by Kate Kisset
With her head nestled in the crook of his arm, and his hand holding the small of her back, she sucked on his delectable lower lip, relishing his clean taste. Long-dormant butterflies buried inside of her woke up. A deep moan escaped his lips electrifying her. Trace slipped his tongue into her mouth and stroked against hers. A jolt shot through her and they picked up where they left off at the Christmas tree farm. There was no awkward fumbling or tentative first time lover queries about liking this or that. Their bodies were still in love.
The six years they had spent apart morphed into a two-minute span, or no time at all. Monique pulled him closer and kissed him harder. With his fingers on her jaw, Trace ran his tongue under her lower lip and worked his way to her upper, giving them equal time. She drew a breath and broke away from the kiss. “I’m—a little—out of practice.” Her knees buckled and he tightened his grip around her. “My legs shook so much, I barely made it up the stairs.”
“Monique, you never have to be nervous with me,” he whispered against her lips. Then he kissed her on the cheek and gave her open-mouth kisses all the way down her neck. She arched her back, not believing the wonderfully thrilling sensations of her body coming alive again.
Moving her bathrobe off her shoulder, he sucked and nibbled on the warm skin that ached for his caress. His smooth cheek rubbed against hers as his kisses moved up her neck and around her ear. She thought she’d collapse. Trace tightened his hold around her. She clung to him as he led her backward to the bed until the mattress brushed the back of her legs.
“Do you mind if I unwrap my Christmas gift early?” His voice contained a smile
Monique didn’t have the words to answer. She nodded yes and would answer the same to anything he wanted. Despite what she said to him last night, she knew in her heart she trusted Trace and always had. She wouldn’t be with him right now if she didn’t.
“You are my Christmas, Monique. The only gift I’ve ever wanted,” he said untying the sash of her bathrobe. Before she could respond, another shudder tore through her. He eased the robe off her shoulders and it fell to the floor. Trace stepped back. His eyes were dark and took her in as if she were a frosted glass of water on a sweltering day.
Monique sucked in her belly and reached for the nightstand. “Let’s turn out the light.”
He clasped his hands around her waist over the light fabric, creating a jittery mass of electricity. “Don’t even think about it.”
“But, I don’t look the same. I’ve had a bab—”
Trace put his lips to her mouth. “No,” he whispered before kissing her. Covering her body with his, his heart beat fast against her as he leaned her back on the mattress. Between breaths and kisses he said, “You’re just as beautiful, even more...” And silly or not, she couldn’t help but feel beautiful.
He kissed under her lingerie strap and meticulously pulled it down. Trace covered the bare area with his lips and traveled south to her breasts. She arched her hips against the hard bulge in his jeans, holding her breath in anticipation. Trace cupped her breast and made her delirious by circling her nipple with his tongue before taking it into his mouth and sucking.
“Trace.” A whimpering ball of frenzied nerves, she sank further back on the bed.
He came back to her lips. Giving both nipples equal time, he rolled each one between his thumb and index finger and kissed her again. Heat shot through her. The agonizing quiet ember smoldering under the surface for six years was about to blow. She gripped his shoulders and moved impatiently against his groin.
Without breaking their delicious tongue dance, Trace made a path with his fingers from her breasts, over her belly to the crotch of her panties. He reached into the side and slid a finger into her, and then another. When he used his thumb, rubbing mind-blowing circles against her sweet spot, she clenched. Wait.
“I want to come together like we used to,” she whispered, hoping he heard her. With her nervousness gone, nothing mattered except feeling him inside of her.
Trace took off of his clothes before she had enough time to ogle him thoroughly. In a blur, she recognized his same beautiful chest, same tight abs, and the same thin line of hair leading down to his magnificent—condom. She hadn't seen him put it on, but felt relieved she didn't have to ask. Her body tightened with anticipation when he came back and blanketed her with his thick muscled chest. Before she could wriggle out of the remainder of her teddy, he pushed the flimsy fabric at her crotch to the side. Trace slid against her swollen flesh, once, twice; she was panting so much with need, she didn’t know how many times he rubbed against her. With her head in the stratosphere, Monique closed her eyes, wanting to savor every phenomenal sensation.
