Cara
“I can explain it to you, but I can’t understand it for you.”
~ Dolly Briggs
“We need to talk,” I blurted out.
I stood still as he stared at me, his face unreadable. My hands and my lips began tingling as I waited for him to make his next move, and I realized I was holding my breath.
“Okay.” He nodded and extended his hand to the small couch against my large picture window.
I exhaled as I made my way to sit down. I’d never been so thankful for having a small house before in my life. If it had taken more than two steps to get to the sofa, I would have collapsed on my shaky legs.
In a surprising move, Trace did not sit beside me on the couch. He instead took his seat in the oversized reading chair catty-cornered to the couch. My expression must have revealed my puzzlement, because he answered my silent question.
“If we’re going to talk, it’s safer if I sit over here.”
Oh. Oh my.
The thought that Trace would have a hard time keeping his hands to himself while sitting beside me sent a shiver of confidence dancing through me. I’d never thought that I would inspire the burning lust shining in his golden gaze in anyone, much less him.
Then again, maybe that was the look all guys had when they were about to have sex. That was a very real possibility, one I couldn’t confirm or discredit thanks to my lack of experience.
Not that we were about to have sex. I mean, I wanted to but…
“If you want to talk, talk. But stop whatever you’re thinking in that pretty head of yours.”
“What do you mean… I wasn’t thinkin—”
His body looked relaxed as he sat in the chair, but his tone and expression were telling a very different story. “Yes. You were. Whenever you’re worrying about something, you bite the inside of your left cheek.”
I did? He’d said the same thing last night, but I’d been too busy trying to deal with his half naked body being inches away from me.
Automatically my tongue ran over my inner cheek, and I felt tiny ridges where the soft tissue had been between my teeth.
“How did you—”
“Like I said, Cara, I know you.”
My body interpreted his words as a promise rather than a statement. Sweet pleasure spiraled through me as I tried to process how it was possible that Trace knew me better than I knew myself.
“You wanted to talk,” he encouraged with a gentle authority.
“Right.” Shifting on the cushion so I was facing him head on, I placed my hands on my thighs and sat up straighter. “I just… I’ve been thinking about…everything…and I don’t think this will work.”
I paused, thinking that he would either agree or dispute my claim. He did neither though. His caramel stare remained neutral as he kept whatever he was thinking to himself. I was used to Trace talking, joking around, making everyone in any room feel included and comfortable. I was not used to the silent, measured intensity that was currently radiating from him like a furnace on a winter day.
As confusing as this new side of his personality was, it was equally a huge turn-on.
Not knowing what else to do, I began listing the reasons this wouldn’t work. “If anything happened between us…it would just be… I mean, it’s just too small of a town and someone will find out something—”
“Cara.”
My name had never sounded sexual before, but out of Trace’s mouth, it was downright sinful. The raspy tone of his voice washed over me like an ocean breeze.
“Do you want me to be your first?”
His point-blank question caused an unintelligible squeak to catch in my throat. I tried to swallow but found it difficult since my mouth had gone bone-dry. Boy, he sure knew how to get to the heart of a matter.
Did I want Trace to be my first? That question was the easiest I’d ever answered.
I licked my lips in an attempt to cultivate some much-needed moisture, and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to speak. So, instead of verbally answering him, I nodded.
“I need to hear you say it,” he rasped.
Right. Come on, voice! “Yes,” I managed to whisper.
“Yes, what?” he growled softly.
Oh boy. He was actually going to make me say it. Out loud.
In that moment, a clarity I hadn’t felt, and had maybe been waiting for, materialized within me. What had seemed cloudy and confusing now seemed clear and simple.
This was what I wanted, to be with Trace. Even if it was only one night, I would take it. With my path clearly chosen, I gathered all the confidence that I could, took a fortifying breath, and said, “Yes. I want you to be my first.”
The strength of my voice shocked me.
