by J. S. Scott
I got unlimited access to his kitchen, and his staff was more than willing to fetch anything I wanted from the grocery store. I’d borrowed his car a few times to go out myself, and he’d never blinked an eye at giving over the keys to one of his expensive vehicles. I just wished he’d had a Chevy or Ford in his collection, something that didn’t make me a nervous wreck to drive. Unfortunately, I’d been stuck driving a Ferrari. Trace had insisted that it was the least expensive of the lot, but I was too stressed to ask exactly what it was worth. I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know.
A few days before Dane’s arrival with the bitchy Britney, I sat in the living room just staring at the enormous tree we’d put together. Trace was on the couch devouring the frosted Christmas sugar cookies I’d made earlier in the day, and judging by the ecstatic grunts he made between bites, he liked them.
I’d made us both a coffee to go with the cookies, well aware that the happiness I’d found in the last few weeks was about to come to an end. Once his brothers arrived, the acting part of this job was going to begin. Strangely, it wasn’t going to be hard to pretend I cared about Trace. Honestly, I was getting so addicted to him that it was pathetic. Because I was so attracted to him in some strange and mysterious ways, the sexual tension was always there, but I also just…liked him. I loved being with him. He made me feel important, like I was somehow special.
“Jesus, Eva. Don’t ever leave me. These are the best cookies I’ve ever had,” he said as he came up for air from his cookie orgy.
I smiled at him over the mug of coffee I was holding, from my position on the other end of the couch. “You said that about the fudge and the other cookies, too.” God, I loved that about him. I loved the way he didn’t think twice about complimenting me for something he enjoyed. Or how good I looked, no matter how sloppily I was dressed. There wasn’t a single day that I didn’t get encouragement from Trace for one reason or another, and I wasn’t used to being praised. It warmed me like nothing else possibly could.
He nodded. “They were amazing, too.”
I rolled my eyes at him, but I secretly loved the flattery. “So tell me about Dane. He’ll be here Monday.” It was Friday night, and I still knew so little about his family. Sebastian would arrive next week as well, and I felt like I didn’t have the details a fiancée would have on Trace’s family.
Trace and I talked about little things, and he’d shared stories about him and his two brothers from his childhood. They’d sounded like happy times, but I was interested to know what had happened since then.
“He’d never leave his Island if he could get away with it. I had to convince him that he needed to come here for Christmas.” Trace’s voice was stoic, but there was a sad inflection in his tone that he couldn’t hide.
“You said you don’t notice his scars. But how would they look to an outsider?” I wasn’t worried about Dane’s scars. I’d seen some pretty beaten up people, and I doubted much could shock me. But I wanted to know if he’d been shunned or ridiculed.
“I suppose they’d be unpleasant,” Trace said grudgingly. “He’s had more surgeries than I can count, but they’re still noticeable. He was burned over a large percentage of his body, and he broke a lot of facial bones. He’s healed, but the scars are still there.”
“Does he talk about it?”
He shook his head. “Never.”
Okay. Note to self: don’t mention the accident or Dane’s scars. “I’ll make sure the subject doesn’t come up. What does he like to talk about?”
“Dane’s not much of a talker, but he’s always ready to discuss any kind of art.”
“I’m not exactly versed in the world of art,” I said thoughtfully.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not like he can’t make polite conversation. He grew up in the world of the rich and superficial.”
Trace was grinning at me, and I smiled back at him. “I guess I just want to find common ground with your brothers. I want them to like me.”
“You don’t have to be anything except yourself and they’ll like you,” Trace muttered, unconcerned.
“You mean a convicted felon who knows nothing about polite conversation with the super-rich?”
I was, after all, an imposter. Trace and I had agreed on our story, that we had met at a party that I was helping to cater. The rest was a little vague.
“You’re not a convicted felon,” he growled, sitting his coffee and empty plate on the coffee table to glare at me.
“Pull a background check,” I replied morosely.
“Okay,” he agreed readily. “I’ll let you do it.”
I gaped at him, confused, but I jumped up and followed him into his office.
He sat me down in his enormous chair, messing with the computer in front of me, caging me between his arms that were extended to the keyboard.
God, he smelled good. I closed my eyes and inhaled, knowing I’d never forget his masculine essence. I could catch a whiff of light sandalwood, but the rest was all uniquely his scent, and my mouth watered to drink him in completely.
“Eva?”
My eyes popped open and I turned to look at him. “I’m sorry. My mind…wandered.”
“Put in your information. This is our background check pre-screening for job applicants. It picks up public records. We do a more thorough check if this comes out clean. If you’re a felon, we’d know.”
Squinting at the tiny print on the screen, I quickly filled in the information requested.
“Run it,” he insisted.
I pushed the button to start the check, my heart beating so fast that I couldn’t breathe. I knew what it was going to show, and I hated seeing it in writing. “You know it’s going to come up.”
