by Peggy Bird
She tried hard not to look smug. “I terrified you? Really?”
“Well, maybe not terrified, but certainly intimidated. You’re missing the point of my comment. Are you really so insecure about the way people view you here?”
“No, not when I make good decisions about … stuff.”
“Meaning men?”
“Okay, yes, men.”
Reaching across the table, he took her hand again and wouldn’t let it go. “And how many men have you made decisions about since you moved to Ashland, Ms. Payne?”
“One, and look where it got me.”
“It got me an amazing night with a beautiful woman and dinner with her tonight. I hope, after all the time I’ve spent trying to find her again, it won’t be the end of what it gets me.”
“I don’t understand. Did you think if you found me you’d have an advantage you could use?”
“Juliet, I’m not the guy in Portland. I’m not trying to use you. Jesus, I’ve done everything except walk through town in the damn costume to see if you’d recognize me. Don’t I get some points for effort? I even tried to track down the kind of perfume you wear.”
“My perfume? Why?”
“I thought it would give me a clue to who you were, to help find you. I know it makes no sense, but I was desperate. Anyway, the two times I’ve seen you before tonight, you didn’t smell like you did on Halloween so it wouldn’t have helped.”
“I don’t wear this perfume during the day. It’s too heavy.”
“Put me out of this particular misery, will you? What’s it called?”
She shook her head, sighed, and looked at him. “Passion.”
“Ah, so it does.”
“Does what?”
“Give me a clue as to who you really are.”
Chapter 10
The walk back to her house was a little wetter and much quieter than the walk to the restaurant had been. When they reached the door, Julie rummaged in her purse for her keys, playing for time, trying to figure out what she wanted to say next.
Trace was standing close enough that she swore she could feel the heat of his body. She could certainly smell his cologne. She wasn’t sure she was ready to let either sensation go. But the evening was over. Wasn’t it? Shouldn’t it be?
She put the key in the lock.
There. That decided it. Evening over. I’m going into my house. Alone.
“Well, I guess this is goodnight. Thank you for dinner. I enjoyed it. I’d invite you in but …” She struggled to articulate a reason that made any sense.
Trace rescued her. “It’s okay. I’ve had a great evening, and I don’t want to push my luck.”
“Thank you again.”
“For dinner? You already thanked me.”
“No, not for dinner. For not making me feel stupid or paranoid because I was sure you were up to something underhanded.”
“For the record, I try not to be underhanded in any aspect of my life, but you’re welcome.” He paused for two heartbeats, then added, “Anything else you want to thank me for?”
She saw the look in his eyes and knew it would only take a bit of encouragement for him to kiss her. “Probably, but that’s all I’m willing to admit to at the moment.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “Not exactly what I was hoping for, but I’ll take it.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I’m glad I found you, Juliet. But I want you to be glad, too. I don’t want you to feel hunted and trapped. So, the next move is yours. If you want to, call me next week, and we can do something together. Or just talk. Whatever. It’s up to you.”
“Okay. Thank you. Again.” His hands were still on her shoulders. The memory of what those hands had felt like in other places came rushing back, making her shiver. She wanted them someplace else, any place, every place on her body.
The long conversation in the restaurant, which she’d hoped would make it possible to walk away—or force him to walk away—had, instead, made her want him even more. He’d been open, sincere, and hot as hell. If he didn’t leave soon, she’d make the next move, all right. She’d move so she could feel her body against his. She’d kiss his delicious mouth, feel his arms lock around her, taste the parts of him she’d missed in the motel room.
Door. Unlock door. Get inside. Before I do something impulsive. Again.
“Good night, Juliet. Sweet dreams.” He dropped another kiss on her forehead and went down the steps from her porch. She was almost safe on the other side of the door, when he turned back. “Wait. I haven’t given you my cell number. So you can call if you want.”
“I have your number at the bank.”
“Might be better to separate the personal and professional.”
“You’re right. Not such a good idea to call while we’re both working. Come on in while I get a piece of paper and something to write with.”
He took the steps to the porch two at a time as if afraid she might change her mind if he took too long.
And then he was in her space again. She wanted him to go before she could think any more about what had happened to shift the atmosphere between them from dark to light. From stop to go. So she could relegate to the back of her mind the niggling thought maybe Halloween hadn’t been a meaningless hookup after all. A little piece of information presently scaring her more than she was willing to admit.
When she gave him a pad of sticky notes and a pen, their fingers brushed. She saw his eyes darken, felt her breath stop and the blood leave her brain from the most minor of touches. She was getting in deeper by the second.
He wrote his number down, tore off the paper, took her hand, and slowly turned it palm up. After he placed the sticky note and the pen in her hand, he closed her fingers over them. “I don’t want you to lose this,” he said, his voice low and tight. “It’s important to me, very important, you use it.” He didn’t let go of her, and she didn’t pull her hand away. Nor did she break eye contact with him.
The urgency in his voice. The sincerity in his eyes. The heat from his hand. It was happening all over again. How could he do this to her when he had barely touched her?
“I better go,” he said, releasing her hand.
He had the door open, when she thought again of the only question she wanted him to answer. “Trace, what’s the real reason you tried so hard to find me?”