“So beautiful,” Trace whispered, moving her thighs apart with his. He gripped her hips and glided inside of her.
“Trace,” she called out, becoming unglued, amazed by the feeling. “We're still perfect.”
“You feel unbelievable.” He moved back and thrust inside her again.
She clamped her legs around him. Holding on tight, she kissed his shoulder. He sucked the curve of her neck, moving in rhythm. Tightening, she pulled him deeper inside her. Over and over he filled her until her eyes rolled into the back of her head and every spark she had and even those she wasn’t aware of blasted through her body.
“Monique.” He moaned, relaxing his body on top of her. “Oh my God, Monique,” he said into the pillow next to her ear.
Feeling like an unset bowl of Jell-O, Monique reached around the back of his head and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. She laughed into Trace’s cheek. “We are so good together.”
He lifted his head from the pillow and braced himself on his elbows. “We always were.” Not wanting to miss a second of bliss, she kept her eyes open and watched him lean down and kiss her.
Trace planted a kiss on her nose and dug both of his hands under her. In one swoop, he rolled over, moving her on top of him. Grinning, she climbed off and snuggled next to him on the pillow. “Look what we’ve done.” She bent down inspecting the mangled blue material wrapped around her legs and tugged at the fabric.
“Such a shame.” Trace brushed over her hand and wound part of the elastic around a finger until it snapped. “But it had no business covering your body like that.” After repositioning her head on his chest, Trace smoothed the hair off her forehead. “I don’t think you know how much I’ve missed you.” He kissed her hair and whispered, “I can’t believe I’m leaving in two days.”
Monique closed her eyes, trying to block out his words and her feelings.
HAZY LIGHT STREAMED through the pattern of lavender sprays on the curtain fluttering in the breeze. Something she remembered she loved poked her backside. Would she be able to walk today? Trace’s warm, muscled arm prevented her from moving. Supremely relaxed, she snuggled into the pillow, trapped in his arms. What a way to go. She closed her eyes and then opened them. “Oh my god, it’s a school day.”
Monique scooted out from under his arm and tumbled out of bed, darting to her robe on the floor.
“I have to get downstairs,” she said, slipping it on. “Adele will be looking for me.” She frantically tied the sash.
Trace propped himself up on his elbow, appearing every inch like the sex god he was. His rippling bare chest, tousled bed hair, and green eyes were more tempting than coffee after a hang-over. He rolled over to the bedside alarm clock and grabbed it. Fortunately for Monique, the sheets went with him, uncovering his luscious butt. On his stomach, thighs splayed, Monique wished she could forget mommy duties for just ten more minutes.
“It’s only six-thirty.” Trace set the clock down on the nightstand. He rolled over and put his hands behind his head on the pillow. She couldn’t peel her eyes away from the treat protruding from his groin. He caught her staring and grinned. “Come back, Monique. Monique, Monique, with eyes so sweet and skin I love —”
“Oh no. Not lyrics.” She giggled, remembering the way he used to sing to her. “If you
start making songs up about me, I’ll never leave.”
“Please.” He patted the mattress.
She sighed because she couldn't resist and settled on the bed by his thigh. “Santa’s got to go.” Trace tugged at her robe and raised a brow.
“I should be downstairs already.” Monique’s hard nipples protested. Now that Trace had her engine running smoothly again, boy, did she want to go for another spin. “Nana’s probably up making breakfast and Adele needs me to help her get ready for school.”
“She has to go to preschool today?” Trace frowned. “It’s the day before Christmas Eve. Why don’t you let me take her today?” He reached under the robe and caressed her thigh. His hand inched higher. “We’ll go Christmas shopping or something.”
