Beyond the Seduction

by M.A. Stacie

  Agreeing to call D, he waved goodbye to Kyran but never took his gaze from Shae’s. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, uncertain. Her hands were still clenched together at her stomach. She wore a dress. A cute fucking red thing that showed off her toned legs and had him calculating how fast he could have her up against the wall with the skirt of it shoved up to her waist. Another round with her wouldn’t hurt, would it? Maybe then she’d be flushed from his ever-horny system.

  “Hey,” he replied, greeting her. “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “Kate told me where you worked when her brother got your number for me.” Her gaze darted to the door. “I made sure everyone left before I came in. I . . . well, I wanted to talk to you. About a few things.”

  Looking around the empty bar, Trace cringed. The faint metallic tang of blood still hung in the air, barely masked by the eye-watering scent of the cleaning fluid. “Here?” Thinking twice, he reached out, snatching his keys off the bar, and cocked his head toward the door. “Come on, let’s go somewhere else.”

  Shae scuttled alongside him, waiting at his side while he locked up Metro. “Where to?”

  He pointed down the street. “Coffee? Or is it too late for that?”

  “Coffee’s fine,” she replied, falling into step with him as he started to walk again.

  Trace cleared his throat, a new level of awkwardness sprouting between them. On other occasions, the conversion had been natural, but now, there was something else floating in the air.

  “So um . . . how have you been?” she asked, wringing her hands.

  He hated that. Hated the faulty communication. Determined to alter the flow, he took hold of her hand, linking their fingers. “What’s wrong, Shae?”

  Her gaze snapped to his, her steps faltering. Tears swarmed those jade green depths, and Trace felt her sadness like a punch to the gut. “Shae?”

  One tear slipped free, rolling down her cheek. He swiped it away with his thumb, her skin trembling under his touch. She shouldn’t cry. Nothing should make her feel that sad.

  “It’s nothing. Just a horrendous few days.” Her breath stuttered as she gulped down more tears. “Do you ever feel swamped with being an adult? Like the pressure of the decisions you have to make will eventually squash you?”

  “I never used to,” he replied with total honesty. “I used to be pretty carefree—even as an adult. Over the last year that’s all changed. Now I know what you’re talking about.”

  “Do you ever just want to escape? Run away like when you were a kid?”

  Trace smirked, speaking before his head worked out what was going to come out. “Let’s do it—let’s run away.”

  Shae spluttered, another tear dropping free. “Be serious.”

  “I am, babe. Sorta.” Was he? Placing his hands on her shoulders, he grinned at her. “How about we run away for the night? It’s Sunday tomorrow, so no dance lessons?”

  Shae nodded.

  “No work for me either, so let’s get on the bike and be free for twenty-four hours.” He didn’t comprehend how much he wanted that freedom until he’d spoken the words out loud. Shae didn’t look convinced, and now that the plan had formed in his head, there was no way she was going to deny him. They were going to enjoy themselves. “Shae, don’t you dare say no.”

  “My mom . . . I have to . . .”

  “She’s a big girl now. Call her. Call her every hour if you have to, just come with me.” He shot her his best pleading look. “Please?”

  The corners of her lips twitched, alerting him that he was winning.

  “Wh-where will we go?”

  “Dunno. Does it matter? Maybe we could go down the coast, spend the night in some god-awful motel with a fucking rancid outside pool?”

  “Charming.”

  “You know it.” He swiped another tear away. “Come with me. Just for tonight.”

  “I’ve heard that one from you before.”

  “So why not again?” Pulling her closer, he placed his hands on her hips, thrilling at the way her watery eyes widened at the contact. “We worked that night. You were the perfect distraction for me. Let me do the same for you. Tit for tat.”

  He watched her waver, her eyes boring into his as she started to chew her bottom lip. “I s-still want to talk, though.”

  Trace shrugged. “We can talk—if that’s what you want. Or we can get raging drunk and sing some embarrassing shit on karaoke.”

  That elicited a laugh from her, the sound warming his insides.

  Tilting her head to the side, she asked, “What’s your song?”

