“I missed you.” The words shot out of my mouth like a cannon as I stared at her. I hadn’t meant to tell her that, and I hadn’t even known how true that statement was until I’d heard it out loud.
I had missed her. All day.
She glanced over her shoulder, a shy grin lifting on her clean face. “You just saw me last night.”
Actually, it had been ten hours and fourteen minutes since I’d snuck out of her bed to go to work, but that observation might have freaked her out. So I kept it to myself.
“Well, you’re very missable.” I stepped behind her and rested my hands on her hips as she stirred the sauce, incapable of waiting one more second to touch her, to kiss her. Nuzzling against her neck, I brushed my lips over her skin as I continued, “And kissable.”
She giggled and wiggled her hips against my hardening-by-the-second dick. I’d spent the night with her mostly naked body draped over mine after some serious foreplay the man downstairs had been sure going to lead to release. It hadn’t. But the pain and discomfort had been worth it. I would have happily walked around with a permanent hard-on if it meant spending the night with Cara’s panty-clad body covering mine.
“It’s ready,” she announced breathlessly as a timer dinged.
I retreated, giving her the space she needed to pull the garlic bread out of the oven. We worked together like a well-oiled machine, putting food in dishes and carrying them to the table. Cara talked a mile a minute, telling me about a story she’d turned in to her editor today, which was fashion-related. I was only half listening since most of the blood that normally took up residence in my brain had migrated to the southern region of my body.
We sat at her kitchen table and filled our plates. I waited for her to take a breath so I could tell her how beautiful she looked. This conversation was the verbal version of Frogger and I was waiting for a break in traffic to cross the street. That opportunity did not present itself before she’d uttered the words no guy wanted to hear.
“We need to talk.”
I lifted my gaze from my fork, spinning my noodles around in a circle. Her sapphire eyes were brimmed with anxiety, and the rambling she’d been doing was really because she was nervous.
“What’s wrong?” I wasn’t sure how we’d gone from whether or not skinny jeans were still in style to “we need to talk,” but now, I was all ears.
“Nothing…” Her voice wavered as her gaze shot down to her plate and she pushed her food around. “I just think that, if we are going to do this, we need to talk. You know, work out some…ground rules.”
“Ground rules?” I repeated slowly.
“Yeah. So we’re both on the same page. So we know what to expect.”
Confusion swam in my head like sharks in a tank filled with chum. Was she talking about our physical limits, like safe words? That didn’t make any sense, considering she was a virgin.
When I didn’t respond, she lifted her hands.
“Like, first, I think we should establish if this is just a one-night thing—”
“No,” I cut in. There was no way in hell once would be enough. In fact, I was pretty sure I would never get enough of Cara, but the last thing I wanted to do was go too fast and push her too hard for something she wasn’t ready for.
Cara’s eyes widened. The corners of her lips turned up, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she dipped her head. She did that when she was nervous, but I’d also noticed last night she did the same thing when she was shy about something. If I had been a betting man, I would have put my money on the latter.
“Okay… Um….okay. See? That’s what I mean.” She licked her lips, and my perma-erection jerked beneath my zipper. “We should have ground rules.”
My phone buzzed, but I ignored it. Nothing was more important than this conversation. So, instead of reaching in my pocket for my phone, I grabbed my large tumbler of ice water.
“All right. So, what other ground rules are you thinking about?”
Before I finished my question, another vibration sounded.
“Aren’t you going to check that?” she asked.
“No.” It was probably one of my brothers and they could wait.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she dropped it and returned to our ground rules conversation. “The only way this can happen is if no one knows. This town is just too small, and not only do I not feel like being the center of the gossip arena, but I also don’t want people…you know…getting the wrong idea…about us.”
“What’s the wrong idea?”
“You know. That we’re a, you know”—she lifted her hands in the air—“a real couple.”
“A real couple?” I deadpanned.
“Yes.” She sat up straighter, determination radiating off her. “I don’t want a relationship. You don’t do relationships. You and I both know what is going on between us, and honestly, it’s no one else’s business.”
“Even Harmony and Destiny?” From what I’d observed, the three amigos—or Charlie’s Angels, as they liked to refer to themselves—didn’t really have too many secrets from each other.
“Especially Harmony and Destiny!” she exclaimed.
I tried to comprehend how I felt about her being so insistent about keeping us a secret. Every other girl I’d dated, even casually, had wanted everyone and their brother to know we were seeing each other. They would post it on social media and tell anyone who would listen.
My reaction must have shown on my face, because Cara softened her tone as she explained, “All my life, people have known a lot more about my personal life than I wanted. This is just for me. I don’t want to share this, share you, with anyone.”
Well, shit. When she put it like that, how the hell was I supposed to argue?
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed again.
“Just check it.” She smiled encouragingly.
With a sigh, I pulled the device out of my pocket. I had two texts and a voicemail from Lizzy. Great.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Lizzy wants to hang out.” I turned my phone towards her so she could read the messages.
Instead of doing what any other girl would have and taking my phone so that she could see for herself, she kept her eyes trained on mine. “You can go if you want. I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”
“I’m not going anywhere.” My voice sounded much harsher than I’d meant it to. Hoping to smooth over my reaction, I grinned. “This is the only place I want to be. So, unless you kick my ass out, you’re stuck with me.”