“Tell me again,” he commanded gently. His chest was rising and falling in shorter breaths, and his eyes were sharper.
I liked that I was affecting him. This time, I didn’t need to gather any confidence. I had plenty of it bubbling to the surface as I repeated slowly, “Yes. I want you to be my first, Trace.”
He inhaled slowly through his nose as his fingers tightened around the arms of the chair and a vein popped out on the side of his neck. The sexy protrusion made my mouth, which had been dry just a moment before, water like Niagara Falls. I had the strongest urge to straddle his lap and lick the vein from the base of his collarbone to where it disappeared right below his ear.
Since this was the first time I’d ever had that impulse, I wasn’t sure if that was even allowed. If it was weird or if he would like it. So, instead of acting on my desire, I remained seated on the couch, hoping he would take the lead. Or was I supposed to take the lead? I’d spent so much time thinking about what having sex would be like and now that the possibility of it happening was mine for the taking, I realized I was completely out of my depth.
“Before anything happens, I need to know what your experience is.” Trace’s voice snapped me out of my spinning thoughts.
I knew he knew the answer to that, but I wasn’t sure if he was asking me because he wanted to hear me say it. If it was some kind of foreplay, so I went with it.
“I’m a virgin.”
When a small, amused smile tilted on his mouth, it was clear I had miscalculated.
“There’s a lot you can do and still be a virgin,” he said. “I need to know what else you’ve done.”
“Oh.” My eyes widened slightly. That made more sense. “Um…nothing.”
“Nothing?” he repeated in disbelief.
I shifted nervously. “I mean, I’ve kissed before.”
“I know. You kissed me.”
“You remember that?”
Trace had been my first kiss, but I knew that I wasn’t his. And in the years since, he’d spent a lot of time k-i-s-s-i-n-g-ing, so I’d never imagined he would remember our brief lip-lock.
“Of course I remember,” he spoke reverently. His statement held a gravity I wasn’t sure I understood. He opened his mouth, and I hoped that his follow-up would give me some insight, but instead of speaking, he closed it.
I got the impression that he wanted to say more, but when he didn’t, I figured I should say something. “Then you know how much experience I’ve had.”
His face blanked. Then he shook his head slightly. “I’m the only person you’ve kissed?”
“No,” I corrected him. “I kissed two guys in college.”
“Oh.”
If I wasn’t mistaken, disappointment had tinged that single syllable. Had he really wanted to be the only person I’d ever kissed? Why would he care? I was so out of my depth.
“Okay, kissing. What else?”
“That’s it,” I said. “Just kissing.”
And not even the good kind. No way was I going to divulge that little tidbit though.
Any trace of disappointment on his face dissolved. “No one’s ever touched you?”
“No.” I stared into his light-brown eyes and waited for a bout of shyness or embarrassment to rush through
me, but I was only filled with all-consuming need.
He stood. “Come here.”
I took in a shuddering breath as I rose to my feet. With each step, my heart pounded harder. When I was standing directly in front of him, he placed his thumb under my chin and tilted my head up.
He searched my face as his fingers traced my jaw. I had no idea what he was trying to discover, but as long as he kept touching me, he could continue his visual scavenger hunt forever.
“You really have no idea how beautiful you are.”
It wasn’t a question, so I remained silent. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the feeling of his work-roughened fingers trailing against my skin. Need unlike I’d ever felt before began building inside me. I whimpered at the growing sensation, and the next thing I knew, Trace’s lips were covering mine. I sucked in a sharp gasp at the unexpected contact.
With one hand, his fingers threaded through my hair, while the other wrapped around my waist and pulled my body flush against his. My hands flew to his shoulders, and I held on as my entire being melted into him. I tried to anchor myself to him as his soft lips brushed back and forth against mine. I sighed as he pulled my bottom lip between his, and the tip of his wet tongue slid along it. Then he repeated the motion on my top lip.
