by Debra Webb
It was finally over.
She’d done it, made a command decision. She would not bow to Trace Walker’s whims any longer. Claire had gotten up bright and early that morning. She cleaned her apartment from one end to the other. And suddenly, while scrubbing the bathtub, she’d made up her mind. Trace’s little game of revenge was over. He’d had his fun. She had showered and changed, then driven to his house, marched into her office—box in hand—and packed up. She’d penned a concise note that merely read, “I quit.” Gentry had hovered anxiously nearby. Whether from concern she would take something that didn’t belong to her or because he feared Trace’s retaliation for her actions, she didn’t know.
Nor did she care. It was over...
So why the hell did she feel this way?
She wasn’t worried about getting fired. Deep down she didn’t believe for a minute Trace would do that, not now after she’d gotten to know him better. He worked at portraying a man who was heartless, but she knew he wasn’t that way inside—where it counted. Oh, he’d probably raise a little hell, steam and sputter a few heated threats to Jim or Ron. But he wouldn’t fire her.
Besides, she’d had no choice but to take this drastic measure. Claire plopped the glass back on the table, closed her eyes, and blew out a heavy breath. She couldn’t stop thinking about him... wanting him. No matter how hard she tried, the memory of Trace just wouldn’t let go. The intensity in his eyes... the half smile that tilted his lips on those rare occasions when he allowed himself to smile. She closed her eyes and recalled the feel of his strong arms around her, the smoky sound of his voice. The earthy, masculine scent that belonged only to him.
Claire sighed again.
They really had nothing in common other than an intense physical attraction. Trace had no respect for her work and thought nothing else existed except his. Claire loved parties and traveling, discovering new places and things. He hated socializing and hardly ever left his house. He was as reclusive as she was outgoing.
Even if he wanted a relationship with her—which he didn’t—it would never work.
Never.
Claire shook her head. How could this have happened to her? How could she feel like this about the man who had turned her professional life upside down two weeks ago? A man arrogant enough to buy a frigging television station simply to prove a point.
Trace Walker was just another paragraph in the history of country music known by anyone associated with the business. Like most women her age, Claire had known a little about him before the report she’d done. Even remembered thinking he was so cool when she was sixteen. Well, maybe a tad more than cool. But that was ancient history.
Only one month ago, Trace Walker had been nothing more than a name on a piece of paper that listed possibilities for her “Fallen Stars” series. A fleeting recollection of startling blue eyes and coal black hair and the quickening of her heart at that memory had been the only influencing factor between his name and several others.
How had things changed so rapidly? How had Trace Walker found his way so deeply into her heart? Unwillingly at that. Why did she care, beyond basic human compassion, about this man?
Why did she want him so? She wished it were nothing more than that age old concept of wanting what one couldn’t have but she recognized it was not that simple.
Her career was just taking off—she didn’t need this kind of complication. She had to get it through her head that Trace Walker did not want her. Hadn’t he said so himself?
Three sharp raps at her door startled Claire from her disturbing reverie. She stood on shaky legs. The three glasses of wine, downed in quick succession, had gone straight to her head. She steadied herself, finger combed her hair, then made her way to the door as someone pounded on it yet again.
“I’m coming!” Claire paused at the door and composed herself. As an afterthought, she tiptoed and peeked through the peephole. Trace. Damn. And he looked mad as hell. She cringed. And she looked like hell.
Sobering instantly, she moistened her suddenly dry lips. She figured she’d have to face him sooner or later. She had just hoped it would be later. The door rattled again beneath his pounding blows and she jumped, barely covered her mouth in time to hold back the yelp. After a deep breath, she removed the security chain, unlocked the door and pulled it open.
“Hello, Mr. Walker.” She manufactured a smile.
“We need to talk.” He brushed past her and stormed into the middle of her living room.
“Won’t you come in?” She shook her head as she closed the door. The man was incredibly arrogant, totally self-absorbed. Her courage shored up by her irritation, she folded her arms over her chest and strode to her coffee table. She poured herself another glass of wine. “Would you like something to drink, Mr. Walker?” A little more liquid courage couldn’t hurt.
“No.”
Ignoring his obviously foul mood, she picked up her glass and took a long swallow. She licked the wine from her lips and leveled her gaze on his. “What is it you want?”
He glanced at the box on the table. “I found your letter of resignation,” he said in that low, deceptively calm voice of his. Fire radiated from his blue eyes and tension vibrated from his stiff posture, belying his tone.
Oh, he was livid. Claire downed the rest of her wine and deposited the glass on the table. “That’s right. I refuse to participate in this ridiculous charade a moment longer.”
He lifted one skeptical eyebrow and cocked his handsome head. “The last time I looked at your contract I was the one calling the shots.”
Anger overriding her good judgment, Claire stepped closer to him and glared into his haughty gaze. “You don’t own me, Trace Walker. You can’t make me do anything. The only thing you have the power to do is fire me from Heart Beat.”
He took a challenging step closer. “Is that what you want me to do?”
“You know it’s not.”
Something in his expression changed, but Claire couldn’t quite identify the emotion ruling now. He leaned even closer, a muscle tightened in his jaw. “You started all this, and now you just want to walk away.”
