The giggle I get when Trace places the oatmeal in front of me and I grimace makes it worth it when the nasty, gloopy mess hits my tongue and starts congealing immediately.
“Don’t like oatmeal?”
“No. I told you that the first time you made it for breakfast and tried to feed me half a pot of the stuff.”
“But I thought that was just because I was so bad at making it.”
The need to laugh is strong because my Trace is truly the world’s worst cook. Her oatmeal was solid enough to tar the driveway, and just getting a spoonful to dissolve in my mouth took at least two minutes of actual chewing. But she always makes everything with so much enthusiasm and love that I couldn’t bring myself to criticize her.
She found out the next day that I hate the gloopy mess and stopped making it, though to be honest, at least I could eat that in an hour. Her eggs and bacon were like eating ass from a campfire.
“Babe, your oatmeal sucked, I ain’t going to lie to you, but I really do not like the stuff,” I admit, staring the stuff down as if it will disappear with a look.
“Here. Eat mine. I actually do like oatmeal.” She giggles, taking my bowl and swapping it out for her eggs and bacon feast.
“You’re the perfect woman, you know that?” I ask, groaning when the taste hits my tongue.
Now my ma, that woman knows her way around a kitchen, and I’m not afraid to admit it to Trace. Some women just have different talents, and Trace is better at…other things.
We eat in silence, sitting side by side. For a few minutes I can almost pretend that we’re an old married couple just enjoying one of many breakfasts we’ve already shared.
I like this. I really like this, and for the first time in a long time I can see myself being this guy who wakes up beside his woman, enjoying the start of another glorious day.
But I can’t do this if I’m still serving. I know it because odds are that I’ll be home for a week at a time, if I’m lucky, and then it’ll be a short stay before shipping out to another distant locale and doing the same things all over again.
There won’t be easy, lazy mornings relaxing in bed and just enjoying the silence. After weeks away and knowing I’ll be gone soon, I’ll spend all my time on and in her and she deserves more than that.
“Hey, Trace?”
“Hhmmm?” she mumbles around a spoon of gloop as I put the tray on the floor beside the bed and turn to her.
“Do you think you would have married me if I’d asked you four years ago?” I ask, knowing the answer but still needing to hear it.
Trace swallows audibly and gets rid of her bowl before turning to me with a sad smile.
“Yes. I would have, because at that point in my life, all I wanted was you.”
Okay good. So I won’t need to throw myself off a bridge or anything, I think sardonically as I settle in on my good side and just stare at all that beauty that is now mine.
“Would you have been happy with that, though? No career, me always going away for work? We’d probably have a kid by now, and you would probably be raising him or her alone when I go off.”
That gets her attention and she shifts closer with a frown and a huff that lets me know she is not impressed with me right now.
“Jace, don’t take this the wrong way, but part of what I loved about you, then and now, is that you’re so dedicated to your job and that it means a lot to you to defend and protect. So yeah, I would have been happy, because I knew that I would lose you for a while but you would always come back.”
That makes me feel like an ass, and I say so, watching her giggle with mirth and not a little amount of enjoyment at my expense.
“You were an ass, you know. You loved me and left me and then forced me to watch you screw other women,” she growls, slapping at my good shoulder with a huff.
“Hey, I never slept with any of those women. They were—”
“A means to an end. I know. I figured that out after Paulie started telling me about how you turned into a monk after I left. That’s good since I hate to think that I’ve kept myself all pure for you while you slept with everything around.”
I wince and it doesn’t escape her notice.
“You did, didn’t you?”
“No! I just. I got drunk one night after a really bad mission, and I…succumbed,” I admit.
Telling her that I was so hammered I still can’t remember a moment of any of it after a certain point probably won’t make a difference here, so I keep that to myself and smile instead.
“It wasn’t you, though, and I learned really quickly that it wasn’t something I wanted anymore. Chasing tail was great when I was young and not in love, but after you, after loving you and making the biggest mistake of my life, it was nothing. Forgive me?”
Her yes and the fact that she almost attacks me with teary kisses is all I was looking for and I fall asleep for a nap with a mile and a prayer that everything turns out okay so that I can hold on to the happiness I feel right now.
Chapter Nine
Trace
This happiness I feel is one of those doomed feelings you get when you buy a lottery ticket and get all giddy, all the while knowing that you probably haven’t even got one matching number.
I’m blissed out after a day spent sleeping, talking, and just enjoying the togetherness that being with Jace brings.
It will end, though, and not because I want it to but because I’m almost positive that when I tell Jace that my father still has me locked in that contract with Timothy, he’s going to be really mad at me.
The contract in question was something I signed voluntarily, thinking that I’d get closer to my father and maybe even Timothy, and that it would give me that chance to get the information I need.
Turns out I was wrong, and I now find myself locked down tight. I wasn’t too worried about breaking it when I was alone, but I do not want the Lanes losing money paying out a clause in that contract if I marry Jace, which I really want to do.
Now I’m stuck and desperate to tell him so that we can avoid those lies we promised never to tell each other. And yet I find myself stalling later that night as I get ready for bed.
