by Cindy Miles
Jace’s fingertips brushed over my lips, barely there, just before his mouth claimed them. “You leave me in awe, Memory Thibodeaux,” he said against me, and his kiss was long, deep, and his hand dragged against my ribs and pulled me closer, his lips moving over mine and commanding entry. I gave it. His tongue brushed mine and I groaned and grasped the back of his neck and held him to me until we both came up for air.
“I don’t want this to end,” I whispered. “I don’t want to go home, Jace Beaumont.”
Jace’s eyes searched mine, an upward tilt to one side of his lips; he said nothing but swept his mouth over mine once more. “Let’s give Jasper his truck back,” he said softly.
When we rolled up to Jasper’s, he was sitting on the porch.
“Hot damn, son, I could hear you two all the way over here,” he teased in that gruff voice.
I leapt from the truck, ran up the steps and threw my arms around his neck. I kissed his cheek. “That plane is freaking awesome!” I said. “Seriously. That was the most fun I have ever had.”
“Pretty, ain’t she?” Jasper’s eyes gleamed with pride. “I’m glad you appreciate her, darlin’. Ole Jace there ain’t too bad of a pilot, huh?”
I glanced behind me at said pilot. “Nope. He’s pretty darn good.”
Jasper winked. “He learned from the best.”
And I truly believed it. How freaking cool to learn how to fly under the instruction of a badass World War II fighter pilot? “Learning from a real live Ace, he should be! Thanks, Jasper.” I hugged and kissed him again. “I’m sure glad to have met you.”
Jasper’s cheeks turned beet red. “Get out of here, you two,” he grumbled. “But come back. Soon.”
With a promise to come by again next week, we left Jasper’s and headed home. As we bumped along his drive, I looked at Jace, and wasn’t too surprised to see he was looking at me.
On the ride home, Jace laced his strong fingers through mine, lifted our joined hands, and brushed his lips over my knuckles. “I’ve never met anyone like you before, Memory Thibodeaux,” he said with a somber laugh. “I’m pretty sure I won’t ever again.”
For a split second—barely a flicker in time—guilt pushed at me. Up from my stomach, jamming in my throat like a wad of cotton. It was so fast, I barely recognized it. I did though, and did not welcome it. Not now. Not the Hell At All. I shoved it back down, cotton wad and all, to that place where the rest of my guilt got shoved, and forgot that I was being irresponsible. I was being dishonest. And that I should probably tell Jace my situation.
Yeah, Memory. Try that, why don’t ya? Oh, Jace, just one thing. I have a brain tumor and I may not survive it, so I’m living life to the fucking fullest right now, and you’re included in The Fun. Phew! Now that that’s out of the way, let’s have nasty sex.
That’s right. All of that ran through my head in the amount of time it took a flame to ignite on a Zippo. And just that fast I pushed it away. Talk about a mood killer! I’d been dazzled by Jace and the day had been as perfect as it could ever have been. And now I wanted the night to be just as perfect, too.
Jace held my hand while he drove, and I marveled at how such a simple act as handholding could be so intimate. But it was. The warmth of his strong fingers entwined with mine and, knowing that he genuinely liked me for me and not just a big pair of boobs, long legs, and a good lay…astonished me. He thought I was funny. He thought I was beautiful, and somehow it felt so different, coming from Jace Beaumont. It felt so very, very real. It shocked me a little, knowing I’d never experienced real. Was that normal at twenty-two?
Not to mention…we both knew all the words to “My Heart Will Go On.” We’d sung it together, to the top of our lungs in the back of a pick-up truck beneath a star-dappled night’s sky. What could be more real than that?
We passed Killian’s Welcome sign and Jace turned down a road I’d not been down before, and it led to a single strand of townhouses nestled beneath a copse of cottonwoods. Jace pulled in and drove to the last one before parking. He climbed out, offered his hand and I took it, and wordlessly he led me to the door.