Claire blinked, startled by his words. He’d nailed her with that one. She had gone into his room that night... her actions in Dallas had started this. Her heart pounded harder with his nearness. Between the wine and his enticing scent, she felt lightheaded, she couldn’t reason. “I think you should leave now. I don’t believe we have anything further to discuss.” She couldn’t do this.
“Fine, so we won’t talk.”
Disappointment flooded her. Was he going to give up that easily?
Instead of walking away as she’d expected, he grabbed her and pulled her hard against him. Before she could protest, he took her mouth with his own.
Everything else ceased to exist as she sank deeper and deeper into the spiraling sensation of his kiss. His hard, hungry mouth softened as the intensity of his need heightened. The desperation in his arms around her and the vibrating tension in his body proved evidence enough for Claire to understand she wasn’t in this alone. Her arms wound around his neck, fingers threading into his thick, silky hair. How she had wanted this. Needed this.
“Claire,” he murmured as he pulled back and looked deeply into her eyes. The storm raging in his blue gaze tugged at the last shred of her self-control. “If you don’t want this, tell me to stop now—before it’s too late.” Hesitance and doubt flashed across the storm in his eyes.
“Don’t stop, Trace,” she whispered and lifted her mouth to his once more.
He kissed her hard, then harder still. Desire blazed inside her, hot and out of control. His hands seemed to be all over her at once, sure and demanding. Cupping her breasts, sliding down her back. He lifted her hips against him and then released. Lifted and released, rocking again and again until Claire thought she would lose her mind with want. Each slow, easy movement sent a thousand sensations building toward a simultaneous explosion.
He mimicked the movement with h
is tongue. Moving in and out of her mouth. Touching, teasing, filling. And then he lifted her hips higher, more firmly against the solid evidence of his own need. Claire moaned with intensifying pleasure and locked her legs around his lean waist. She pressed the heat between her thighs more fully against his arousal. His answering groan echoed inside her mouth.
“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked, his breath quick and uneven as he raked her with his smoldering gaze.
“That way,” Claire said breathlessly as she gestured toward the hall. “On the right.” She tightened her hold on him as he placed a gentle kiss on the pulse she felt beating rapidly at the base of her throat. “Hurry, Trace,” she urged.
His blue gaze connected with hers and he smiled. One of those insanely sexy smiles that sent the room spinning around her. His strong arms cradled her securely as he carried her to her bedroom door. Just inside the doorway, he paused. Even in the shadowy light from the single lamp on the bedside table, Claire could see the renewed hesitance in his eyes.
“Are you sure about this, Claire?” His voice rumbled thick and husky from his chest. “I can’t offer you anything but tonight. I can’t give you the kind of future you surely want.”
His body told a different story. Claire could feel how desperately he wanted her. His arms, though strong and sure around her, shook ever so slightly with the strength of his need. His heart pounded in his chest and his mouth hovered, waiting, yearning, to mate with hers. That kind of hunger would never be satisfied with one night of passion. He stood still as stone, waiting patiently for her decision. Claire’s desire sung through her veins, the rhythmic need only increasing at the sweetness of his warning.
How she wanted this man.
Not just his fabulous body, either. She wanted his mind, his heart, and his soul. Claire wanted to hear her name on his lips when release claimed him. Wanted him to look at her the tender way he was looking at her right now for the rest of her life.
She lifted her chin and kissed his waiting mouth. Tentatively, at first, a feathery brushing of her lips over his. But when his body contracted in response, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him as if tomorrow might never come. As if she might never again be held by Trace Walker. Claire drank in his special taste and savored it on her tongue. She drew in a long breath, filling her senses with only him and the wonderfully masculine scent that belonged exclusively to this man.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he whispered against her lips. With that said, he took the few, final steps to Claire’s bed.
She slid her legs slowly down his hard, muscular thighs until her feet settled on the floor. She pulled her mouth from his, leaving her lips craving more of his taste. The longing she saw in his eyes at that moment magnified the incredible ache building inside her. He tugged off his boots and tossed them aside while she kicked off her fluffy slippers.
His hands trembling with the same urgency driving her, he reached for the buttons of her blouse, but Claire stopped him. She pressed one finger to his lips, halting his protests. With exacting slowness, she loosened the two buttons of his shirt. Slowly, she helped him pull it over his head and off, exposing the rippling muscles of his broad chest. Lord, how she’d dreamed of this every night since Dallas.
Claire touched him. The room tilted and heat churned madly inside her. She slid her hands over his smooth, tanned skin. Trace drew in a sharp breath as she teased one taut nipple with her tongue. His taste exploded in her mouth and suddenly she couldn’t get enough. She wanted to kiss him all over.
His arms went around her, and again she pushed them away. “Claire,” he groaned.
She hushed him with a quick kiss, then stepped back and simply stared at him for a long moment.
He was absolutely perfect.
She moved behind him and placed a kiss on one wide shoulder as she trailed her fingers over his strong back. He shivered when she reached around his waist to unfasten his jeans. First the belt, then the snap, and then the metal on metal sound of his zipper as she lowered it. Feeling bold, she reached inside and cradled his heavy arousal.