His hand still on the doorknob he said, “It’s what I said before. When I woke up the morning after Halloween and you were gone, the only thing I could think of was finding you. I didn’t want the night to be just some fantasy. I wanted it to be real. Wanted to make it real. And I needed to know if you felt the same.”
His words took her breath away. She believed him, absolutely and completely. Her last defense was gone. He’d been across the moat in the restaurant when he’d said he was vulnerable to her. Now he was inside the wall. And she knew it was where she wanted him to be.
“Maybe you shouldn’t go,” she whispered.
When he faced her, he looked bewildered. She almost laughed. She had spent the evening up until now pushing him away because she was confused. Now she was pulling him toward her, and it was his turn to be puzzled.
“What’re you saying?” he asked.
“You said I should make the next move. I’m making it. I want you to stay.” She dropped the pen and pad of sticky notes, took the few steps she needed to reach him, and slid her arms under his jacket and around his waist. “Please, Trace?”
He slammed the door shut. Tugging at her to get her closer, he fit her body to his. With one hand he tipped up her face. “Are you sure, Juliet? We’re not playing fantasy this time.”
“Yes, I’m sure. This time it’s the real us.” On tiptoes, clutching the front of his shirt to bring him closer to her, she pressed her lips to his mouth. The initial contact was soft, but within seconds the kiss was wild, hot, almost frantic, as if they were picking up where they’d left off on Halloween. She could feel his arousal against her belly, felt her insides melting
into a liquid heat, thrilling and exciting her.
Then he took control of them both, slowing them down, as if he wanted to savor her, make this sweet, hot contact between them last. His tongue tasted her top lip; his teeth nipped at her lower lip. She shivered at the pleasure of having his mouth on hers, of once again tasting the sheer maleness of him, feeling the sensuous slide of his tongue over hers.
When he broke away from the kiss, she made a soft sound of disappointment and tried to pull him back to her, but he resisted.
“Maybe … I don’t know … maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Tonight, I mean. Not that I don’t want to, but maybe we shouldn’t.” His whispered objections rang false to her.
“Why?” she asked. “We’ve already been down this road, and it led, you said, to the best night of your life.”
“I want you; you know that. But I don’t want you to have reservations or regrets. I don’t want to play hide and seek with you again if you get cold feet tomorrow or next week. And if I kiss you again, I won’t remember that, won’t care that it matters. So maybe I better leave until you have time to think this evening over.”
“I don’t need to think it over any more. You’ve answered every question I had. Said I was the one who’d decide what’s next. Didn’t you mean what you said?”
He kissed the tip of her nose, amusement in his eyes. “Yes, beautiful, I meant it. You get to decide.”
“Then stay. It’s what I want. Without reservations, without regrets, and no more hide and seek.”
“Jesus, Juliet, I thought you’d run out of ways to astonish me. I’ve never met anyone like you before.” His voice was husky, intense.
No one had ever looked at her the way Trace was looking at her now. As if she were the only woman on the planet, the only woman worth dying for, the only woman worth living for, the only woman who could satisfy him.
“Is that good?” she asked.
“Let me show you how good it is.”
He pulled her tight against him one more time, and his mouth came down hard on hers, demanding, taking what he wanted, the way she remembered him from Halloween. Responding to him, she raked her fingers through his hair, tangled her tongue with his, bit his lip. All the air was gone from her lungs, and she was sure she’d fall if he didn’t keep her upright.
It was like the first kiss in his motel room. Only better. This time she knew who he was, and she liked it even more. When the kiss ended, she sighed. “I thought I’d imagined how good this was.”
“Kissing?”
“Kissing you, holding you, the smell of you, the way you taste. It’s all as good as I remembered. Maybe better.”
“Let’s go see if we can jog your memory about anything else.”
“Masks and no lights this time, too?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
She’d never known a smirk could be sexy, but his definitely was. “You like being bossy in bed, don’t you?”
“We’re not in bed, but no, I don’t usually. Something about you brings it out in me. Does it bother you?”
“Actually, it kinda turns me on.”
“Good to know. Next time, I’ll bring the whips and chains.”
“That bossy definitely does not turn me on. And what makes you think there’ll be a next time?”
“Oh, there’ll be a next time, Juliet. But I got the message. Masks—yes. Whips and chains—no. How do you feel about handcuffs and rope?”
“Are we going to talk about going to bed, or are we going there?”
“We are definitely going to bed, beautiful, as soon as you lead me to it.”
Chapter 11
Not wanting to startle her into changing her mind, Trace forced himself to take his time, to remove his jacket and carefully place it on the back of a chair, then walk, not run, up the steps behind Julie. He hadn’t been sure she’d even see him, let alone make love with him again. And then in one short, heartfelt speech, he’d apparently found the words to convince her he was for real. And now what he’d thought earlier in the evening might never happen again was about to.
As soon as they got to her room, she began to shed her scarf. He stopped her hands. “Let me. I want to take all the wrapping off in the light so I can see every inch of you.”