It was quiet out—only the night crawlers and crickets made their presence known, but I swear I could hear my heart beating right along with them. When Jace stuck his key in the lock I ducked under his arm and stood with my back against the door, my eyes searching his, and his mouth crashed against mine then, his hands on my hips, his tongue chasing mine, and we were almost frantic, unable to get quite close enough. When he lifted his head, his eyes had darkened, and he opened the door, pushed me inside and kicked the door shut with his foot. I found myself with my back against the door, Jace’s arms braced on either side of my head as his mouth came down again, his lips claiming mine, his tongue soft and firm and demanding and erotic. Sensation flooded my body, made my breath catch, and my head fell back and Jace’s lips caught my throat and that sensation, too, made me shiver with anticipation.
Then his mouth went to my ear, and his whispered words were harsh, soft, sincere and erotic, all at once.
“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, and he lifted his head, his eyes searching mine, our lips so close his words caressed me. “Christ, Memory.” He pressed our mouths together. “Don’t say no.”
I answered softly, and my fingertips went to his jaw, traced his lips, and I smiled against him. “I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life.”
My words ignited Jace—detonated us both—and then my mind went numb as raw desire replaced any conscious thought present. Our mouths fused, neither of us wanting to let go, to stop the devouring long enough to move, to undress.
Until we did.
Jace pushed back and braced his weight on either side of my head, rested his forehead against mine for a moment, and our ragged breath became one, in sync. My body hummed and I craved him all at once—so much that I trembled. Then he lowered his head and kissed me slow, and his fingers moved to the snaps on my shirt and once they were all released, he pushed it off my shoulders and it fell to the floor. He pulled my tank off and it joined the shirt in a heap at our feet. Slowly, his fingertips caressed my inked shoulder, tracing the intricate design, and the feel of his calluses against my skin caused the heat to pool between my legs. When his mouth dropped to my shoulder, his fingers falling softly over my ribs, then to the button of my jeans, I stifled a moan and, at the sound of it his gentleness vanished, and he pushed the material down my hips. I heeled off my Converses, stepped out of them and kicked them all aside. Then I grasped him by the shoulders and turned him around, because the need burning inside of me raged like nothing I’d ever experienced and I lost control. I pushed him back—hard against the door where we just couldn’t seem to move away from, and he let me, and the fire darkened his eyes as he let me pull off his long-sleeved shirt. He yanked the remaining T-shirt over his head and flung it to the floor, leaving my hands to explore the hard ridges of his abdomen, the muscles in his chest, and when my fingers trailed down his stomach to desperately grasp at the button of his jeans he groaned. He gripped my head with his hands and his mouth covered mine as we crashed against the door, frantic, carnal. I slid my hands up to his shoulders, lifted first one leg and then the other and straddled his waist. Fire pooled between my legs as I pressed against him; close wasn’t close enough. His hands went to my backside, his fingers digging into my skin and he tasted, kissing me hard and furious, and he held me against him as he walked with me to…I didn’t even know nor care. Anywhere. As long as this didn’t stop. As long as he Didn’t Stop Touching Me.
We halted again and Jace pinned my body with his, my back against the wall by the window, and my hands went to Jace’s jaw and our mouths fused. Our tongues tangled, and in our haste and fury the curtain rod buckled and the drapes crashed down. We barely noticed. Neither of us cared, and Jace’s mouth went to my throat and his lips and tongue tasted my skin, and we moved through the dark and down the hall.
Turned on didn’t sum it up. No, it was a fuckin
g inferno raging inside of me, from every nerve ending, from every pore, and any minute I expected it to flow over, to explode out of me like lava. Something boiled from my core, from a cellular level, and I no longer had conscious thoughts or control. When Jace lowered me onto his bed and kicked off his boots, pushed his jeans over his hips and tossed them aside, his eyes locked onto mine and I felt hypnotized. He reached with his hand and I took it, and he pulled me up to my knees, unfastened the T-shirt bra I wore and pushed it off my shoulders, his gaze turning darker as he drank me in. His mouth moved over my bare skin, and I shivered as his tongue brushed erotically over first one breast, then the other, the sensation of his lips dragging against the sensitive area, making it prickle.