Talk at dinner had been about Roman and the best way to get him home safely while still getting the goods on the Patriots.
No way was I going to even mention my little dilemma when a man’s life is hanging in the balance and my petty problems aren’t even half as bad. So maybe I’ll just fly back to DC sometime soon and beg Daddy to let me out of that contract.
Yeah, and maybe pigs will sprout wings and fly, and those little fairies I used to read about will just magically appear right before my eyes.
“Trace, you coming to bed?”
“Yeah, just a minute,” I yell from the bathroom, feeling like a total fraud and hating myself for the mistakes I’ve made out of pure apathy towards life.
Look at the way I joined the FBI after only a token amount of resistance. The truth is that I just didn’t care in the beginning and thought I’d either flunk out because I suck or they’d lose interest when it turns out Daddy wasn’t a crooked politician.
Then when the contract came around I was too tired and mired in my own misery to give much of a damn anyway. Now, years later, I feel like an ass and a liar because I should have mentioned this a long time ago, and by that, I mean this afternoon when talk turned to marriage and I remembered that damned piece of paper with my John Hancock on it.
Now I have to tell him. I just don’t want to be adding to his troubles with my petty bullcrap.
After slathering myself with enough moisturizer to slip through cell bars, I finally creep out of the bathroom, expecting Jace to have fallen asleep.
Instead he’s sitting up, waiting for me with narrowed eyes and tight lips.
“Talk.”
That’s all he says and yet I know exactly what he means. I should have realized that he knows me well and that all my signs are familiar to him. Obviously my discomfort isn’t foreign t
o him like I thought it may be with all the time that’s passed.
With a heavy heart I make my way to the bed and sink down on the edge, facing him with no small amount of trepidation and angst.
“When I left here I had to go back home and throw myself at my parents’ mercy. The thing is that Daddy was really very angry with me about leaving, and my mom, well she didn’t really care all that much, just followed Daddy’s lead in all things,” I explain, hating the sadness that comes into his eyes.
“It was my own fault. I could have stayed here and ignored the hurt and the pain. I just, I chose to go back, you know. But before I could go back home, Daddy made me promise to fulfill a business engagement that would solidify a relationship between himself and Timothy’s father, Charlie. I agreed. At that stage, I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to go home and see something…familiar.”
“Tracy, babe, I am so, so—”
“Don’t be,” I interrupt, placing a finger over his lips when he goes to apologize again. “I made my own choices, Jace. I wanted to go home and fall back into the old patterns because it was easy and safe and nothing like the happy, free life I had here. So I agreed and we got engaged and everything was fine. Till Daddy took note and realized I was starting to care again and they’d lose me. I signed a contract to marry Timothy. If I don’t, I have to pay him two million dollars to void the agreement. If I get married to someone else, the amount doubles. So, you see, I can’t marry you. Not for another two years when the contract is up,” I explain. “Will you be okay waiting two years?”
“No.”
His voice has gone hard, as has his facial expression, and I pull my hand away from his face with a wince. See, I knew he’d be mad about this. I’m mad at me about this and I’m the fool who did it because I thought I was too smart for them all.
Turns out I’m not and I never will be, so—
“Trace, babe, do not take this the wrong way, but I fucking despise your father,” he growls, pulling me forward and onto his chest. “We’ll pay them and get rid of any obstacles in our way. I’m not waiting two years to marry you, and I sure as fuck will not allow our babies to be born without my name.”
“But—”
“Shh, I can easily afford four million dollars without even feeling it. Pop and Ma gave me and Roman a trust fund when we turned twenty-one. That coupled with the money I make and I’m not a poor man. We’ll pay them and then nail them both to the wall, Trace.”
Have I mentioned that I love this man? After all is said and done, I can finally just relax and do what I always wanted to do with my life.
Be a good wife and mother and have the five kids I always wanted and learn to cook and bake and do all the things Jace made me believe I can do.
“I totally love you, Jace Lane,” I whisper tearfully, leaning in to kiss him softly, being careful not to jostle his injured shoulder.
He kisses me back and pulls me closer to him, making me aware of the very large erection tenting the sheets beneath my stomach.
“Jace, we can’t,” I murmur, kissing him more deeply even as my mind protests my actions.
I’m flipped onto my back with him looming over me, a salacious grin spread across his face as he starts pulling my T-shirt up my belly and up over my breasts.
“We can. We have to, Trace. I’ve waited four years to touch you again, babe. Please, don’t make me wait anymore. Let me make love to you the way I’ve been dreaming about,” he begs, making my heart flutter.
Jace may not be perfect; he may be arrogant and an ass at times, and a whole host of other things that lot of women would not appreciate. But right here, right now, he is everything I ever dreamed he’d be and so much more.
“Make love to me then, and make me yours,” I whisper, rising up to kiss him with more heat than I’ve allowed myself before.
He responds with a groan and claims my mouth in a fiery, passionate kiss that leaves me breathless and panting when he rips his mouth away and pulls my shorts free.
No bra or panties means I’m naked and vulnerable as he leans up on his uninjured arm and gazes down at me with so much longing, I feel my sex and womb constrict.
