The Kylie Ryans Series: Girl with Guitar, Girl on Tour, Girl in Love (extended edition)

by Caisey Quinn

  “This is happenin’ a lot faster for you than it does for most people. Than it did for me.” Trace cleared his throat and examined his hands. “In the beginning, pretty much everyone lied to me. Kept things from me. I had to figure out a lot of hard truths on my own.” She swallowed hard as Trace’s gaze faded to a different time. A strange and unfamiliar feeling of regret that she hadn’t known him back then, hadn’t been able to be there for him, tugged at her heart. “Just don’t forget that you can say no, because if you change who you are for them, then Kylie didn’t really make it—someone else did.”

  The silence pulled and strained between them. She could hear him breathing heavily. Or maybe it was her. “Now can I ask you something?” she asked, semi-hopeful that he would say no. He just nodded, his eyes moving from his hands to her eyes, then settling on the boot she was still resting against the hood of the golf cart. “Would you do anything differently? If you had it to do all over again, would you still have moved to Nashville?”

  Trace’s jaw twitched and she thought she saw him wince. Nice, Kylie. Worst question ever.

  “I’D DO some things differently, yeah, but I’d probably still have ended up in music one way or another,” he finally answered, though he still didn’t meet her eyes. “Music was my safe place growin’ up,” he continued. His thousand-yard stare told Kylie he wasn’t seeing the acres of land spread out before him, but something else entirely. “When there was music in my house it meant things were good. Everyone was happy, dancing, laughing, just enjoying being alive. When the music stopped…” Trace’s chest rose and fell as the grin he wore faded and she waited silently for him to finish. But he just shook his head as his eyes unglazed, returning him to the present. His skin held a slight flush and she wasn’t sure if it was from the wind or the conversation.

  Kylie let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. A breeze swirled past, sending loose blond strands of hair whipping into her face. “Rae said you were in a band when you first started out,” she offered as she pushed the hair out of her eyes.

  “Yeah. I was actually, with a couple of the guys that were at the party last night. But now they’re all married with kids and real jobs, and I’m living on a bus.”

  Her mouth gaped open. She couldn’t believe he was serious. “Trace...You have a real job, one I’m sure most of those guys would happily trade their nine-to-fives for.”

  He folded his arms across his chest before he spoke again. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Sometimes I just feel like it’s taking over my life.” He paused for a moment and stared up at the sky, as if looking for an answer to a question Kylie didn’t know had been asked. “No, it’s more like I’m missing out on actually having a life because of it. Like you said, won’t be much longer till someone else comes along and replaces me and I’ve given up...pretty much everything for this.”

  “You know I didn’t mean that. I was angry,” she reassured him. This was the first time she’d seem him let his guard down. It threw her off balance. Trying to comfort him and keep her own guard up at the same time was nearly impossible.

  “Doesn’t make it any less true. It’s not like anyone really cares if I release another album or not—there are plenty of other guys out there singing similar stuff.”

  “I care,” she told him, shrugging as if it wasn’t difficult for her to admit.

  “Hell, you don’t even like me,” he came back at her with a grin.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” Besides the fact that it’s not true.

  “So tell me why you care if I keep recording or not,” Trace challenged.

  Kylie took a deep breath, hoping her answer would be coherent and not turn into some mushy overshare. “Goodbye in Your Eyes reminds me of my dad. Of the things I would’ve said if I’d known the last time I saw him would be the last time,” she answered quietly, hoping the breeze would blow her words to wherever her dad was. When Trace didn’t say anything she continued. “I was born at 5:38 in the morning, and every year he barged into my room with his guitar at exactly 5:38 singing Happy Birthday.” Kylie paused to take a healing breath. “The line you wrote, ‘Every time that time comes around, I feel your goodbye all over again,’ one of the best lines ever written as far as I’m concerned.”

