When we approached, the bouncer waved us forward, pulling aside the rope to let us in. I looked at the line of people waiting to pay to get in and realized it was all men. I guess that was one good thing about ladies’ night. No wait, and free drinks. The bouncer checked our IDs quickly and then we were being swallowed into the dark entrance, following the neon lights and deep thump of the music.
I pushed my glasses higher on my nose and squinted, trying to see a little better through the shadows. There was a part of me that felt protected behind my frames, almost like I was invisible. It was a ridiculous notion, but I felt it all the same. They made me a little braver, a Harlow with a different identity. A Harlow who could wear a skimpy outfit and maybe dance and have fun with her sisters. A Harlow who was in control this time.
***
Several hours and handfuls of free drinks later, I found myself out on the dance floor, caught in the press of bodies, losing myself to the rhythm of the music. I was so hot, every inch of my skin was slippery. I felt like I was dancing with no one and everyone all at once.
“I’m gonna go rustle up some drinks,” Marlow shouted at me. She pointed at the bar, and I nodded. Willow had just left to go to the ladies’ room. “Don’t move from this spot.” She pointed to the floor below us almost violently.
The roll of my eyes was louder than anything I could have said to her. She left and the space she vacated was soon filled with other nameless bodies, all grinding to the beat. I closed my eyes, letting the music force my body to move, loving the freedom of not being lonely Harlow. Of shedding the good girl for the night.
Hands firmly gripped my waist and pulled me back against a tight, hard chest. “I thought they’d never leave you alone.”
His voice was the last one I’d expected to hear tonight, but my body answered him immediately, hips pressing into him, back arching so that his breath was at my ear. For a moment, I wondered if I was imagining things.
“I’ve had to watch these fucking morons drool all over you for the last hour, Cricket.” He spun me around so we were facing each other, not an inch of space between us. His hands smoothed down over my hips, not needing to go far before his fingers found the bottom edge of my tiny outfit. “This dress,” he growled, curling his fingers around the hem. “I thought I was going to lose my fucking mind.” I looked up to see his gaze fixed on my glasses. “You look like some sort of hot librarian, and all I want to do is fuck you up against a stack of books.”
As if his words weren’t clear enough, he moved his hips with mine to the music, and I was wondering where we could find a stack of books to remedy the raging hard-on that was pressed up against me.
Bad brain. Bad hormones. Bad Harlow. There would be no remedying of hard-ons tonight.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. Maybe it was the glasses, or the many drinks, or the shadows that made the whole thing surreal, but I was glad to see him. The ache I felt before was still there, throbbing and more intense now that his hands were on me.
Trace lowered his head until his mouth was against my temple. “I came with Jay and his date, Denton.” One of his hands cupped my ass, but I didn’t push him away. We were still moving to the music and then his other hand moved up, his fingers digging into my tangled hair to pull my face closer to his. “I thought it would be torture to be here without you, but then you walked in. With your sisters. What are the fucking chances?”
His mouth was so close my lips parted on instinct, desperate for him to kiss me. Our mouths drifted together, but just barely. His thigh pressed between mine, forcing the bottom of my dress to ride higher. His hand was still on my ass, his fingertips grazing the bare skin under the hem.
“Come home with me tonight,” he begged against my lips. “I’ll be your dirty secret again tomorrow if you give me tonight.” He pulled me against him, like his body could devour mine if I could just get close enough.
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to be reckless and needy and hungry. I wanted him. But leaving with him wasn’t a choice.
My hands went up around his shoulders, and my fingers buried deep in his hair, clutching tightly and pulling him into a kiss that threatened to completely unravel me. When I finally was able to pull away, I said, “I can’t go home with you. My sisters came here to visit me. I’m not going to bail on them.”
“What if they weren’t here? Would you go home with me?” His tone was low and sexy, but I caught the undercurrent of desperation behind his words, and it scared me.
I shook my head. “You said we’d date. I’m not just some easy score you can bang before we even have our first date,” I joked.