  “ ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ every time, baby. Yours?”

  Shae shook her head. “Oh, I don’t do karaoke.”

  “Never?

  “Never.”

  Excited, Trace grabbed her hand and began to run toward his bike. “Then you’re in for a crazy-ass night.”

  Clinging to Trace while his bike rumbled underneath them, Shae asked herself for the hundredth time what she was doing. She lost all clear thinking around him. He warped her mind somehow. She’d gone to talk, and yet she’d ended up on the back of his bike, taking a road trip to God knows where.

  The spontaneity was thrilling, and it was so easy being caught up in it all. Nevertheless, she’d kept her head long enough to call her mom. She wasn’t prepared to return home to a repeat performance of the saucepan incident.

  It concerned her even though she reminded herself that there had been no other accidents or forgetfulness since then. And as Trace said, she was an adult.

  Taking one hand off the bars, Trace covered her own where they rested over his stomach. Nothing compared to the joy that rushed through her while riding with him. She forgot it all and followed his pace, swaying as he took corners too fast and gasping for breath when he braked too soon.

  She turned her head when Trace let go of her hand and pointed to the left.

  The sun had begun to rise. The small arch seemed to float from the water. It covered the deserted beach in a soft, orange glow. Shae had been so carried away with all the excitement she hadn’t noticed the night giving way to the dawn. “It’s beautiful,” she yelled, hoping he could hear her.

  Trace’s nod confirmed he had, and a moment later, he pulled to the side of the road, stopped the bike, and removed his helmet.

  She followed suit, praying her hair wasn’t too messy. “It’s stunning.”

  “Yup,” he agreed, leaning back into her. His head flopped onto her shoulder. “Not something you get to see every day.”

  Shae held her breath, taking in his profile when he closed his eyes. Stubble marred his jaw, giving him a scruffy appearance that she liked very much. His nose seemed a little crooked, as if it had been broken and reset. She hadn’t noticed the bump before, nor had she realized how long his lashes were. Women in salons all over the world paid good money for that kind of length.

  “You must be exhausted,” she said, watching as his eyes flickered open. “Let’s go and find that amazing motel you described earlier.”

  Trace snorted, clearly hearing her sarcasm. He licked his lips, his face so close to hers. A flutter began in her pelvis, and her body began to warm. Anticipation bubbled in her bloodstream, steadily building when his gaze met hers. She stared at him, the little silver flecks within the blue seeming to twinkle. “We should fine somewhere to stay. What time is your first lesson on Monday?”

  Shae blinked at the change, her body cooling when he sat back up. “Um, not until twelve.”

  “Are we okay to head back early tomorrow, then? I’ll get you back in time.”

  He lifted his helmet, pushing it back onto his head as she agreed. After placing her own back on, she gripped his jacket on either side of his hips and braced herself as he peeled off down the road.

  Shae watched the sunrise, feeling it warm the air as it rose into the sky. She didn’t notice the small main street until Trace pulled them to a stop and began to chuckle.

  “What?” Shae as
ked, tugging her helmet off again.

  Trace pointed to the motel sign. “I failed on the outdoor pool, babe. Sorry.” He wasn’t sorry at all.

  “Oh well, we can have a color TV.” She laughed. “I don’t have a bathing suit with me anyway.”

  “We could have done a bit of skinny dipping. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  Shae snorted, climbing off the bike and adjusting her backpack on her shoulders. “Gone, when it comes to filthy pools.”

  “Such a prude.” He kicked the stand on the bike before cocking his leg over and started to walk across the parking lot. “I’ll get us a room. You hang tight and don’t touch anything. You know, in case it gets you dirty.” He winked.

  Shae waited, cursing herself for not addressing the subject of the room. Trace had said a room—one—and she was more than fine with that. She would have liked to give him the opportunity to sleep alone, though. She didn’t want him pressured into sleeping with her. Just because she’d agreed to go on the road trip with him didn’t mean he wanted her that way anymore. They had agreed once.

  “We have a bed, baby.”

