by Zoe Dawson
“I’m not sorry for taking him outside, and I’m not taking the tablet back. It was my evil plan to get him addicted, and then you couldn’t say anything.”
He stepped up to her, unable to help himself. “You really like sticking your nose into our family business, don’t you, darlin’?”
“Don’t do that,” she whispered. “Don’t call me darlin’ in that tone of voice.”
“Why not?”
“Just…don’t,” she said.
His mouth went dry and, without meaning to, he leaned in closer. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, when he’d wanted to touch her, maybe from the moment he’d seen her standing next to her car as her eyes went over him in that assessing way.
His tone a little too quiet, a little too edged, he murmured, “I like calling you darlin’, especially after what you did for my brother. I haven’t heard him laugh like that…in years. I didn’t drag you in here to scold you. I wanted to say thank you. But I understand your reaction. I haven’t exactly been open-minded.”
He was so tired. He rubbed at his eyes, affected by the emotion he saw in hers. He stiffened when she cupped his jaw, her touch sending such pleasure signals to his brain, he thought he would short-circuit. He hadn’t been touched like this…like it was more important to comfort him than it was to bed him. He was used to women throwing themselves at him, and he welcomed it. This. This was something else entirely. This was the shit he avoided. But he couldn’t stop the avalanche she stirred in him. All that rock came tumbling down.
The muscles in his jaw tightened, and she immediately ran her thumb along the tenseness, soothing it away.
She blinked rapidly. “That’s good and you’re welcome. He’s wonderful,” she said, her voice breaking a little, and that was it. It was all he could take.
He slipped his hand over hers, turning his mouth so he could kiss her fingertips, and she made him crazy, trailing those delicate pads over his lips. “Raff,” he said roughly. She was already stepping into his arms as they went around her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he buried his face there as she held him.
It had been so long since he’d been comforted, so long since someone had just given him a simple, sincere, heartwarming hug. He wrapped his arms around the middle of her back and squeezed.
“You are an amazing brother,” she whispered. “A very good man.”
He sighed and they stood that way for several minutes, just breathing each other in, holding each other tight.
Feeling raw and exposed, she released him, then looked up at him while every nerve in his body was stretched to the limit. That tender look from her rattled him.
Avoiding her gaze, he brushed her cheek with his thumb, then carefully looped a strand of hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes, and he struggled with the throbbing thickness that made his heart pound and his lungs refuse to function.
She captured his hand this time and kissed the palm. He inhaled sharply and cupped the back of her neck. Murmuring her name, he covered her mouth in a kiss that set off all his alarms. A sudden, frantic need seemed to travel from one to the other, and she clung to him, opening her mouth beneath his, her lips knee-meltingly soft.
He widened his stance, holding her securely while he kissed her like he had never kissed another woman.
They parted and she looked up at him as if she was fighting a losing battle. He was fighting one of his own. He shifted his hold, dragged her against him again, resealing his hot, hungry mouth against hers in a kiss that hurt it was so good.
The kiss went on and on as he vaguely heard his brother and sister get home, get ready for bed, and the house quiet.
In the silent darkness, her voice silky in the shadows, she said, “Come on. Let me hold you for just a bit.”
Guys didn’t want to admit how good that felt. It was a sign of weakness that not many males talked about, but deep down it was a basic human need. A need fueled by loneliness, of so many years of being the responsible one, taking the burden—one he gladly handled for his father, two brothers, and sister.
She folded down onto his bed and he lay down next to her. She wrapped him up in a powerful, enveloping embrace. Cuddling him tightly against her, his face buried in her neck, she started to stroke his back. “Go to sleep, Trace. Rest. I’ll get up if he needs you. I promise. Don’t worry.”
She shifted to take more of his weight, but he tightened his hold on her, his voice strained when he whispered against her temple. “You don’t have to do that. This is enough.”
But even as the words left his lips, he knew deep down that it wasn’t enough. Not this woman he’d just met, who had somehow twisted around his heart.