He pulled back to smirk at me. We both knew that was a lie. At least it had been in Vegas.
Instead of arguing, he pressed his thigh against me, rubbing me right where I ached the worst for him. A rush of need flooded me, crushing my lungs, pulling at my breaths and I realized that he could break me if he wanted. And I think he knew it. He only had to push a little more, and I’d fall like a deck of cards. I couldn’t let that happen.
“You can steal this one dance,” I managed to say.
His golden eyes flashed under the web of flickering lights overhead, and even though his face was still a collage of shadows, I didn’t miss the challenge I saw reflected back at me. “One dance?”
I nodded, biting the inside of my lip like that could somehow keep me in one piece.
“I guess I better make it worth it then.”
He crushed me to him, his hands and fingers and tongue and…fuck. He was everywhere. I couldn’t tell if the beat pulsing through me was from the music or my racing heart. Either way, it was a pounding that threatened to knock me off my feet. Trace held me to him, and I followed his movements, grinding, rocking, moving to the music. We were surrounded by so many hot, sweaty bodies we were nearly indistinguishable. His thigh was still between my legs, and my dress had moved so high that I could feel the scratch of his jeans through my thin panties. He was hard against my bare leg, and my breath came in short pants as he thrust his tongue against mine, the grip of his fingers in my hair holding me close so his mouth could ravage me. I clutched at his damp shirt, and I swear the only reason we weren’t fucking was because there were a few pieces of clothes in the way. Clothes I wanted to rip off.
Suddenly, both of his hands were on my ass, moving me against his leg and I could feel small echoes throbbing at my center, a promise that I could completely shatter if I just let go. Trace pulled back to look at me, and I could barely meet his eyes mine were so clouded over with lust and want and need. His hand slid over my hip and down the front of my thigh, teasing the edge of my dress.
“Do you want it?” He leaned down until his mouth was against my ear. “Song’s almost over, but I can still give you what you need, Cricket.” It was dark, and there were so many people around us we were nothing but another pair of shadows.
I think I nodded. His lips slammed against mine, tongue plunging into my mouth, consuming me. His finger inched under my dress. And along the edges of my panties. And underneath.
The second he touched me, skin to skin, I was lost. Just one slick swipe of his finger and my body was a million tiny explosions. He kept his hand still as my hips bucked against him, stealing the small sweet pressure from him. He continued to kiss me and let me take and take until I was shuddering. Almost boneless. His kissing slowed until our mouths were barely touching at all. He pulled back slightly to straighten my dress and pull it lower, his eyes never leaving mine. His arm was still holding me close, keeping me on my feet. Without his possessive warmth between my legs and on my mouth, I felt like all those tiny explosions had settled into a pile of ash in my stomach. I wanted him to stay close. I wanted—
He leaned in close again until our cheeks were touching. “I’m the only one who gets to dance with you like that,” he growled against my ear. “You hear me?”
I nodded because…holy hell, what could I say?
Trace looked over my shoulder. “S
ee you in class on Monday.” Before I could blink, he was gone, and I was standing there in shock, spent and sated and completely still among the mass of rocking bodies around me.
“Who was that?”
I spun around to see my sisters had pushed their way back through the crowded dance floor, drinks in hand.
Holy shit. That was close. Too close.
I grabbed the drink Willow was holding out for me and took a huge gulp as if the answer to her question was somewhere in the bottom of the glass. I swallowed, but they were still looking at me, expecting an answer. I shrugged. “Just some guy I know from school. He came over to say hello.”
“Well,” Marlow shouted over the music, craning her neck to try to see him through the crowd and shadows. “I’ll take a hello like that any day.” She lifted her eyebrows, giving me a triumphant look as she took a sip of her drink. I wondered how much she’d seen, and realized it was going to be damn near impossible to keep my secrets from them forever.
“It was just a dance,” I countered. “Don’t make it more than it was.” I was such a fucking liar. It wasn’t just a dance. It was Trace. It was everything.