Barely able to focus because his fingers set off sparks through her veins, she moved his hand out from under her robe. “I wish I didn’t have to take her, and thank you for your offer, but Adele should stay on her schedule.” Monique couldn’t bring herself to tell Trace she wanted to spare Adele the pain of missing him. She couldn’t risk causing her any heartache. “We have a private party at the winery, so it’s going to be busy. I’ll only worry about her, and I don’t want to put you out. I’m sure there are loose ends at the lot you need to wrap up.”
“Nothing more important than you.” His eyes flashed a sweet heat, and her heart tore at the seam. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.
“Adele will be all right at school. Nana made cupcakes. They're having a party.”
Traced sighed. “Jim Hill is giving me the financial rundown today, and I have a few errands to do. So, I’ll see you at dinner then?”
Monique let the invitation hang, not sure how to proceed. Her synchronized plan of keeping her emotions in check jettisoned out the window last night the second he kissed the straps of her teddy away from her shoulders. Trace would leave tomorrow, so a romantic one-on-one dinner with him was out of the question. It would only make saying good-bye worse, but she could manage dinner with Nana and Adele. She’d be home anyway. “Yes, I’ll see you here tonight. We can say good-bye after dinner.”
Chapter Eight
Jim Hill's financial recommendations didn’t surprise Trace. He left Napa Pines and Wines soon after the meeting. Deciding not to wait until dinner to see Monique, Trace drove to Santino Winery hoping to surprise her and take her to lunch. When he saw how busy the parking lot was and that every surrounding space on the adjacent roads was taken, he changed his mind.
Maybe she hadn’t been exaggerating when she told him she had a busy day planned. Trace didn't want to intrude on Monique at work, but he needed time alone with her before he left. He had a nagging feeling she pushed him away at breakfast and it made him nervous.
Didn't Monique feel the undeniable connection between them last night? Wasn't it more than a random reunion between two lovers for her? Monique's touch, her velvet skin, taste, smile, mouth, curves, laugh, their shared memories, everything about her haunted him today more than the first time he met her.
Although Trace had protected his heart by not calling and hadn't begged her to join him on tour after she’d refused, he'd never forgotten her. She’d always be the one that got away. The only woman he couldn't completely have. And now, after being in St. Helena for only a week, Monique was the only person left on the planet he loved.
He spent the afternoon alone in Napa in a mass of hand-holding cheerful couples and families at the mall. Trace returned to St. Helena with Monique and Adele's Christmas gifts wrapped and hidden in the trunk of his rental car.
He ran a hand through his hair and strolled through the produce aisle of St. Helena Market in search of cards. Scooting around a display of fifty-percent-off poinsettias, Trace rounded a corner. While Burl Ives serenaded him from overhead with “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas,” he found the display of greeting cards.
Thumbing through the good-bye section, he pulled a card and read: Don’t let the door hit ya, where the good lord split ya. Trace returned it to its slot and chose another. Blank on the inside, it featured a puppy crying in the rain on the front. The dog looked too damn sad. The hollow feeling in his chest grew.
Why did he always have to say good-bye? The whole damn St. Helena trip was one pathetic farewell. Adios to the Christmas tree lot. Ciao to the bungalow and the memories. Adieu to his uncle, and now, so long Monique, bye-bye Adele. He spun the display around and studied the holiday greetings. He found one for Adele and picked out two different cards for Monique. He’d decide which one to give her later. Monique would be home soon and he didn’t want to waste what little he had left.
TRACE ENTERED THE DINING room at seven. Loretta, Monique and Adele were already seated at the table. He slid into a chair across from Monique without taking his eyes off her. She wore her hair down and had a white sweater on that hugged her curves. He swallowed a lump in his throat and tried not to stare. After tasting her last night, he couldn’t help dreaming about a second helping.
“I helped Mommy set the table.” Adele pointed to white roses and green foliage tucked between the candles.
“It’s very pretty, Adele.”
“Mommy said we could light the candles because it’s your last night. Are you leaving?” “I’m afraid so.” Trace didn’t think he’d ever get over the way Adele cut to the chase.
“I’m going back to New York tomorrow.” Ignoring the heavy feeling invading his chest, he kept his tone light. “Have you heard the news?”