He was silent, his focus on the screen. As soon as the report came back, he reached past me and pressed the button to print. He grabbed the report from his printer and quickly scanned it, then dropped it in front of me. “It’s clean,” he announced smugly.
My sweaty palm gripped the papers, and I rifled through the few pages that had printed. My past addresses were listed, and my employment from high school.
It’s not here.
“The report isn’t extensive enough,” I reasoned.
“Bullshit. It picks up any recorded criminal records. Yours is clean.”
I shook my head, mystified as to why it wasn’t showing. “That’s not possible.”
“It isn’t there because it’s been deleted.”
I turned my head to gape at him. “How?”
“After the video was cleaned up, it was evident that it was your mother and not you. It was a shitty video that proved nothing, but I have the technology to make it clearer. I also had a talk with Mrs. Mitchell, and a discussion with the prosecution. I knew you didn’t want to go through a lengthy process, so it was just…deleted from your record.”
Deleted? How could years of my adult life just go away? “You did it.” I was doubtful that the prosecution would just purge it from my records.
“Does it matter how it happened? It’s gone.”
No, it really didn’t matter. Whether Trace had accomplished the miracle on his own, or whether he’d had assistance, he freed me from the past.
“No. No, it doesn’t matter.”
“It will never take away what you had to endure, Eva. But it’s only fair that you don’t have to live with the crime on your record.”
“I’m free,” I mumbled in wonder. “I don’t have to worry about losing a job again over my criminal history.”
“No. I promise you the record will never show anywhere again.”
Tears formed and started pouring down my cheeks. How did a person thank somebody for doing something like this? “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You can start by never mentioning the subject again, and not putting yourself down because you have a record. You don’t. Not anymore.”
Still looking at him and the fierce green light in his eyes, I started to sob.
It wasn’t delicate or attractive. The tortured sounds escaping my mouth was a release of the pain that had been trapped inside me for a very long time. It was almost painful to let that anguish out of confinement.
Trace didn’t say a word. He simply lifted me out of the chair and strode back to the living room, allowing me to let go of the agony of the past.
All of my fear.
All of the excruciating hurt.
My sense of betrayal.
My terror of finding myself in prison.
My profound sense of being alone.
As I clung to him, those things truly became part of my past, a past that had no place interfering with my future.
“I can’t believe you did this for me,” I wailed against his shoulder.
“Believe it. I would do it over and over again if I had to.” His arms tightened as he rocked his body, making me sway along with him.
“Thank you. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you,” I choked out.
“I’ll always be here for you, Eva. You aren’t alone anymore,” he answered hoarsely.
What Trace didn’t know was that he’d never be alone either. He’d stolen a piece of my heart and soul, and I knew right then and there that I’d never get those back again.
*****
I had a hard time sleeping that night. I’d gotten out of bed and wandered to the kitchen, snatching a few cookies and a glass of milk. I stood in the dimly-lit kitchen, scarfing cookies at the counter, my unblemished past still seeming too surreal to take in.
I missed the feel of Trace’s arms around me, his strong, hard body sheltering me. He’d held me for what seemed like hours before we finally said goodnight, and now I was lonely.
I know I’m going to have to get used to being alone again shortly. Rationally, I understood that, but it couldn’t diminish the longing of my body and mind right now.
I swallowed the last of my cookie and washed it down with milk before placing the cup in the dishwasher.
I picked up my phone that had finished charging on the counter, searching for Isa’s number. I’d finally told her the truth during a long telephone conversation earlier in the week. I’d avoided her because I was ashamed of the fact that we’d arranged for me to go to culinary school, but I’d ended up in prison instead. My shame had kept me from calling her earlier, but Trace had urged me to get in touch with her. Since he’d wiped away my record and proved my innocence, my sense of embarrassment had finally fled.
Isa had comforted me, let me talk about my insecurities. She’d also prompted me to go on with my plans for school since Trace had given me enough money to get started. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do, but Isa had offered to be there to help me with anything I needed, and we’d planned to get together for lunch after the holidays.
She knew everything, even that I had feelings for Trace. I hadn’t admitted that I’d slept with him, but she’d guessed the truth.
Are you awake? I sent her the short text. It was getting late, but I figured if she was asleep, she wouldn’t reply.
My phone rang seconds later.
“Is everything okay?” Isa asked anxiously.
“It’s fine. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“You’re not. I’m waiting up for Robert. He had an emergency at work.”
My heart swelled. Isa sounded so incredibly happy. “You love him.”
“With all of my heart,” Isa admitted happily. “How’s Trace?”
“He’s good. In bed. I couldn’t sleep.”
We made small talk for a while, catching up on what we had done in the last week.
“You sound like you’re crazy about Trace,” Isa observed.
“I think I am.”
“Then don’t let him go, Eva,” she said sternly.
“I have to, Isa. We have no future, and he doesn’t want me forever.”