“Yeah?” She lifted her slim eyebrow and one edge of her mouth tilted into a grin. “Then you won’t mind if I get one from him.”
I shrugged. “Knock yourself out.”
Marlow gave me a full grin. “You are such an awful liar. But I like it. I knew you had a bad girl in there somewhere.”
If only she knew.
— TRACE —
12. GEAR & GRIND
September 26, 2016
TRACE STONE ON A TRAIL NEAR YOU By UrbanWheels.com
Look out East Coasters because Trace Stone is still hanging around. Washington state can have their Bigfoot sightings. We’re not jealous because Maryland has an infamous snowboarder to track down. First he was spotted in his hometown and then at an O’s game, but now we have reports he’s been seen at local skate parks and bike trails. The owner of the Gear & Grind Skate Park, a skate shop in northern Maryland, confirmed reports that Stone stopped by this past weekend to tune up his skateboard and mountain bike. When asked if he revealed the locations he planned to visit, the employees declined to comment.
=========================
I woke up Sunday morning with a desperate need to go fast. After my weekend of stolen moments with Harlow and a shit ton of sexual frustration, I needed a little danger to take the edge off. To keep me sane. If I didn’t get out of town, I just might give in to the urge to hunt her down and steal her away for the day, sisters be damned.
I wanted a hill and some speed. I needed to take some risks if only so I could feel in control again. It was time to find a steep mountain and throw myself down the side of it.
The sun was still struggling over the horizon when I shoved my mountain bike into the back of my pickup and made the two-hour drive to one of my favorite trails. Redfield wasn’t the hardest ride, but it was one of the closest, double black diamond bike trails, and I needed to work some things out. To feel the rush of the race, even if it was just me racing myself and my demons.
I usually didn’t hit the trails alone, it was dangerous, but I wasn’t in the mood for company today. Unless it came in the form of a pair of green eyes tucked behind fuck-me librarian glasses. I hadn’t been joking last night when I told Harlow I wanted to take her up against the stacks. Those glasses. Damn. I’d let her boss me around any day of the week if she wore those glasses. And nothing else.
I parked my truck in the lot at the bottom of the mountain and then began the long hard ride to the top of the trail. The one thing about snowboarding was that it was a difficult sport to train year-round. The logistics and cost of finding quality snow in warmer months was just an impossibility. So in the off-season, I skateboarded to retain my balance, stability, and muscle memory. I lifted and did anaerobic training to keep up my strength. And I rode my bike on trails that had bank turns and jumps to simulate the feel of the race. The details were slightly different between a skateboard and snowboard, and biking used a whole separate range of motions, but the fundamentals were the same. Keep the muscles strong. Trust your body. Find the perfect path with the least amount of effort.
My off-season training at the Blockhouse hadn’t been disastrous. That’s not why I’d left. I jumped ship because I’d been missing that spark—that need to be flawless and perfect in my movements. At the time, my thoughts were scattered, and I was all too aware that my training wasn’t pure. I was half-assing it. And I’d never half-assed anything before. I bailed on the Blockhouse because I knew I wasn’t giving 100%, and I hated being ineffective.
But today, when I reached the top of the trail and saw the steep hill laid out before me, I felt ready to race. To conquer. To tear through anything in my way. I was more ready than I’d been since the accident.
I was going to own this fucking hill.
The moment my feet hit the pedals and my front wheel launched over the first drop-off, all the distractions faded away, and I was me again. Cocky. Hardcore. Badass.
Trace Stone.
***
Harlow refused to look at me when I sat down beside her in class the next day, but she couldn’t hide the flush that crept up her neck and over her cheeks.
“How was the rest of your weekend, Cricket?” I asked, reaching into my bag.
“Good.” Her voice wavered, and I smirked, confident that nothing had been as good as her dance with me.
