chest, his arm and leg thrown over her as if he didn’t want her to get away. Shifting, she felt the ache between her legs. She’d ridden him reverse-cowgirl on the couch, both of them naked in the light of the fire.

  He’d carried her to his bedroom then, and she’d begged for sleep and a chance to recover, but he’d slid his tongue down her body and between her legs to gently bring her to another orgasm.

  She sighed and kissed the top of his head where his hair lay rumpled. Could a girl get addicted to orgasms? How many were too many in one day, and would she ever be able to get over her need for this man?

  As the sun rose and the windows automatically tinted, she firmed up her resolve to end it the moment they left Big Bear. Otherwise, it would turn into a bump-and-run for him. Whenever he needed a quickie, he’d call her, they’d have a few wild hours, then she wouldn’t see him again for months.

  She had plans. Goals. She couldn’t be focusing on him instead of on her career.

  “Did I fall asleep with your nipple in my mouth?” His deep rumble shook through her chest.

  With a giggle, she lifted his head to look into his eyes. “I wouldn’t doubt it. You were trying to convince me to do something wicked and wild, and when I kept saying no, you just collapsed.”

  He lifted off her, leaning in and smooching her on the lips. “Wanna do something wicked and wild now?” He slid his rock-hard staff along her thigh.

  She looked up at the ceiling and spread her arms wide, dropping them on the bed. “If you insist.”

  He laughed. “Aw, sugarbeet. You insult me.” Rolling her over onto her stomach, he smacked her butt.

  She wiggled her ass. “Oooh, let me insult you a few more times.”

  He smacked her other cheek. “You like that?”

  “Uh huh. Best breakfast treat I’ve had all year.”

  “Let’s try something k
inky.” He jumped off the bed.

  She watched him dig in a dresser drawer. “Okay, but if you pull a big, nasty dong out of there—”

  “No dong.” He grabbed his cock at the base and pointed it at her. “Other than this one.”

  Licking her lips, she ran her hand over her breast. “I love that one.”

  He groaned out a shaky breath. “Save that thought for later.” He went back to digging in the drawer and came back to bed with a black scarf and wide purple cuffs on the ends of a long, silver chain.

  “I’m guessing those are for me?” The thrill of being bound, at his mercy, worked shivers of lust in her belly.

  “Uh huh. You game?” He knelt between her legs.

  “Sure.”

  He ran his hands up her back, down her spine, and over her ass. “This is going to be good.” He lay on top of her, pressing her into the mattress, and her breath whooshed out of her.

  A wave of desire rode through her. As she sucked in a breath, he pulled her arms over her head and velcroed one wrist, wrapped the chain around the bedpost, and cuffed her other wrist. “You can release yourself if you need to.” Leaning to press his lips to her ear, he whispered, “In case I get too wicked or wild.”

  His hot breath in her ear sent tingles to her nipples. “I like it when you’re naughty.”

  “Then you’re gonna love this.” He centered the blindfold over her eyes, wrapped it around her head, and tied it. “Now I’ve got you under my control.”

  Her hips started circling of their own accord as blasts of lust filled her body with sexual desire.

  Kissing her neck, his hands slid beneath her to her breasts. He spread his fingers over her nipples and squeezed each one alternately.

  The jittering desire spread through her breasts and straight down to her pussy.

  Then he was gone. The bed jiggled. She tested the cuffs, and the chain held tight. Turning her head to the other side, she listened. Silence. Was this part of the game?

  His big hand smacked her ass cheek.

  She jumped then settled, waiting for the next smack. Her ass warmed where he’d slapped it. Jiggling both cheeks, she found she liked the sting.