When his tongue slipped into my mouth and over mine, the intimate contact sang through my veins. Trace’s fingers dug into the base of my neck, and I gave myself over to the power of the kiss. His lips roughly covered mine as I lost myself in the velvety wetness of his masterful tongue. Currents of need ran through me as my hands gripped his shoulders tighter.
One hand held my neck in place and the other roamed up and down my back. Over my hip, my arms, my backside. It felt so amazing to be in his arms, to have his hands on me, his mouth on mine. But, as good as it was, it only served to amplify the growing desire raging inside me.
I wanted more. More kissing. More touching. More Trace.
A whimper fell from my lips as my body writhed against his, trying to get closer. He was so large, so solid, so strong. Molding myself to him wasn’t enough; I wanted to absorb him.
After kissing me into a frenzy, Trace pulled his mouth from mine and took one step back. His breaths were ragged, and I heard a groan of disappointment. At first, I’d thought it had been from him, but the grin on his face led me to believe that it had come from me.
Oops.
“Are you wearing them?” he asked as his fingers gripped my hips.
My lust-addled brain took a minute to catch up to what he was talking about. But, once it did, I nodded a little too enthusiastically. It looked like my lucky panties were finally going to live up to their name.
Chapter 22
Trace
“It was sweeter than stolen honey.”
~ Dolly Briggs
Fuck. I inwardly moaned as the girl of my dreams confirmed that she was wearing the panties I’d instructed her to wear. This girl was going to kill me. Cara’s wide-eyed innocence combined with her swollen, pouty, thoroughly kissed lips could’a very easily been the death of me.
As badly as I wanted to strip her naked and take her right there, I couldn’t do that. Yet. I needed to go slow, and Cara needed to be an active participant. So, pushing down every primal instinct to lift her dress over her head and lay her down on the couch, I dropped my hands from her waist.
“Show me.”
Her flushed cheeks grew an even deeper shade of crimson. Uncertainty shone in her big, blue eyes. This was pushing her out of her comfort zone. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if I was pushing her too far too fast. But, when she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and tugged at the hem of her dress, every coherent thought evaporated from my head.
She tugged her dress up, just far enough that the white lace V with a cherry in the middle peeked out. My dick jumped against my zipper, not on board with the take-things-slow game plan.
“So pretty,” I rasped.
She dropped her dress. Showing me had taken a lot for her. If all she’d ever done was kiss, then there was no way we could have sex tonight, no matter how badly my dick was straining against my zipper. We might not be able to go all the way, but like I’d told Cara, there was a lot we could do without having sex.
In a swift move, I picked her up to carry her like a groom carries his bride. As I stalked down the hall towards her bedroom, she squealed and snuggled her face into the crook of my neck. All we’d done was kiss and this was already more intimate, more real, than any other encounter I’d ever had.
Everything with Cara was more. More erotic. More fulfilling. More consuming. I’d always wondered if I would ever get enough of her, and after just one kiss, I had my answer: No.
When we stepped into her room, I noticed that the curtains were drawn. The setting sun filtered through the thin material covering her windows, casting an ethereal glow throughout the room. I couldn’t have asked for more perfect, more romantic lighting.
After laying her on the bed, I stood and removed my shirt but left my jeans on. Her eyes widened as she sighed softly. My heart clenched as I took her in. Her soft, blonde hair fanned over her pillow, her aqua-blue eyes were glossy with lust, and her lips were full and puffy from our kiss. She was perfection.
Unable to resist, I lowered myself over her and covered her mouth with mine. She immediately opened to me, and I swept my tongue inside. The moment her tongue met mine, a jolt of arousal shot through me and a moan ripped from my chest. As our kiss deepened, I ran my hand down her body and lifted her leg up as I settled between her legs.
She gasped as my straining erection rocked against her core. I wanted her to feel every inch of how badly I wanted her. The need and desire only she inspired in me. My tongue continued exploring her mouth in a long, drugging kiss as I rolled my hips against her. Before long, she was moving along with me. Our bodies engaged in a sensual dance, and beads of sweat broke out on my back. Instinctively, we synced together in an erotic rhythm that had my shaft pulsing heavily.