She sighed into the phone. “In some cases, you have to take one day at a time. I didn’t think Robert and I had a future either. But one day we realized that we didn’t want to be apart. It didn’t happen overnight. Sometimes you need to be open to letting things grow naturally.”
With Trace, I wasn’t sure things hadn’t already grown into a jungle for me. “He’s a billionaire, and I’m a woman who has been to prison. What kind of crazy combination is that?”
“Robert’s rich, and I’m a girl from the wrong side of the tracks,” Isa reminded me.
“But you bettered yourself—”
“Just as you will. Be patient, Eva. Give yourself a break. Trace would be lucky to have you. There aren’t many women who aren’t going to care only about his money.”
“His money doesn’t matter,” I admitted. “It’s just…him.”
“Then go after what you want. Lord knows you’re stubborn enough. You lived through your childhood and a bad start as an adult. You deserve some happy time.”
We talked a little longer, then solidified our plans to meet up after the holidays. After we hung up, I thought about the conversation, wondering if I needed to be bold and just live in the moment for a change.
Go. Find him. Take whatever pleasure you can get for right now. Enjoy the fantasy, because reality will crash down on you all too soon.
I wasn’t a live-for-today kind of woman. But I’d planned my future once, and all of those dreams had never happened. Maybe I should learn how to live in the moment, seize what I wanted.
Right now, what I needed was Trace.
I wondered if he still wanted me, but I was pretty certain our attraction was mutually hot. The tension arched between us every time we were together, and it was getting to both of us. My body clamored for satisfaction, and I wouldn’t be satiated without him.
Quietly, I moved through the house, finding my way to his room in the near-darkness. There were a few nighttime lights on, but most of the house was dark.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered to myself as I arrived at Trace’s bedroom door.
Oh yes, I could do it. I wanted to do it. I needed to be close to Trace right now, and if I had to expose my need to him to get my wish, I didn’t give a damn.
I turned the handle and pushed open the door, relieved to find it open. His shutters weren’t closed, and the moonlight illuminated his sleeping form as I walked closer to the bed.
God, he was beautiful. On his back, the sheet and comforter down to his waist, my core clenched ferociously as I got a glimpse of Trace’s sculpted chest. He looked more relaxed in sleep, but just as hot as he ever did. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, and I had to clench my fist to keep from reaching to smooth it back into place. He looked like a perfectly sculpted statue without a single blemish, and my heart nearly rocketed out of my chest.
I looked away from him, unable to hide my desire or my carnal thoughts. I wanted Trace Walker in a confusing and very elemental way. There was no denying it. I wanted desperately to touch him, let him claim me the same way he had a few weeks ago.
Before I had a chance to think, I slid into the bed beside him.
“Eva?”
I had to answer. “Yes.”
“Why are you here? Is something wrong?” His voice was low, masculine, and husky with sleep, but his concern was immediately present.
“We have to sleep together eventually. I just thought…” Oh hell, I didn’t know what I was thinking.
My body was imprisoned quickly as he said, “I can’t have you in my bed and not fuck you, Eva. It’s not possible.”
“I can’t be here and not want you to,” I admitted in a tremulous voice.
Trace had rolled on top of me, holding me captive with his body weight. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I could make out his tortured expression.
“I have no business being with you, Eva. But since you’ve come here, I doubt I can send you away. I want you too damn much.”
It sounded like a threat, but I took it as I wanted to. He wanted me, and that’s all I cared about. “I want to be with you, Trac
e. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“I don’t suppose you’re on birth control.”
“Actually, I am. I have been since I was sixteen.” The last thing I needed was an unwanted pregnancy, and even though I was comfortable there, I had lived in a rough neighborhood. I’d been put on the pill as much for protection against the unthinkable as I did it to help with my irregular periods.
“Christ! I hope you trust me, that you know I wouldn’t take you without a condom unless you believe I’ve been checked and I’m clean.”
“I believe you,” I replied breathlessly. I trusted him utterly and completely.
“Good. Because I don’t have condoms. I figured if I got rid of them all, I wouldn’t be tempted to fuck you again. But now you’re out of luck,” he warned.
I smiled into the darkness and wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers stroking his neck. “Maybe I wanted to seal my own doom,” I teased.
“You succeeded then.” He swooped down and covered my mouth with his.
Chapter Eleven
Eva
I wallowed in the scent and feel of Trace, refusing to feel guilty because I was seizing what I wanted. I knew I wouldn’t regret being with him. In fact, I wanted to or I wouldn’t be here. I’d been a virgin for way too long, and I was eager to find the high only Trace could give me.
Our tongues dueled and entwined, and I could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest above me as he rested his body on mine. I hated the simple cotton nightgown that separated our bodies, and I wanted it gone. My breasts were hard and sensitive, and all I wanted was to feel Trace skin-to-skin.
His wild mouth consumed me, and I gave back exactly what he was giving me: passion, desperation, the incredible need to join our bodies together to sooth the aching need in my body and soul.
Finally, he released my lips and trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive skin of my neck.