I fell back and took him with me. He braced his weight with one arm, though, and in the moonlight streaming through his window I watched his eyes, no longer sage but dark, murky pools as they moved slowly over my bare body. I drank in the hard cut of his stomach, his chest, and the strong width of his shoulders, his narrow hips. I reached for him and he fell on me and there, our bodies entwined, our mouths hungry and tasting and devouring. I rolled on top of him, felt his hardened arousal beneath me, and his hands grasped my hips and we rolled again—right off the bed. We landed on the floor with a grunt, still wrapped in each other’s arms, and I pushed Jace back, my mouth trailing over the muscled column of his throat, then lower, over his chest. I dragged my lips over his stomach, and his fingers shoved through my hair. He rolled onto me, his body heavy against mine, his gaze fevered and searing. We rose and, with our mouths fused, tumbled back onto the bed.
My panties came off, his boxer briefs came off, and we were bare skin to bare skin, and I didn’t really know where his body stopped and mine started and I didn’t care. We rolled, Jace hovered over me, his mouth moved to my throat, my clavicle, my breasts, and I arched into him, wanting more, not getting as close as I needed. I searched then, driven by that desire, and my fingers moved to his hips until I found what I was looking for—hard, heavy, and I grasped Jace in my palm and squeezed. His head lifted, his eyes found mine, and we were both dazed. He moved away from me then, stretched over me, and I heard a drawer open. Close. The tearing sound of a wrapper. And in the shadows he bowed his head and his hands disappeared and I watched his silhouette pull a condom over his length.
He grasped my hands then, raised them above my head and laced our fingers together, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, and for a moment we simply stared. I burned the starved look I saw in his eyes into my memory, willed it to stay there forever. Then he lowered his head and, the moment his lips claimed mine, and his tongue brushed my tongue, our fingers grasped each other tighter and he pushed into me. My hips rose to take him all in, and we moved with each other, slowly at first. Our mouths bonded, and my climax was already there, building from my core and climbing—climbing until it peaked and exploded out of me and I arched into Jace. My heels dug into his buttocks as we rocked, and his climax followed and he buried his mouth against my throat, thrust into me, and still he held our hands prisoner as we both fell, our breathing tattered.
Slowly, we tumbled out of the crazed fog we’d been in, and Jace didn’t move off of me, and I didn’t want him to. His head lifted, though, and he was braced above me on his forearms, and his eyes were soft as they searched mine. My eyes were fastened on the sexy half-moon scar on his cheek, the long lashes, and lips that were absolutely made for long, slow, endless hours of kissing.
His hand released mine, he moved off and to the side of me, and his thumb caressed my lips in a way that sped my heart up again. And a slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“You take my breath away, Memory Thibodeaux,” he said quietly. In That Voice. The same voice that got me the very first time I’d heard it.
I could do nothing but smile, and I felt my heart clinch at his words. “I’m starting to think Fate knows exactly what she’s doing,” I said.
His grin widened. “She?”
I nodded, slipped my hand around the back of his head and pulled his mouth down to mine. “You don’t think a man could’ve made such a perfect match, do ya?”
Jace Beaumont didn’t answer me, but he kissed me again. It was long. It was slow. And then he settled back, pulled me half onto his chest with his arm around my waist, and he kissed the top of my head. “Perfect, indeed,” he said.
My mouth pulled into a smile, my eyes closed, and I let my hand rest on Jace’s chest. I wondered if I had ever felt so content in all of my whole entire life. I fell asleep trying to remember.
When my eyes flickered open, the room wasn’t quite as dark, and I focused on Jace’s profile. He still had an arm draped over me, his other arm thrown over his eyes. I watched the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, silhouetted by the hazy moonlight still present in the room. I noticed the strong cut of his jaw, his firm bicep, and I couldn’t help but trace the outline of the scar that shined silver. That light touch of my fingertip roused him, and his arm pulled me closer, then on top of him, and without words we began again, that slow dance caused by Fate, intimate touches that burned, and kisses that would surely make me lose my mind if they ever stopped.