“You’re killing me,” he choked out.
Claire smiled, feeling empowered that her touch could make this big guy shudder with need. She’d never been this adventurous before. Maybe it was the wine... or maybe the man. She pushed his jeans and shorts over his hips, down his long legs, and off. Whatever drove her, she wanted more. She showered him with kiss after kiss as she made her way back up his long legs, his tight butt, and his strong back. His arms hung at his sides, his fists clenched. When she moved back in front of him and his eyes fluttered open, Claire thought she would die on the spot. Her mouth went dry and her chest constricted as her gaze traveled slowly from the powerful passion in his eyes, down and over his magnificent, completely nude body.
“I need to touch you, Claire,” he whispered, his voice harsh. “Now.”
If he only knew how very much she wanted him to touch her. The need almost outweighed the natural reflex to breathe. He reached out to her and Claire retreated a step. She smiled wickedly and began unbuttoning her blouse, slowly.
Very, very slowly.
His gaze followed her every move. The blue cotton blouse floated to the floor like a cloud. She slid her jeans down her legs. Trace took a breath, let it go as his gaze traveled up the length of her.
The lacy, skin-tone bra went next... then the French-cut bikinis.
Claire dragged both hands through her hair, smoothing it and allowing it to fall over her shoulders. The long strands whispered across her skin and tickled the erect tips of her breasts.
Trace’s gaze locked on hers, and Claire knew she could wait on longer. Every part of her that made her a woman cried out to be taken by the man waiting before her. Never before had the thought of making love with a man felt more right than it did now... with Trace.
At that moment, before he even touched her, Claire knew deep in her heart that he was the one.
The only one. As crazy as that sounded.
She took Trace’s hand in hers and pressed it to her breast. Though his fragile hold on control was more than obvious, his touch was gentle and unhurried. Claire shivered at his gentleness and the awed expression he wore. He eased closer, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her with such tenderness, tears welled in her eyes. When his gaze again met hers, Claire’s heart ached. The hesitance was back, stronger than ever.
“You are so beautiful,” he said softly, pain surfacing briefly in his steady gaze. Before Claire could manage a response or even attempt to understand, he swept her into his arms and placed her gently on the bed. He brushed a light kiss on her forehead and left her there. Panic gripped Claire until she realized that he hadn’t gone far. With his back to her, she couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, but when she heard the soft sound of the foil as it ripped, she knew. Protection had been the furthest thing from her mind. His thoughtfulness tugged at her heart.
How would she ever learn to live without him when this was over? And it would be over. No matter how strong his feelings for her—Trace Walker had told her he couldn’t offer her a future. He didn’t want permanence... didn’t want ties. No complications... no connections. All he wanted was tonight.
Claire felt the bed shift and she blinked back the tears. He smiled down at her before kissing her trembling lips. With unending patience, he loved her with his mouth and his hands. He left no part of her untouched, unkissed. He wordlessly told her over and over how much he wanted her... how beautiful she was... how perfect. And Claire forgot that, like him, his promises would be gone come morning.
Trace slid a hand between her thighs and stoked the fire he’d started. Higher and higher the flames built. His mouth covered first one breast, and then the other... teasing, lavishing, suckling. “Trace.” She pulled his body nearer to hers, wanting his weight on her... wanting him inside her.
Trace leveled himself between her thighs and Claire instinctively intertwined her legs with his, urging him closer and
arching to meet him. Now... now, she wanted him now. He held her hands in his as he touched her lips with his own. Never taking his eyes from her, he pushed inside her... inch by inch... heartbeat by heartbeat. Finally, buried deep inside her, he kissed her with heart-wrenching need.
For a long time, they lay still, looking into each other’s eyes... glorifying in the sensation of simply being joined. And then, almost imperceptibly at first, he began to move. The taste of his lips and the scent of their lovemaking enveloped her. And then the world around her and within her flew apart. Sensing her need, Trace thrust faster, harder. She matched his frenzied movements. It was as if she couldn’t catch up... couldn’t move quickly enough. Climax shuddered down on her, rocking her body hard. Spasm after spasm claimed her, culminating in the final, shuddering release.
Her name escaped his lips on a tormented groan when, in one final explosive thrust, Trace surrendered to his own release. His strong body rested on hers. He pressed his lips to her hair, her cheek. “Sweet, sweet Claire.” He kissed her softly, thoughtfully.
Flesh against flesh, slick with lovemaking, Claire held him tightly to her. A tremendous feeling of happiness and completeness rushed over her as she responded to the promise of his lips. Never had she been loved so thoroughly, so sweetly. But they had no future together. Her heart ached. No matter how wonderful their lovemaking had been, it was only temporary to Trace.
His tender words and gentle touch only deepened the crack in Claire’s heart.
~*~
Trace watched Claire sleep. Thick chestnut tresses caressed her creamy skin. Skin he could still taste. He’d acquainted himself with every hollow and rise of her slender body. A mere sigh crossing those pink, bow-shaped lips would be provocation enough for him to awaken her with the renewed need already mounting inside him.