  One side of Trace’s mouth lifted before he spoke. “Up until now, I’ve pretty much had a smart ass remark for just about everything. You’re the first woman I’ve ever met who can shut me up. It blows Pauly’s mind,” Trace told her with a light huff that sounded like soft laughter. “And mine,” he finished.

  “Yeah, well, I’m probably the only woman you’ve ever associated with that has a triple digit IQ.” She bit her bottom lip and smiled to herself.

  When Trace didn’t respond, Kylie pushed up off the fence and stood straight.

  “Kylie—” he began, but she cut him off.

  “We should probably get back. I bet Pauly’s freaking out,” she said, mostly just to keep things from getting even more intense.

  “Yeah, okay,” he agreed.

  As she turned to step into the golf cart, something wet thudded against her hip. She looked down. Mud was splattered on her jeans and the bottom corner of her shirt. Well, Trace’s shirt. “What the hell?”

  Trace returned her puzzled look with a wicked grin and raised eyebrows. “That’s for insinuating I date bimbos,” he informed her, pointing at her mud-soaked hip.

  “Oh yeah?” Kylie scooped up a handful of mud and flung it at his chest. Direct hit. “Well that’s for standing me up in Dallas.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, another clump of mud splattered against her shoulder. “That’s for going into The Player’s Club and a bedroom with a complete stranger all in the same night.”

  “I was totally fine,” she argued as she slung a handful of moist earth that nailed her target a lot closer to his crotch than she’d meant to. “That’s for carrying me out like a cave man.”

  “Oh, I’ll show you cave man.” Trace grunted as he ran towards her with two handfuls of black sludge.

  Kylie squealed and ran, nearly tripping over her own feet as she tried to scoop up some more ammo. She’d always been a fast runner, but he was faster.

  By the time the mud fight ended, they were both panting and caked head to toe with mud.

  “No way you’re riding in my golf cart like that,” he told her, gesturing to her mud covered clothes.

  “Oh yeah, what about you?”

  Trace looked down at his drenched clothing. “I have to admit, you have much better aim than I would’ve guessed.”

  “Why, Mr. Corbin, was that a compliment?”

  His head snapped up and he glared at her. “I told you not to call me that.”

  “Okay, Tracey.”

  He shook his head, sending droplets of muddy water dripping from his hair. “I could kill Rae sometimes, I swear. Seriously, you cannot go around calling me that. I mean it.”

  “And if I do?”

  “Then I’ll—” He didn’t get to finish the threat because a giant clump of mud hit him square in the mouth.

  He took off after her, chasing Kylie almost all the way back to the house, both of them deserting the golf cart. Grabbing her around the waist, he carried her kicking and screaming to the man-made pond Rae had told her he’d built himself.

  “In you go,” he said as he tossed her in.

  “Trace, no! Please, I can’t swim!” she screamed in mid-air. Trace splashed into the water right behind her. Just as he wrapped an arm around her waist to tow her out, she leapt up and dunked him under.

  When he finally pushed her off of him and came up for air, she was laughing. Damn near hysterically. “You should’ve seen your face.” Kylie cracked up, bobbing in the murky water.

  “You,” he said as he shook his wet hair in her direction, “are not a nice girl.”

  “Never said I was.” She smirked at his back as he hoisted himself out onto the grass.

  “Guess I sho
uld’ve figured that out when you dumped thirty thousand dollars worth of alcohol down the drain,” he muttered. Kylie winced at the amount—she hadn’t realized it was so much. But then she laughed, thankful they were able to joke about it. “Truce?” he asked, reaching out his hand to help her out of the pond.

  “Truce,” she said, taking it. But she lost her footing as soon as he let go and she stumbled into his arms.

  “Whoa, you okay?” his eyes met hers and she felt heat flood to places she knew she shouldn’t be thinking about.

  Please kiss me, she thought at him. But he either didn’t get the message or he ignored it, because he released her as if she’d caught fire.

  “I’m fine,” she mumbled as the heavy weight of disappointment settled on her chest.

