by Laura Beege
“What are you trying to figure out?”
“How I can like you when... you know.”
“No, I don't.” He flexed his hands and I knew he had at least an idea what I meant. I didn't want to piss him off, though. Moreover, I didn't want to make him angry in the hallway where anyone could easily hear us.
“Can we talk about this in my room?”
“You don't want me to touch you but you're inviting me to your bedroom?”
I swallowed, failing to ignore the ideas of what Trace and I could do in my bed that rushed into my mind. “I want you to touch me. That's part of the problem. So you better get into my bedroom and talk to me unless you never want to touch me again.”
That did the job. Within moments of opening the door for him, Trace was in my room and fell down on the chair that still stood next to my bed. I firmly closed the door and plopped down across from him, the mattress dipping in under my weight. He already leaned forward and reached for my knees but thought better of it in the last moment.
I took a deep breath. “Okay. I like you touching me and me touching you. Very much. God, you have no idea how exciting it is to feel your hands all over... well, anyway, you touch me and my mind goes blank. I can't think anymore and I do what my body tells me feels good, but I shouldn't be doing that. You might be right. I might not turn back into the person I was, but I don't want to risk it all. I don't want to let go of all my control for a guy who's rude and angry the one minute and sweet and caring the next. I'd be betting against myself just because you're hot and I love it that you take such good care of me.”
“I can do slow.”
“Hm?”
“That's what you're asking for, isn't it? You don't want to rush into anything because you're afraid you might fall apart if you let go and I turn out to be a complete asshole after all.”
I couldn't help but smile at him. How he'd managed to get exactly the right messaage from my ramble was beyond me. “Yes,” I breathed.
“I act like one a lot, but I'm not an asshole. I'll prove it to you, Kitty. I’m already running after you. I never did that before, but I want to be good enough for you.”
“Sometimes I think you’re too good for me,” I sighed.
“You’re wrong. I’m not an asshole, but I’m not a good person either. I’m not like you, trying to do what’s right, trying to be honest and nice.” He shrugged and stared at the floor like he could find a treasure there if he looked long enough.
Not knowing what to say, because I didn’t know if I could argue with him, I reached for his hand and pulled at it while crawling backwards onto the bed. He came willingly, kicking his shoes off on the way and laying down beside me. Maybe we both weren’t meant to be very good at being nice people. Maybe that could be okay, though. Holding onto him, I could let myself believe that somehow we could help each other. That we could get through being not-so-good people together.
Trace held our entwined hands up to his face. “This much touching is okay then? You can still think?”
“I’m not sure,” I smiled, “Strangely, my thoughts are more optimistic than usual.” I turned my head in his direction and gave his hand a short squeeze. He pulled my hand closer and kissed each of my knuckles, sending my stomach through a rollercoaster. I sucked my lower lip in and tried to come up with a question that would keep his mouth busy before my mouth would rise to the task. “What’s the name of your band?”
“Alice +3.”
“Who’s Alice?” I asked, turning on my side and withdrawing my hand from his so I could look at him.
“It’s this little girl who fell into a rabbit hole and landed in a strange world,” he grinned and turned as well. It brought his body closer to mine, the warmth around him seemed tangible and if I tilted my head just right, I could bring my nose against his. I needed more questions unless I wanted to finally give in to my fantasies, pull him on top of me and finally show this wall some action from this side of it.
“Why did your parents break up?” I asked.
“Mum did drugs. Dad cheated on her with my math teacher,” he answered straight-faced. “Why did yours?”
I couldn’t stand looking at Trace when I talked about my father, but I wanted him to know at least part of the truth. “Mom left because Dad is a criminal. Not in the shoplifting, pickpocketing kind of way. Influential, wealthy… At least he was, before Mitch – he was always very close to us, a good friend – ratted him out to the cops.”
“Am I lying next to a mafia breed?” he asked with laughter in his voice, not realizing how close he hit to home.