“Okay.” She shrugged her left shoulder as if she weren’t completely convinced.
I turned off my phone and silence hung between us as we ate. I tried to read what was going on in her head, but I couldn’t.
Finally, I asked, “So, are those the only ground rules? Not a one-time thing and, like Vegas, what happens between us stays between us?”
She pursed her lips for a moment before blurting out, “One more thing. As long as we’re doing whatever we’re doing, I think we shouldn’t be doing that with other people.”
She looked at me with unsure eyes as she waited for my response. It boggled my mind that this girl really had no idea what she meant to me. That would be remedied soon.
“Are you proposing a monogamous affair, Miss McCord?”
One of my favorite blushes crept up on the fair skin of her cheek as she nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“Good. Because I don’t share,” I stated huskily.
A smile broke out on her face as she tucked her hair behind her ear. We spent the rest of dinner talking about work, our friends, movies, and music. The whole time, I kept thinking, This is it. This is what I want for the rest of my life. Spending nights exactly like this. Coming home to Cara, making her laugh, smile, and blush. This is exactly where I belong.
Chapter 25
Cara
“Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.”
~ Dol
ly Briggs
As I rested my head on Trace’s shoulder while he slept, I seized the opportunity to study his profile. Long, dark lashes outlined his closed eyes. His jaw line was sprinkled with just the right amount of stubble that had my hands itching to touch him. His full lips were slightly parted as he breathed in and out evenly. He looked so peaceful. So perfect.
When Trace had suggested a hangout session after dinner, I’d been equal parts disappointed, relieved, scared to death, and giddy as a school girl. If my emotional state had been a pie, it would have been split in four identical servings.
The slice of disappointment was mixed with the fact that, all day, I’d been wound so tight that I was sure I would have come apart after one touch from him. So, when Trace suggested watching TV and changed our sex forecast from possible virginity loss with a ninety-nine percent chance of orgasm to heavy snuggling, I couldn’t help but feel the loss.
On the flip side of the pie, my slice of relief’s ingredients included two cups of at-least-I-won’t-embarrass-myself mixed with three teaspoons of he’s-not-going-to-see-me-naked. As much as I wanted to no longer be a virgin, now that the possibility was not abstract, it was more overwhelming and emotional than I’d expected.
Next to relief was the helping of scared-to-death, which was baked with the fact that, since I was a little girl, I’d dreamed of this night. Exactly. Trace coming home from work. Me making dinner. Us snuggling on the couch and watching TV. Once I’d gotten sick, I was sure that was all it would ever be: a dream. But I was living it, and now that I was, I was afraid of what would happen when he wasn’t coming through my door, kissing my neck while I cooked, or smiling his bad-boy grin as he teased me about how cute I looked eating spaghetti. Now that my dream was a reality, what would happen when things went back to normal?
And, in opposition to that piece was the giddy-as-a-schoolgirl serving, because the night had been my dream come true. Not only had Trace been attentive and flirty all night, but we’d joked around, had fun, and easily picked out what show to binge-watch. He’d made me feel like no one else in this world existed. With just a look, a touch, or a word, he made me feel sexier than I’d ever known I could.
He listened to me. He saw me. He knew me.
To have his undivided attention was like having the sun shine on me, and I didn’t want to entertain the thought of how cold it would be back in the shadows once his attention turned to someone else.
In an attempt to shake that thought loose from the stronghold it seemed to have on my brain, I figured that it was best to go to bed. Trace had been out for the last forty minutes of the episode of House of Cards we were watching, and my plan was to grab him a blanket from the closet and then head off to my room for a night that I was sure would be filled with tossing and turning. How could it not be when Trace was just feet away from me?
As tempting as it was to snuggle in closer to him and spend another night safe and sound in his strong embrace, that would have been playing with fire. And chances were I would end up getting burned. First degree burns.
Against everything inside me screaming not to leave the comfort of Trace’s embrace, I somehow willed myself to pull away. I didn’t get far though. Before I even made it an inch, Trace’s hand on my hip flexed, clamping me in place.
I shot my gaze back to his face. His eyes were still closed, and his face looked just as serene as it had moments ago.
Was it just a reflex?
Slowly, I began rising, but I froze when he said, “Where are you going?”
This time when I looked back at him, his caramel eyes were at half-mast and staring right at me.
My heart was pounding like I’d just been caught doing something I shouldn’t have. Because of that, my voice was shaky as I explained, “I was going to go to bed.”
“Without me?” His extra-gravelly sleepy voice sent tremors rolling through me.
“You were sleeping, so I didn’t want to disturb you,” I said so breathlessly that I could have been a phone-sex operator.
“I wasn’t sleeping, just resting my eyes.” He tugged me even closer to him.
I couldn’t help the smile that broke out on my face. “Really? Do you always snore when you rest your eyes?”
His eyes widened. “I was snoring?”
“No. And you would know that if you really had just been resting your eyes,” I teased.