  “We’re going to have to strip these wet clothes off in the sunroom and shower before we head back.”

  At Trace’s mention of removing clothing, Kylie’s heart missed a beat and restarted all out of rhythm. “Um, I don’t exactly have anything else to put on.”

  “Just grab something of Rae’s and I’ll throw our stuff in the wash,” he said over his shoulder as he walked towards the house.

  When they reached the sunroom, Trace was a perfect gentleman, much to her frustration. He handed her a towel, then did not so much as glance in her direction as he stripped down to his boxer briefs and wrapped a towel around his waist. She, on the other hand, couldn’t get enough. The sight of his bare skin had her synapses firing like AK-47 rounds.

  He was thick and muscular and had just a hint of a farmer’s tan. Back muscles rippling with each movement reminded Kylie of the horses her grandparents had. Something clicked in her head as she realized what it was that had her practically panting after him. He was loaded, like probably obscenely wealthy, but he did all the work around the farm himself. Still took care of his sisters. Himself. Had callouses on his hands like her daddy did, because he wasn’t afraid of hard work. Okay, and yeah, he was hot as hell and could sing a girl’s panties right off of her.

  She peeled her wet clothes off slowly, hoping he’d turn and look, but he just picked up what she’d dropped and darted out of the room. She kept her drenched bra and panties on and wrapped the towel around herself. She was feeling majorly insecure due to the not-at-all-interested vibe Trace was suddenly radiating in her direction.

  She headed towards the master bedroom with the intention of using that bathroom to shower, but changed direction at the last minute. Since he was gone, she decided to go ahead and add her bra and panties to the laundry. Borrowing Rae’s clothes was one thing, but the thought of wearing someone else’s underwear freaked her out.

  She padded barefoot back towards the sound of a whirring washing machine. Trace was still nowhere to been seen when she finally found the laundry room. She dropped her towel and tossed her bra in the machine. She had just begun to slide her underwear down when the sharp intake of breath alerted her to the broad frame that darkened the laundry room doorway.

  JUST AS she started to rush to cover herself, his gaze locked on hers. The red-hot lust consuming her body was mirrored back to her from his penetrating stare. Suddenly she was overcome by something so much more powerful than want. She wanted to be successful in her career. She wanted to make her daddy proud. Before this, she thought she wanted Trace to look at her like he was right now. But she was past those feelings now. This was a deep aching to the point of painful, physical need.

  She maintained eye contact as she dropped her panties into the washing machine. “Forget something?” she asked softly. Trace reached past her, still not looking away from her face, though she could feel how badly he wanted to, and tossed the briefs he’d been holding into the machine.

  “I thought you’d already be in the shower.” His steely glare hardened but Kylie didn’t miss the tremor in his voice.

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” she quipped, breaking eye contact to pick her towel up off the floor. Suddenly she was very aware that her skin wasn’t one connected entity like she’d always believed. It was made of a zillion tiny individual cells that singed and tingled violently as Trace scrutinized them.

  “Nothing about you is disappointing,” he rasped. An inferno raged between her thighs and she just barely resisted the urge to grab the towel around his waist and pull him to her.

  “Two compliments in one day. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were starting to like me,” she said as she wrapped the thick white terrycloth around herself. Now that she was covered, his eyes raked over every inch of her body, touching all the places she wanted his hands to. He’d caught a glimpse and it seemed he’d liked what he saw, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

  “Please go get in the shower now,” his strained voice pleaded.

  Rejection spread like lava over her exposed flesh. Until she looked down at the front of his towel. “Seriously, go. I need a minute.”

  “Just one minute?” she asked, stepping closer to him. “Well, that is disappointing.”

  Trace closed his eyes as Kylie ran a finger lightly over his bare chest, but he didn’t move or even flinch. Drunk with power, she took another step closer. His skin was hot like she’d anticipated, and pulled taut over his muscles. She desperately wanted to replace her finger with her tongue.