“No. Then you would be lying next to my former best friend, Meredith.” I risked a peek at him. He studied my face and my hair and my everything with a tight smile that only took a few moment to disappear.
“Shit. You’re not joking.”
“No, I’m not. I grew up with hired guns, enemies around each corner and dirty money. You deserve to know that before you doubt being too good for me again. My father has been in prison for almost a year now and I spent that time in a very catholic foster family. Before that, however, I was the kind of daughter you’d expect from a drug lord. I was a vindictive, selfish bitch who liked being treated like a princess. I mean, in some circles I practically was a princess. I refused to step up to the throne when Dad was arrested, though. That life comes with a lot of prices I’m not willing to pay. Mom must have realized the same thing when she left.”
Trace rolled on his back again and blinked at the ceiling, wiping his hands over his face and muttering a string of curse words, most of which I didn’t understand. But I understood that I crossed the point of no return. Not only between us, but whatever he thought now could influence my future here. “I’m sorry I dropped that bomb on you,” I mumbled.
“Don’t be. At least a lot of things make sense now,” he said in a voice too shallow for his words. “That’s why you can mess up a guy’s face. Why you can’t stand to be around drugs.”
“Yes,” I mouthed, too scared to drop more details on him and eventually chase him off.
He sighed and got up, the bed creaking beneath him. So much for chasing him off. I already succeeded at that - because of who my father was, because of who I was. I watched him step towards the door and a second later the lights went out in the room. I blinked into the darkness but felt him fall down next to me before I saw the shadow of his silhouette. Just to be sure, I stretched my fingers to feel for him next to me. They collided with his hard chest.
“Looking for something?” he chuckled and I felt the vibration of his voice under my touch.
“You’re still here.” I flattened my hand against his chest and tapped my fingers against the soft fabric of my grey shirt. He didn’t vanish into thin air.
“You thought I'd leave?”
“That's what people usually do.”
Trace cradled my hand in his and kissed my palm before scooting over and folding an arm around my waist. Yes, it still sent a thousand static daggers through my body but with the way he tucked my head in under his chin and how his hand rested just between my shoulder blades, I wasn't turned on, I felt secure.
“I'm not people,” he mumbled against the top of my head.
“I noticed,” I sighed and let my eyes flutter close, succumbing to a warm and dreamless sleep wholly surrounded by Trace.
The buzzing of my phone woke me while it was still dark outside. I was tangled up in Trace's limbs and I had to stretch my middle finger until it stung to slide the phone into my palm. Even with my movement and the screen lighting up the room, Trace was fast asleep, making his weird squeaking noises. Knowing he was usually insomniac, I smiled at his relaxed features before slipping into the hallway and finally picking up Wesley's call.
“It's four in the morning, Wes,” I murmured, my voice still thick from sleep.
“I know. I'm sorry,” he answered. “I just needed to talk to you.”
“What's wrong?” I asked and sank down against the door of hi
s room, so I could keep an eye on my own in case I woke up Trace.
“Did you sleep with Trace?”
“What?” My voice caught in my throat. “Why would... what?”
“Vince just told me you two were practically sewn to each other at Monica's today. That he took you up to his room. Tony, please tell me you haven't slept with him.”
“I haven't,” I whispered. “What's it to you anyway?”
“He's fucked up, alright? Everybody knows. Be his friend if you want to for fuck's sake, but don't let him wrap you around his finger. I like you far too much to put you through that kind of shit. Vince should have ripped you two apart instead of stuffing himself with cake.”
“Wesley,” I said in my smoothest voice to calm him down, even though my insides were spinning like a hurricane. “I'm not stupid. I know that he sleeps around. I know he's not perfect. Neither am I. But I trust him and that's my decision to make. If I choose to sleep with him and he rips my heart out and stomps on it, I'm going to deal with it.”
“Tony, you don't understand.”