I want him inside me, filling my every empty space, claiming me in a way that only he ever has or ever can. The fire I see burning in his gaze is enough to start that slow slide of arousal, and I moan when he bypasses my lips and instead latches on to my nipple, groaning when the bud hardens beneath his wet tongue.
“Oh, oh,” I moan, gripping at his hair when the feelings coalesce right where his mouth is and shoot to my sex to start up a steady pulse of need that quickly becomes too much for me to handle.
He takes it slowly, ignoring my insistent cries and the way I’m pulling at his hair in an effort to get him to speed up.
“No, Trace. Slow. We’re making love,” he growls, switching to my untouched breast and torturing that bud with tiny bites and flicks of his tongue that I feel all the way to my clit where its swollen and pulsing between my folds.
I’m almost insensate with want and begging him to do something, anything, to ease the pain beating at my sheath when he gives one last lick to my swollen nipples and moves down, till he reaches my dripping folds and the little nub begging for his touch.
Jace was not kidding when he said slow, and I find this out when he starts gently licking down the outer lips of my labia before moving inward and repeating the process on the pink, inner folds cradling my nub.
“Jace! Uh, please. Please stop teasing me,” I plead, pulling at his hair when all he does is grin and swipe through my cleft, licking and sucking at the moisture gathered there for him.
“Mine to enjoy, Trace, and mine to make love to,” he growls again, making me groan and regret the other day when I insisted that we have sex and just get it over with.
It seems the man is hell bent on torturing me for that when he uses his thumbs to open me and sets his mouth directly over my entrance to suck at my sheath.
He keeps it up for so long that I’m crying real tears before he rears up over me and lines the head of his dick up with my portal.
“Love. Always love.” He groans, pushing in slowly so that I feel every inch of him filling me.
Jace is a big man, in every way, and I’m almost bursting. Once he fills me completely, breathing heavily, he gives me time to accustom myself to his girth and fit.
“Do you feel me, Trace? Do you feel how perfectly we fit together, babe? This is my body—mine—just as I am yours and only yours.”
I cry out and clutch at him, needing to see his eyes when he pulls out and thrusts back with a force that steals my breath and leaves me reeling with pleasure.
I’m thrusting back, too, though his size is not completely comfortable to accept after four years of celibacy. I love it, though, love every pleasure- and pain-filled moment of it till my body finally adjusts and lets off another stream of moisture to make his glide smoother.
We keep the pace slow, measured, and intense and never stop staring into each other’s eyes, not even when we both lose control and start fucking each other like wild animals.
This is what I wanted, what I needed the other day. It’s hard and raw and so intimate, and yet it’s not just sex as he reaches down and starts rubbing at my clit, pushing me hard and fast towards climax.
No, this is love I feel as he keeps stroking till I finally feel myself explode and contract around his still shuttling dick, my sex so tight and hot, it’s almost too much pleasure to bear.
The orgasm goes on as he keeps thrusting and rubbing at my nub and I’m senseless with bliss by the time I feel him stiffen above me and roar out his own release, his sex sputtering and shooting waves of warmth deep inside me.
When the pulses finally ebb and I’m able to open my eyes and focus again, it’s to meet his softly smiling eyes and the look of love I’d missed so long.
“I love you, Tracy. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Jace. Always.”
***
Jace
“I don’t want her to know. She’s already dealing with her father and that rat ex of hers. She does not need to know any of this and you know it,” I argue, glaring at Jared when the fool tries to talk over me.
“Jace, man, be reasonable. This is her job we’re talking about. She needs to report back to her superiors, and if she doesn’t let them know this she could face disciplinary action,” Miah rushes to say before I can cut him off, too.
“I don’t care, man. She’s not staying in the Bureau, anyway, so what does it matter?”
I don’t want her knowing what we just discovered about her father and mother, and not only because it would hurt her to discover that her mother is not the person she thought she was, but because I don’t want to burst the bubble she’s been in the last two days.
“Anyway, why would she need to report this to them? It’s not a matter of—”
“You know how this works. Any and all intel is to be reported, Jace. I think she deserves that opportunity to decide what she does and does not want to tell her people.”
“They are not her people! They’re holding her hostage till she gets them what they want,” I yell, running a hand through my hair as it all just sinks in.
I’ve had the best three days of my life as I reconnected with Trace and established that bond we shared before. It’s not the same, but I never expected it to be with the ways in which she’s changed and grown as a person. Honestly? I think I like this version more because she is less willing to take shit and never hesitates to call anyone out when she thinks they are wrong.
Now we just found out something really telling about Senator Mayfield that I am sure not even Trace knows. I do not want her finding any of this out now, not when we just got into our groove and started living as a loving couple.
This honeymoon period in our relationship is too great to ruin, and I sure as hell will not be the one to tell her that her mother and father are into some serious kink and the chances of him being part of the Patriots are slim.
“Jace, take it from me, be honest with your woman, always. This info will affect not only her, but that scope of her investigation, as well, and you know it. She needs it all to form her profile. Without this, she’s flying blind. Tell her,” Miah says, shaking his head at me when all I do is scowl.
JACE (Lane Brothers Book 3) Page 8