  “Shower with me?” she suggested softly, careful to keep any hint of pleading out of her voice. Not that she wasn’t prepared to beg if need be. An intense throbbing had taken over her entire body. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before and it had her seconds away from crying out for him to touch her.

  But he shook his head no, eyes still closed, the muscles in his jaw clenching almost in time with her own pulsating ache.

  “Please look at me,” she whispered. He opened his eyes. They burned so fiercely she feared she might melt under the heat. Her body warmed to a dangerously high temperature from the inside out. If she wasn’t so turned on, she’d be scared.

  This would make her like all the others and she knew it, but she wanted him because of who he really was. The guy she’d seen here at his home and through his sisters’ eyes. Not because of the fame or the reputation. More like in spite of them. In her mind, that made their circumstances different. And it wasn’t like she was trying to marry him or anything. After tomorrow night, who knew if she’d ever even see him again? She sure as hell didn’t, and that made her want him that much more.

  “Then just make love to me and I’ll shower after, all by myself.” Her words were still lingering in the air when Trace let loose a guttural growl and lifted her off the floor. She wrapped her legs around him as if it were natural instinct and gave in to the urge to claim his mouth as hers. Because she had to.

  His thick wet tongue pressed hot into her mouth and she heard herself moan. She hadn’t known a kiss could feel like love but Trace made a job of it, licking and sucking and gently biting at her lips until he’d tasted every inch of her.

  He pressed her against the wall in the hallway outside of the laundry room and trailed firm kisses from her jaw to her throat. She moaned again loudly, wondering if normal people moaned during kissing. She massaged her way up the hard arms that held her until she reached his neck. Running her fingers through his thick hair, she relished in its softness. He groaned and she covered his mouth again.

  He smelled of damp earth and tasted of water and want. It was beyond a bad idea and Kylie knew that anything that felt this amazingly good would be followed immediately by hell to pay. But, God forgive her, it was worth it. When they finally made it to the shower, she was trembling with need.

  Trace turned the water on ten degrees past scalding and Kylie braced herself as the water covered her. Pulling her close from behind, he devoured her neck with his mouth and a whimper tore from deep inside of her. Her knees threatened to give out but arms of steel steadied her as he turned her around to face him.

  “You’re even more beautiful soaking wet.” His voice was so thick and deep it almost sent her careening over t
he edge then and there.

  “Please, Trace. I need you. Now,” she begged shamelessly.

  As if he’d waited a lifetime for those exact words, he grabbed her and lifted her again, pressing her against the tile shower wall. It was cold against her back but she was burning up.

  “Aw hell,” Trace groaned, along with a few other choice words.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Kylie was entering full-blown panic mode trying to figure out what she’d done wrong.

  “Condom.” Trace looked around as if one would appear in the shower.

  “Um, are there any under the sink?”

  “No, Kylie. There aren’t. I don’t bring women here.” He lowered her to standing and braced an arm on the wall beside her head.

  Oh. And oh, that made her want this so much more. She didn’t even think she could want this more, but there it was. “Trace, I’m on the pill. Have been for the past year.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I think you know,” she said softly, tensing for the awkward dose of rejection about to spill out all over her. The water pouring over his perfect skin made Kylie want to lick every inch of him.

  “Kylie, listen to me. I do not fuck without condoms. Ever.”

  “So don’t fuck me, Trace. Make love to me.”

  The man who had eleven number one hits in the first few years of his career, who’d escorted models, actresses, and countless beautiful women to red carpet award shows and other celebrity-filled events, who appeared perfectly comfortable in the middle of what Kylie considered an orgy, looked completely and utterly lost.

  “I-I don’t make love either, Kylie Lou.”

  “You could try,” she said softly. “Please? For me?” There it was. The undeniable proof that she’d fallen. Far and hard. She was begging. And she never, ever begged. For anything. Ever.