“No. You don't. I like being taken care of but I don't like being told what to do. I might be struggling, but I'm still able to live my own life.” I didn't know where that sudden strength came from, but I wanted to pat myself on the shoulder for putting my foot down like that. “I make my own decisions and they might turn out to be mistakes, but they're going to be my mistakes.” Just hours ago, Trace told me it was okay to make mistakes. I still didn't want to make them, but if I would, I'd rather they came from my own doing instead of someone dictating my life. I had made those sort of mistakes before and I regretted them more than others.
“Just trust me on this one. Let me save you from a lot of pain. Turn your back on Trace and run in the other direction.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I said coolly.
I heard Vince call out from the background, “Sweet dreams, Kitty.” and Wes sighed, “See you tomorrow, yes?”
“Yes,” I said, forcing down the questions about what Wes and Vince were doing at four in the morning. “Sleep tight.”
I hung up and used the bright display to find my way back to bed where Trace lay just like I left him. My gaze travelled over his face and I jumped, managing just barely not to scream at the sight of his wide pupils staring up at me. “Jesus,” I gasped.
“Important call?” he asked and pushed himself up. I clicked my phone off and switched the bedside lamp on instead.
“I’m not sure,” I said and pulled my knees up, “Wesley just told me not to sleep with you.”
“Is he jealous?”
“Why would he be jealous?” I asked because my brain wasn’t quite awake enough to make a quick connection. As far as Trace was concerned, Wes could very well be jealous. Dammit. As far as Trace was concerned, Wes was straight. “I mean, he’s practically like a brother to me,” I added quickly.
“Fuck. And I’m his brother. Does that make me like a brother to you, too?” he grinned, not frazzled by the idea of his brother trying to make me break things off. His light mood rubbed off, though, and I leaned forward, smiling, my leg landing on his thigh.
“No but you can be my brother’s hot, older friend.”
“And here I was, thinking you’re my little brother’s hot, younger friend,” he grinned, his fingers slipping in under the leg of my leggings.
I tried not to flinch but he chose to touch the one spot that wouldn’t turn me into a puddle of hormones anytime soon. I tried to concentrate on him calling me hot and ignore the pain. It didn’t work.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. That’s just the knee I used to smash Reese’s nose. It’s a little bruised,” I said.
Trace rolled the hem of my pants up until all my knee’s blue and green glory was exposed. His fingertips lightly brushed my skin and I bit down on my lip to keep quiet. “You said he didn’t hurt you.”
“I did this to myself, Trace.”
He made a grumpy sound, entirely unhappy with my answer. I guessed he wanted someone to blame and get angry at but the bruised knee was my fault and he wouldn’t be able to convince me otherwise. He must have known that because he didn’t push further. His fingers slid into the hollow of my knee to carefully lift my leg off his lap and he turned until my foot was between his knees.
“He won’t get you,” he rumbled and lowered lips to the stretched skin on my knee. I waited for the pain to shoot through my leg but he was careful enough to evoke a faint tingling only and to send my stomach into a loop. “You’re mine,” he said and placed the next kiss on the inside of my knee. He hooked his fingers into the leg of my pants and pushed it further up, baring my thigh for his mouth to travel higher. “God, if your skin tastes this good, I can’t wait to kiss your-”
“Trace!” I cut in before he said something that would make me rip his clothes off.
“What? You don’t want to hear the truth?” He grinned against the sensitive skin on the inside of my thigh and sucked it into his mouth. All breath fled my lungs in a loud sigh. His hot tongue on my skin sent me over a cliff and I gripped my sheets for dear life.
“I want…” What did I want? “You to kiss me, please.”
“Say that again,” he ordered while his kisses travelled upwards. When my pants wouldn’t stretch any further he ignored the fabric and nestled his mouth against my leg anyway, only two inches from my center, grazing my thigh with his teeth and luring a soft moan from my throat.
“I want you to kiss me, please.”
“Where?” He slipped a thumb into my pants, over my hipbone. I bucked against him.
I was terrible at taking it slow. Always have been. That one small touch, those few small kisses were not enough. I needed to feel him closer. All of him.