  She almost gave herself whiplash as she snapped her head over to stare at him. A key dangled from his hand, his brows wiggling, and she was aware of an older couple watching them from the sidewalk. Trace’s expression was one of amusement, but she couldn’t miss the glint. The glint that told her there was never a question of separate beds.

  “I’m hoping it has a functioning shower.”

  He slung his arm over her shoulder and started to move her to the door marked with an upside down four. “I doubt you’re getting a power shower.”

  “A trickle will do for me. I just need a wash. I stink.”

  Trace pushed his nose into the crook of her neck. “You smell wonderful to me.”

  Shae knocked her hip against his, shifting away from him while he unlocked the door. He entered, flipped on the light, and placed his helmet on the floor next to the door. Shae put hers down next to his.

  “It’s . . . um . . . very brown.”

  Trace pulled the drapes open, illuminating the brown. The action sent a disconcerting puff of dust into the air.

  “Maybe they tied the decor in with the beach? Brown, beige, orange.”

  “More like they tied it to the seventies.”

  Trace gave a loud belly laugh, receiving a few wall-pounding thumps from their next-door neighbor. “Guess I upset someone.”

  Removing her jacket, Shae dumped it over her backpack on the floor as Trace jumped onto the bed. It creaked, the springs protesting at his weight. “Looks like we’ll be fucking on the floor.” Shae inhaled. Trace continued. “Either that or we’ll have musical accompaniment.”

  “Jesus, Trace!”

  “What?” he asked, feigning complete innocence.

  “I’m going to shower. I suggest you do the same. To your mouth.”

  “You like it, babe. Don’t pretend.” He patted the space beside him. “Come and sit with me. Just for a moment.”

  It took her no more than a heartbeat to decide. She enjoyed being next to him far too much to deny him. She hopped up onto the bed, ignoring the uncomfortable feel of the springs beneath her, and leaned back against the thin pillow. Trace placed his arm around her middle, dragging her farther down the mattress, and pressed her against the comfort of his body.

  “Should you call your mom?”

  “She’ll be sleeping. I’ll call her later. You must think I’m neurotic.”

  He stroked his fingers down her cheek, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear before he spoke. “Not neurotic, but it is kinda strange.”

  Shae shifted onto her side, resting her hand on his hip. “She’s been forgetful lately.” Verbalizing it eased the tightening in her chest. “The morning you took me home she’d left a saucepan on the stove. Could have burned the house down. I’m worried about her.”

  “What else?” He stroked a solitary finger down the side of her neck, making a shiver rush along every vertebrae of her spine.

  Her lips pursed as she considered his question. “Nothing. I suppose it seems ridiculous now.”

  “You care about her, Shae. That’s not ridiculous.”

  “Feels like it when all I seem to do is babysit her.”

  Hooking a finger under her chin, he tilted her head up, the eye contact feeling far too intense for their current relationship.

  “So stop,” he said bluntly. “She’s an adult.”

  “Hard to do that when she buries her head in the sand when times get difficult.” Bitter. She sounded so bitter.

  Trace’s brows shot together, obviously hearing what she’d heard in her tone. He waited for her to offer up the information rather than probe, and deciding that she’d already opened the box to her life, she saw no point in clamming up now. She sighed. “My father’s . . . well, he’s not exactly father of the year. I’m the product of an affair. An affair that almost cost my father his marriage. He’s said my name with a grimace ever since the day I was born. He paid the mortgage on our house—his way of absolving himself. I didn’t know until recently that he was also subsidizing the dance studio. Well, all that’s stopping. Turns out my mom knew about it a while back. She didn’t tell me, or she forgot. Whatever. So for the last few days I’ve been number-crunching between dance classes, hoping the figures add up.”

  “And do they?”

  Shae swallowed. “Kind of.” She shot him an uncertain smile. “It’s sort of why I came to see you at Metro.”

  “Oh?”

  Shae toyed with the hem of his T-shirt, her fingers tingling when they came into contact with the skin on his side. She was growing used to the flash of arousal she got whenever she touched him, though she didn’t feel it any less. It always left her gasping for air.