They gave him blank stares. “Jessica had a baby girl at five fifty-seven. Joe’s a grandfather.”
“Everyone okay?” Monique asked.
“They’re doing great. They’ve named her Bell.”
Adele’s eyes got big. “Like Christmas bells?”
“I’ll bet it is.”
Loretta passed him a plate of lasagna. “Eat as much as you want. All the guests checked out, so we’ve got the place all to ourselves.”
“What’s the word from the accountant?” Monique picked at her plate. “How'd it go?”
Trace wiped his mouth with a napkin. “The farm doesn’t earn enough to pay the taxes on the property. The value is in the land. But I’m not surprised. Let’s not talk about it now, it’s almost Christmas. Adele, what do you want from Santa?”
“I want Mommy to smile everyday like she is now.” She giggled. “And Daddy to visit.” She picked up her fork. “If you stay, you can meet him.”
Trace threw a glance at Monique hoping she’d help him. “That would be nice.” He didn’t know what else to say. Jarod wouldn’t make it for Christmas. According to Monique, he’d missed it every year of Adele’s life.
“You’re welcome to stay with us for Christmas, Trace.” Loretta picked up her wine glass and held it to her lips. “Just because the other guests have left doesn’t mean you have to go. I don’t want you to think we’re kicking you out.” She sipped from her glass.
He fiddled with his napkin, feeling Monique’s eyes burn a hole in his forehead. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but Dirty Harry needs me.”
“What?” Adele asked, giggling.
Monique laughed. “You still have that stinky cat?”
“Dirty Harry is nine now and not half as smelly as he used to be. Turns out I was feeding him the wrong food. I may change his name to plain old Harry.”
“So it’s just plain old Harry and you?” Loretta asked.
Trace chuckled. “We make a good team. Harry’s into the 49ers. He’s a little quiet, but I wouldn’t trade him.”
While they ate dinner Trace chimed in when he could but mostly listened to their plans for the next day. They'd finish baking cookies, deliver them to friends and go to Christmas Eve mass.
Trace tried to sell himself on the beauty of New York and Rockefeller Square at Christmastime, but felt a tug and longed for the days his parents were alive. He managed to keep a smile on his face so they wouldn’t notice how hard it was for him to hear about all the homey traditions he’
d never take part in again.
When Loretta asked Adele to help her clear the table, he waited until they were out of earshot. “Do you want to join me someplace quiet? The living room?” He leaned across the table to Monique. “My room, perhaps?”
“I’ve been thinking about what to say all day.” She smiled and Trace got his hopes up. “I don’t think I want to go through another good-bye with you.” She reached over the white tablecloth between the flowers and candles.
Trace held her hand. “I didn’t mean for this to end this way, Monique. We’ve barely started. I want to keep seeing you. We don’t have to say good-bye.”
“I’m sorry.” She chewed on her luscious bottom lip. “But I’m not a long distance kind of woman. I know myself well enough to know I couldn’t handle it.” Her eyes glistened in the candlelight.
The thought of Monique welling up, or, God forbid, crying sent Trace out of his chair and around the table in an instant. He crouched by her knees. “I don’t want you to be upset,” he explained, rubbing her leg. “Please Monique, what can I do?”
She cradled his face. Trace stared into her eyes, but didn’t feel a connection. Her spark for him had flickered out. In a matter of a day, he’d lost Monique again.
“Maybe you should pack. Let’s not make this any more difficult. We’ll say goodnight now and tell each other good-bye tomorrow.”
AFTER PRACTICING BLUES chords on Lola because he just couldn’t help himself from wallowing, Trace spent the night flipping from one side to the other on his mattress. He mulled over every what if and maybe scenario he could imagine regarding Monique. Not wanting to face the reality of leaving, he waited until nine to get out of bed and dragged himself to the shower. While getting dressed, his brain continued its silent bombardment of options. One obnoxious voice yelled at him, demanding he stay in St. Helena, the other whispered she’s just going to dump you again.