When Cara’s fingers dug into my back and her thighs trembled against me, I knew she might be even closer to going up and over the edge than I was. Keeping our pace steady, I moved one hand and up over the thin material of her dress, and covered her breast. Through the cotton, her nipple knotted beneath my touch, and as I increased the pressure of my hips, I squeezed her pebble-hard bud between my thumb and my forefinger. Her hips jerked at the contact.
Knowing she was close, I continued kissing her perfect mouth, tweaking her heaving breast, and rocking my member against her core until she broke our kiss, crying out as she convulsed beneath me. I brought my attention to her exposed neck, sucking and licking and peppering kisses along her soft skin until her arms dropped beside me and the last spasm of aftershock rolled through her.
Rising up on my elbow, I looked down and found her eyes closed and her mouth open as she caught her breath. I brushed away stray hairs that had fallen in her face and softly pressed my mouth to her forehead as she floated back to reality.
“Wow,” she whispered. “What was that?”
Lifting my head so that I was looking down at her, I smiled at the look of awe on her beautiful face, her blue eyes shining up at me. “That was dry-humping.”
“Oh.” She grinned, pure joy shining from her face. “That was…fun.”
“If you think that was fun, just wait.” I tried to hide the overwhelming sense of pride that filled me. I was the man who had the privilege of introducing her to fun.
I pushed to a seated position and leaned back on my knees. When I wrapped my fingers around the soft skin of her knee, she shivered. Then I slowly ran my hands down her thighs. Like a physical touch, I felt heat from her eyes roaming my chest and arms as I pushed her dress over her hips, revealing her white lace panties. My dick throbbed painfully against its denim barrier as I traced my finger over the damp material covering her core. The evidence of her climax had a ravenous craving unlike I’d ever felt before raging inside me.
Ne
eding to see more of her, all of her, I tugged her dress up her torso. When I got the bunched material to her chest, Cara’s arms flew up to cover herself, stopping my efforts.
I froze, staring down at her to get some clue as to what was going on. The lovely pink hue of the afterglow of orgasm that had burned her cheeks just moments ago drained away, leaving her skin pale.
“What’s wrong?” I lifted my hands so she could see that I wasn’t touching her.
Fear gripped my chest as questions swam in my mind. Had I hurt her? Was I going too fast? Did I scare her?
“Um…” She gulped. “I have a scar.”
I waited, sure she was going to tell me that I’d irritated it or it was sensitive. That I needed to steer clear of it so that I didn’t hurt her.
When she didn’t continue, I prompted, “Did I hurt you?”
“What?” Her brow furrowed, and she shook her head slightly. “No. You didn’t… It doesn’t hurt.”
“Okay.” I had no idea what to ask or say next.
“I just…” she started to explain, but her words got clogged with emotion. Her lips pursed as her eyes began filling with moisture.
“It’s okay,” I assured her as I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her up onto my lap, cradling her in a warm embrace.
Her soft curves molded against me as I ran my hand up and down her back. She sniffled, and my heart broke into a million tiny pieces. The last thing I wanted was for this to be something she regretted, something that upset her. Her reaction just validated my instinct to take things slow.
“You don’t have to say anything. We can stop.”
“No.” She firmly pushed off my chest and stared at me, determination brimming in her baby blues. “I just… I was just telling you so that you weren’t… So that you would know.”
Oh shit. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that she might be self-conscious about her scar. How could I claim to know this woman and have missed that? I quickly pulled my head from my ass, and although I needed to tread carefully, I decided to redirect this conversation.
“Well, then it’s only fair to tell you I have a scar too,” I said solemnly as I lifted my arm to reveal the three-inch scar over the side of my ribs.
Convincing Cara (Wishing Well, Texas Book 2) Page 14