  “There’s a small apartment above the studio. No one has lived up there for years. In fact, we use the kitchen to make coffee, but anyway, it needs modernizing. It’s there.”

  “Are you offering it to me?”

  Shae agreed, hoping like hell she hadn’t overstepped the mark. “Y-you said you were looking. I heard you with your brother-in-law. I thought it would help you. And us. The rent would make cash flow a bit better. We would be able to breathe.” She took his silence as a bad sign and began to fill it with babble. “It would have nothing to do with us—you and me. We’re . . . this is separate. Whatever it is. I wouldn’t kick you out for not sleeping with me or anything. I’m not like that. It’s—”

  “Shae.”

  “Was it a silly idea?”

  “Shae,” he repeated, louder this time.

  Snapping her mouth shut, she stared at him and tried to work out what he was thinking. His expression gave nothing away. Not until he smiled, the knee-melting kind that would have toppled her over had she been standing.

  “I think your idea is great. I’ll have to look at it, of course. But I bet it’s a lot nicer than most of the hovels I’ve viewed.”

  “Really?”

  Trace rolled her onto her back, lowering his body onto hers. His hair flopped forward, and as he brought his lips closer to hers, Shae brushed it out of his eyes. “Really,” he whispered, his gaze drifting to her lips.

  “I feel like this is rather inappropriate for a business transaction.”

  He rocked his hips against hers, his erection burning through his jeans and blazing a path on her skin. “It is.”

  She licked her lips, watching as his pupils flared wider in response. “I feel like we should celebrate.”

  “Me, too. And I know the perfect way.”

  Chapter 12

  “Why do I always end up sore after having sex with you?” Shae asked while rubbing the back of her head.

  “Dunno, babe.” He offered her a fry from the cardboard container, snatching it away before she could get one. Evil.

  “Hey!” Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling the box back to her with a strength that surprised him.

  “Jeez,
here you go.” He handed her a couple but not the container. “No need to set your Hulk hands on me.”

  Ignoring him, Shae took the fries and tossed them back at him, scattering them across the bed.

  After spending all morning in bed, celebrating Trace’s possible move to the dance studio apartment, they’d both been famished. Since Shae didn’t ride, it left Trace to hunt for food. It felt oddly domesticated, having him get provisions while she showered and tidied their belongings.

  Unable to stop herself, she called her mom, relieved when she heard Lisbeth’s bridge buddies in the background. Whenever her mom held a card afternoon, the women could be entertained for hours. That knowledge allowed her the freedom to enjoy her time with Trace.

  “I do not have Hulk hands.” She pouted. “And you weren’t complaining about them when they had hold of your junk.”

  Trace started to choke on a fry. “You need to work on your dirty talk, babe. It’s called a cock. Not junk.”

  “My dirty talk is just fine. Your charm, however, isn’t.”

  He leaned closer, kissing her. The salt of the food had her mouth salivating. There was no force behind his lips—a gentle confirmation. They didn’t kiss often, but when they did, it made her thighs quake. He didn’t rear back when their lips parted, and her nipples now throbbed from the intensity of his emerald gaze. “My charm got you naked, so you like it just fine.”

  His assessment was spot on. The guy just had to look at her and she was willing to whip her clothes off and climb him like a tree.

  Trace continued to stare at her as his fingers walked up her bare leg. She’d pulled on a T-shirt while they ate, but she had a feeling it was going to hit the floor very soon. “Thanks, Trace.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

  “For?” His fingers reached the hem of her T-shirt.

  “Asking me to come with you.”

  “You’re welcome.” His hand moved back down to grasp her ankle. “But right now I’d prefer you to come alone.”

  He tugged as her mouth opened. They tussled until he’d dragged her down the bed so that her pelvis rested on his lap and her legs lay against the side of his hips. Shae’s back hit the mattress, her hips elevated, and she swallowed at the sparkle of intent that glistened in his gaze. It held her own, his tongue trailing across his bottom lip while his fingers began to walk back up her leg.