“So you’ve decided about the lights, have you?” Although he felt her shiver at his touch, she sounded as if she was trying to maintain the same easy tone of conversation from downstairs.
He went along with her. “Yup. You said you had poor night vision. I want to be considerate.”
She laughed, but it sounded tight and nervous. “Oh, you remember that, do you? What else do you remember?”
He slid her jacket off her shoulders and dropped it on the floor. “Let’s see.” He unzipped her dress, leaned in, and kissed a spot behind her ear. “You like being kissed there.” He’d slipped her dress off and softly caressed from her neck and shoulders around to her back. “I remember your skin feels like silk.” He unhooked her bra and removed it. “And you like this.” He ducked his head and sucked at her nipple.
“Oh, God, you remember all the right things,” she said, her voice now thick and sultry.
He sat her on the edge of her bed and found the zippers on her boots. When they came off, she was left dressed in only her thong, much like the last time they were together.
He ripped at the buttons on the front of his shirt and yanked the shirttail out from his trousers. Taking it slow was now lost in his need to get naked and close to her. His shoes and socks were off, and he was about to unfasten his belt when she reached for the buckle. Looking down, all he could see was the glow of desire in her green eyes.
“Let me,” she whispered. The belt was open, then his fly unzipped and his trousers were gone, along with his boxers. “This is what I remember,” she said as she circled his penis with her fingers and began to rub, gently at first but more firmly as he got harder and larger from her touch.
Her eyes held his as she worked on him until suddenly, it was not only her hand on him, but also her mouth. Groaning, he pushed forward into her. She was rubbing, then sucking and licking, cupping his balls. It was like the most erotic of his dreams about her, and he never wanted her to stop, but if she didn’t, he’d come in her mouth. Not what he wanted. Not what he thought she wanted, either.
“Juliet, please, you need to stop.”
She looked up at him with a wicked smile. “Oh, did I remember wrong and you don’t like it?”
“I like it too much.” He took her hands and pushed her back onto the bed.
She sat up and brushed away his hands. “Wait. Condoms.”
He laughed as he snagged his trousers from the floor and rummaged around in the pocket.
“Do you always have protection handy?” she asked. “And why do you laugh when I ask? You did the last time, too.”
“I was laughing at myself for being a good Boy Scout this time, I guess. I don’t usually carry condoms around with me. It was wishful thinking tonight. On Halloween, it was because a college buddy thought it was funny to provide us with protection in case we scored with the women at your party.”
“And you did—with me.” She closed her eyes, and he could feel the slight stiffness in her body that said she wasn’t with him anymore.
He took her chin in his hand, and said, “Look at me, please.” When she did he said, “It was no hookup. I am not using you. You are not Greer. You’re Juliet. And you’re mine.” He kissed her with as much passion and intensity as he was capable of, trying to reinforce his words.
• • •
How could someone who seemed on the surface to be so conventional be so good with romantic words? Everything he’d said all evening had touched her in some deeply emotional way. He knew her secrets, yet said he wanted to see if they could take this connection between them further. He clearly wanted her, yet he let her make the decision to be together. And he said she was his.
Now he was commanding her with his eyes to look deep a
nd see there what she had heard him say. What she saw left her breathless. She couldn’t look away from the heat of his gaze, the desire she’d never seen so strong in any man’s eyes. It burned through any objections she might have. If she had any left.
“Let me love you, Juliet.” Tucking the condom under the pillow on his side of the bed, he slid in beside her. “Tell me what you need. What you want.”
“You. I want you. Any way I can have you. Every way I can have you. I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you in my living room. It hasn’t changed.”
“You’re very good at pretending otherwise.”
This time she kissed him. “Shh. Don’t remind me.”
“How ’bout I remind you of other things?” He skimmed his hand along her body, from her hip up, lightly touching, raising goose bumps along her side. When he reached her breast, he dropped his head. He cupped her breast and added the feel of his mouth on her nipple to the sensations his hand had produced. His tongue brought the nipple to a diamond-hard point, then his teeth gently scraped over it.
“Oh, yes,” she whispered. “I like that.”
His mouth closed over the other nipple, his tongue licking and his mouth sucking. Words weren’t possible anymore, only moans of pleasure.
Her hands roamed over his body, felt the muscles in his shoulders, in his back, flex and contract as he explored her. He’d pulled back enough to allow her access to the hard surface of his chest, softened with a cloud of hair as black as his eyes. Combing her fingers through the hair, she moved up his neck to feel the stubble of his beard and to nibble on his lips again.
So busy with her own explorations, she didn’t realize he had moved one hand to the delta of curls guarding her sex until she felt him cup her there. Her sharp intake of breath made him stop and ask, “Juliet?”
She lay back, her eyes half closed, and exhaled. Then said merely, “Oh, yes.”
It was all the permission he seemed to need. Gently he separated the folds of her sex, found the nub of her clitoris, and began to caress it with the heel of his hand, slowly at first but as her breathing accelerated, so did the speed of his hand. She rocked her hips, rubbing herself against his hand, reaching for release, her hands gripping the sheets. Then his fingers entered her, found the perfect place inside her, and with one touch, she saw stars. Stars, moons, fireworks, and heaven.