She continued to scribble out another one of her lists, twirling a piece of hair between the fingers of her free hand. I resisted the urge to look at her list today since she seemed to be doing her best to block my view of it. I grinned, wondering what she thought when she discovered the addition I left on her list Saturday morning. I don’t know why I wrote it. I didn’t really mean it, I just liked knowing it would fluster her when she read it.
I pulled the thick envelope out of my bag and reached over, placing it on her lap. Her breath caught, and I noticed my fingers were close to where they’d been the other night at the dance club. They twitched, wanting a repeat performance. Reluctantly, I let go.
“What’s this?” she managed to ask, dropping her eyes to the package in her lap.
“Pictures.” I stared at her profile, waiting for the moment she dared to meet my gaze. She blinked a few times, and I wondered what thoughts were racing through her mind. When she finally looked at me, I was surprised to see vulnerability in her eyes…like I held some sort of power over her, and she wasn’t sure what I’d do with it. “I promised you I’d bring them, remember?” I reminded her.
“Oh.” Her lips wrapped around that tiny syllable with little more than a whisper, and she looked down at her lap again. She grabbed the envelope with shaky hands and quickly tucked it away in her backpack. “Thanks.”
“What are you going to do with them?” I tried to keep my tone light and unaffected, but handing the photos over to her felt a little like giving up. I still had her promise of two months of dates, but the pictures were concrete evidence of what we’d done. For some inexplicable reason, I didn’t want to let go of that.
She shrugged. “I don’t really know yet.”
“Just—” I exhaled, running a hand back through my hair. “Just don’t throw them away.” I frowned at the pencil in my other hand and rolled it between my finger and thumb, remembering. “No matter what happens after Thanksgiving, it was still a good night.”
She was quiet for a while, and I thought she wouldn’t answer. Finally, she said, “Yeah. It was.”
I tapped my pencil on the end of my notebook. The thin piece of wood bounced off the wire ring. “You busy tonight? We could have dinner.”
“I can’t,” she quickly responded. “I have too much work to catch up on. I didn’t get anything done while my sisters were here.”
“Tomorrow?” I countered.
“I have an article due Wednesday.”
I clenched my teeth and turned to face her. “What ni
ght are you free this week?”
She glanced up quickly, but her eyes fell back to her list. She refused to hold my gaze. Her pen was tracing around the numbers of the items on her list, making them harsh and thick. “I’m sorry. I’m just really busy this week. I can’t get behind on my work.”
“You sure you’re not trying to back out of our deal, Cricket?”
“No.” It sounded like a question instead of a denial.
“In that case, keep Friday open. You’re all mine.” I snatched her list out of her surprised grip and set it on my desk so I could add to it.
1. Mail Marlow’s thong back to her
2. Clip Couch Cat’s nails
3. Finish book-to-movie article
4. Bus. of Journ. homework
5. Essay for Comm.
6. Go on a date with Trace and get naked if possible
Her exaggerated eye roll and disgusted grunt when I gave it back to her was exactly what I was aiming for. Especially when it was followed by a smile she tried to hide behind her hand.
***
Since Harlow was busy all week and our date wasn’t until Friday, I was left with a lot of downtime. Knowing that being with her wasn’t a possibility, my workouts became my focus. The weather was great, and I found a couple of bike trails nearby that I frequented during the day. At night, I was able to convince Gear & Grind Skate Park to rent out their space after hours so I could work on my board skills without a crowd. A strange sense of calm seemed to come over me and in all those hours spent alone, I was rediscovering my drive. Friday night was reserved for Harlow, but when I wasn’t in class, all the hours in between were spent tearing down my fears, and rebuilding my confidence and the fire inside. Everything seemed to be falling into place. The doubt was fading away.
That’s why on Friday morning, I was equal parts pissed and worried when Harlow didn’t show for class. Did she know the professor was showing a video? Was she too embarrassed to watch it with me sitting next to her? Or was she sick? Or worse yet, maybe she was trying to get out of our date. Again.
Hitched (Hearts of Stone Book 2) Page 11