This time was different; the urgency was still there but had slowed to grateful patience, and each touch lingered, discovered, explored. Each kiss loitered, tasted, savored. Our climaxes rose together that second time, and it was like gunpowder had gone off behind my eyes, and we rocked together as we both came down, and the last thing I remembered was Jace’s lips pressing against my temple.
Again, my eyes flickered open, but the culprit rousing me was the delicious scent of bacon, cinnamon and apples wafting through the air, and my stomach growled. Still not light out, the room was laced with haze, and my eyelids still felt heavy. I was surprised to find myself alone, and I pushed up, stretched, and hugged the sheet to my breasts.
The faint sound of whistling came from another room, and the whistling turned into words of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.” I fell back onto the pillows and clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from squealing out loud with laughter. Jace was making something very tasty in the kitchen as he sung one of my most favorite songs. Ever. Of All Time. And he wasn’t half bad.
Jace crooned softly, and I rolled onto my stomach and buried my face into the pillows, and then stilled so I could hear more.
Then, I couldn’t take it. I eased out of the bed, spied a discarded shirt of Jace’s thrown over the back of a chair and slipped it on. Not knowing where to even look for my panties, I decided not to worry since the shirt fell mid-thigh, and crept to the bedroom door. Glancing down the hall, and keeping a hand firmly over my mouth because with each word emphasized in lyric almost had me bursting into laughter, I eased down the hall. The kitchen and living room area was one opened space, and I leaned against the wall for a moment and delighted in the sight and sound before me of a half-naked, broad-shouldered cowboy wearing a pair of jeans, opened at the fly—which was a total hot turn on, not to mention it totally accentuated his perfect ass and slightly-bowed muscular legs. He was armed with a spatula that he’d pause and use as a mic, while seriously getting down on the lyrics of one of the most difficult songs known to the classic rock world.
Who was I to interrupt?
Until I had to.
I joined him in the lyrics; in sync, off key, and…perfect.
Jace’s head dropped back, then he glanced at me, smiled, and pointed at me with the spatula, and shook his head. He finished the lyric with me.
We continued singing the song, our voices rising in some parts, and then Jace set the spatula down and twirled me around as we danced and sung the Rhapsody in his small kitchen. We didn’t finish because we both started laughing too much.
“Bacon!” Jace suddenly said, and whipped around me, grabbed the spatula and flipped the pork over in the pan. He turned around and I sidled up between his wide-spread legs, slipped my arms around his bare waist, and he tucked my head beneath his chin.
“I’m an early riser,” he said, and his voice rumbled through his chest at my ear. “Besides, your stomach was growling so loud, it woke me up.”
“Lies and deceit!” I said, then looked up at him. “Was it really?”
He grinned, and his eyes softened as he studied me. “I woke up thinking about you.”
My smile was slow and unstoppable. “You did, huh?”
He returned the grin. “Yeah. You’re gorgeous when you’re sleeping. Hungry?”
“Starved,” I answered, my breath catching a little, and I wrapped my leg around his.
His eyes darkened. “I have to be in class at seven thirty.”
That jolted me into reality. “Shit! It’s Monday!”
Jace laughed. “Yesterday was Sunday, so yeah.” He kissed my nose. “This would be Monday.”
“Class. We both have class,” I stammered. Then I narrowed my gaze. “Did you put da whammy on me, boy?”
A genuine smile lifted Jace’s mouth. “I hope to hell so.” Then his eyes grew glassy, and his expression grew concerned. “Your dad is going to strangle me.”
“Jace,” I said, and grasped his free hand with mine. “I’m a grown woman. Not a teenager.” I grabbed his face with my hands. “I don’t have a curfew anymore”
Jace sighed. “I know that but it’s…more of a respect thing, Memory,” he said. “A girl is always going to be Daddy’s little girl, no matter how old you get.”
I laughed softly. “You’re probably right. Let’s eat this scrumptious fare, go unload all of the wonderful scraps you helped me with, and trust me.” I kissed his nose. “Max understands you’ve got your hands full with me, yeah.”
Jace’s gaze found mine and steadied, searched, and he brushed a thumb over my jaw. “Are they?” he asked. “Full. Of you?”