“I hate playing games,” I said and pulled his face up to mine, crashing my mouth into his. His tongue was past my lips in seconds and I slipped into his lap, folding my arms around his shoulders to press myself against him. He moaned into my mouth and I tasted his breath. He tasted as good as he smelled.
With an arm around my waist he adjusted our position. My heart hammered against my ribcage as we moved together and our hips collided as violently as our mouths. The hard fabric of his jeans scraped against me and I had to break out of the kiss to get air. “Who sleeps in jeans?”
“Men, trying to prove they’re not perverted assholes,” he grinned and lifted my shirt. For a moment I was worried about the very comfortable but very ugly bra I was wearing, but Trace looked at my breasts and let out a whistle. I laughed and he grinned, not lifting his gaze one bit.
“Makes sense, Mister modest gentleman.” I grabbed the hem of his shirt and took it off, gladly accepting his help when it came to lifting it over his head and arms. “Thanks. I’ll keep that,” I grinned and tossed the shirt towards a pile of my own clothes.
“Are you undressing me to get my clothes?” He cocked his eyebrows and put his hands around my mid. His long thumbs stretched up and brushed the underside of my breasts, just where the bra ended and my naked skin began. I swallowed and tried to concentrate on words and on not pushing my breasts into his large hands.
“Uhm…” I looked down at his hand, making its way up to the strap of my bra and shuddered. I freaking shuddered. “I’m not really, technically, you know,” I blabbered as he slipped the straps off my shoulders and kissed the newly exposed skin. “What was the question?”
“Is this too fast?” he whispered against my collarbone and unsnapped the clasp of my bra. It fell down to my elbows and I tossed it aside. I didn’t want to think about fast and slow, and wrong and right. I didn’t even want to waste my breath on words. I ran my hands into his hair before covering his mouth with mine. Something that felt this good could hardly be a mistake.
He cupped his hands over my breasts, and I pushed closer to him, increasing the pressure on my soft flesh. I gasped into the kiss as he pinched one of my nipples and squirmed against him. The space between my legs was un
bearably hot and I knew how to get release. I rubbed against him, impatient to feel him. One hand still on my breast, Trace began pulling down my pants but when he realized that taking them off was no piece of cake with the way I was straddling him, he flipped me over and his hardness pressed against my heat just before he sat back and got rid of the rest of my clothes.
I thought I’d feel insecure or embarrassed, naked in front of him with my legs propped open because he knelt between them, but I felt bubbly with anticipation. I’ve been literally dreaming about this for a while now.
“You okay?” he asked, looking straight at me.
“Perfect. Now get out of your clothes already,” I grinned and sat up on my elbows. No matter what Wes or Sierra or anybody else thought, this was actually fun.
I wasn’t losing control. I was in control.
Trace shook his head no and pulled my face to his for another kiss.
Well, if he didn’t want to take his pants off, I would. I slipped my hands down and snapped his jeans open, slipping a hand inside. He groaned and pressed into my hand. He was hot and hard and I was about to let my hand move over him, as his hand found mine and pulled it out of his pants. I started to protest and look for answers on his face but he moved down my body and the second I opened my mouth, he pressed his against my heat.
“Oh god!” I gasped as his tongue flicked over my throbbing clit. I dug my nails into my pillow and was surprised I didn’t draw feathers.
I let my head fall back and pushed against him as he kissed me and sucked my clit into his mouth. Even his breath hitting my folds sent ripples of desire through my hips. I curled my free hand into his hair and held him in place.
Trace groaned between my legs. The idea of him finding pleasure in licking me made my head spin. I’d met too many guys who treated oral sex like a chore. I lifted my hips and Trace’s tongue ran up my heat. I moaned, tightening my grip in his hair. Again, he groaned. Apparently, he liked it when I pulled his hair. He pushed his tongue into my hot entrance and my world crumbled to pieces. I screamed his name and pulled his hair only encouraging him as the fire washed through my body until I was all burned up and fell back into the pillow, panting.