Amusement danced in his gaze as he raised one eyebrow and a small smirk lifted on his face. The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, with Trace hovering above me. The shock caused me to giggle. In our new position, I opened my legs and wrapped them around his body. When he settled against the apex of my thighs, I stopped laughing.
He was hard. Very hard. And on top of me.
Maybe the forecast was changing.
His gaze turned serious as he looked down at me. “You are so beautiful.”
I’d heard that guys said a lot of things just to say them when they were going to have sex, but when Trace told me that, it was really hard not to believe him. Our jagged breaths mingled as he rested his forehead against mine.
“I want to kiss you so bad right now.” He sounded pained, and all I wanted to do was relieve his suffering.
Tilting my head, I pressed my lips to his, and for a moment, he remained still. A brief flash of insecurity burst through me. I wondered if I’d done something wrong. If he wanted to kiss me, not the other way around. All of those doubts evaporated after a groan vibrated from his lips as he cupped the back of my head and deepened the kiss.
When our tongues met, a fire I did want to play with sparked in me. Heat flared like I’d never experienced as his masterful tongue slowly glided back and forth across mine. Every anxiety, every doubt, and every second thought in my consciousness disappeared under the tantalizing pull of Trace’s spine-tingling kiss.
I was like Oprah, and being kissed by Trace was my ultimate favorite thing. He stoked the flames of need burning in me with each languorous lick. I gripped his shoulders as I let myself fall down the rabbit hole to Wonderland. I had no idea what was in store for me, but now that all the insecurity I’d been battling was vapor, I wanted to explore this new land.
Last night had been amazing, and as much as I would have loved a repeat performance, I wanted more. I wanted to feel Trace inside me. When Trace’s mouth began kissing down my neck, I knew that this was my moment to express what I wanted to happen. But, with the lust fogging up my brain, I didn’t have the mental aptitude to execute that simple task.
“Trace, I don’t… I think…I want…”
He stilled, then lifted up so that he was gazing down at me, his eyes searching mine. “We can go slow, as slow as you need. I just want to kiss you. Please, Cara. Let me kiss you. Everything else can wait.”
If I had been on the fence about whether or not this night was the night, the desperation in Trace’s voice just to kiss me would have knocked me right over into the sexy-time yard.
This was another side of Trace I was not used to seeing: the vulnerable side. And it might have been the one I loved the most, because I was pretty sure most people didn’t see it.
I threaded my fingers through his hair as I explained, “I wasn’t stopping. I was trying to tell you that I want…”
Even though I had never been more certain of anything in my life, my heartrate still picked up speed like it was a snowball in an avalanche on Mt. Everest. Taking a deep breath, I tried again. “I don’t want to go slow. I love it when you kiss me, but I want more. I don’t want to wait for…” I took a much-needed breath, about to say another minute to feel you inside me when Trace spoke first.
“Are you about to quote Dawson’s Creek?” He tilted his head to the side, and his brow furrowed.
“What?” I had no idea what he was talking about. Yes, I loved Dawson’s Creek (Team Pacey!), but why would Trace have brought up my favorite show now?
“You know… ‘I don’t want to wait for our lives to be over.’”
I
couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of those words coming out of Trace’s mouth. “How do you know that?”
“Are you serious? You, Harm, and Destiny used to watch that show all. The. Time. I’ve probably heard that theme song a million times. It’s seared into my brain.”
The corners of my mouth lifted in an even wider smile at how adorable that was. “Oh, okay. Well, no. That’s not what I was about to say.”
My cheeks heated as I thought about what I had planned on saying. Trace was staring down at me, and I saw the second that he registered my deepening blush. A bad-boy grin—that made every tingle in my body multiply by a thousand—pulled on Trace’s magical mouth.
“I think I’m going to like what you were about to say,” he said.
The wicked glint in his eye helped give me the push to tell him what I wanted, but my voice was still a little wobbly. “I was just going to say that…last night was great. Amazing. But I want to… to feel you inside me.”
For several seconds, which seemed like an eternity, Trace didn’t say anything. He didn’t move a muscle. There was no hint of what he was thinking until he growled, “Say that again. The last part—say that again.”
My body surged with renewed lust. Who knew that someone’s asking you to repeat yourself could be such a turn-on? This time there was no wobble when I spoke.
“I want to feel you inside me.”
I squealed as he snatched me up and off the couch and carried me down towards my bedroom. As I held on, my arms encircling Trace’s neck, I closed my eyes and reminded myself to commit every second of this night to memory. I didn’t want to overthink this; I just wanted to be in the moment and experience everything to the fullest.
Instead of laying me on the bed like I’d expected, Trace set me on the floor. The second my feet hit the hardwood, he had my tank top up and over my head. I hadn’t even lowered my arms before he was pulling my shorts and my underwear down my legs. I gripped the rounded muscle of his shoulders as I stepped out of them.
Before I had the chance to feel any kind of shyness over my naked state, Trace peeled his shirt off and made quick work of his boots and his jeans. I watched, completely awestruck. He didn’t just have a good or sexy body; he had the kind of physique that inspired artists to carve marble. From his broad chest to the muscles that rippled down his arms and his abs, he was prime male perfection.
Convincing Cara (Wishing Well, Texas Book 2) Page 16