Chapter 9
Rafferty opened her eyes and almost swallowed her tongue. Holy cow. She still had her arms wrapped around Trace, and she was still tightly against him, only there was a faint light brightening the room. As in, it was morning and she’d spent the night in Trace Black’s bed.
In a small town no less, where anyone and everyone knew everyone’s business. It was probably not going to hurt his reputation and, really, she was only here for as long as it took to fix her car. She shouldn’t worry about what people thought, except she did, already. Even with those thoughts, she looked at his sleeping face, how peaceful he looked, all that out-there male energy shut down for regeneration.
But there was no denying that Trace was all man, as evidenced at the moment by the hard bulge against her thigh that happened to be between his legs. Morning hard-on. She knew all about them, but didn’t remember ever feeling this…agitated or aroused.
He’d kissed her. She remembered that quite vividly.
Her first look at a scruffy, early-morning Trace left her with no words; they evaporated like morning mist under a rising sun.
And her temperature, goodness help her, was rising right along with it.
He should have had the decency to look like hell, but instead he looked like he’d been prepped for one of those Ralph Lauren I-wake-up-looking-amazing bed ads. She would have resented the ease with which he made scruffy so damn sexy, except she was too busy fighting off the waves of lust from just looking at him.
It was completely strange to want Trace and to also feel this wonderful connection to him. She wanted his hands all over her, him deep inside her. That was her body talking, her head was telling her she was stupid, which her body was playing against, the traitor. Her heart was trying to remain neutral, but she hated to tell it that it had already lost that battle. There was no neutrality where Trace was concerned—or his brothers or his sister for that matter.
She also was aware of the score, and, since she was, she could take the next step mentally, knowing that if anything happened between them, it would not be all physical. It was clear to her that he was finding it as difficult as she was to keep his distance. Adding sex into the mix was always a game changer.
She wanted that with Trace and was a bit surprised that he hadn’t made a move in that direction, considering his reputation. He hadn’t so much as touched her inappropriately, even when she might have lost control last night. His reaction…it wrecked her how much he cared about his brother, took care of him. But his overprotectiveness was hiding something that was hurting inside him. It would be everything if he would open up about that. But Trace was a contradiction, someone she hadn’t expected.
She tried to shift out of his loose embrace, but his lids lifted, his eyes sleepy, almost electric blue. He stared at her as if he wasn’t sure if he was awake or dreaming. “Howdy,” he said, his voice husky and rough.
“Morning.”
“Is it?”
“Dawn, anyway.”
“I have this internal clock. No matter how tired I am, I usually wake up at sunrise.”
She somehow managed to drag her gaze away from his face to look, probably somewhat blankly, over at the clock. His hands were on her waist, her leg still between his, and that bulge still there. “It’s six,” she said.
“I th
ink it’s because that’s what time they got our butts out of bed in the marines. It’s ingrained.”
“I like sleeping in, eating croissants, and drinking mocha lattes. I don’t think I would respond well to reveille. That bugle might end up somewhere…awkward and painful.”
A smile played around his lips. “Grounds for at least disciplinary action, I’m afraid. They don’t serve croissants and mocha lattes in the marines, princess.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I never went into the marines.”
He made a cute scrunched-up face. “Naw, a buzz cut wouldn’t look good on you, commander.”
Why did he have to be so damn charming? And really, should he still have his hands on her? And why wasn’t she moving away? Sure, he had her tangled up in him, but if she really wanted to get away from him…She gave up the pretense.
“Trace, this isn’t a good idea.”
“What? Cuddling?”
“You know what I mean.”
He sighed. “Just so we’re clear. You mean getting physical.”
“Yes, that.”
“You interested?”
“No, not in being one in a string of beauties.”
“I don’t juggle women, Rafferty. It’s one at a time, and I’m not with anyone right now.”
“What about the blonde?”
“Melissa? No, she’d like that, but we’re just friends. I’m not sleeping with her or anyone for that matter. I’ve been attending to things at home.”
“I guess I shouldn’t have bought into the rumors, then.”
“That’s the trouble with a small town. They like to talk. I’ve been back for two years and I’ve been busy, but there’s no one. You interested now?”
“I don’t know. I’m really attracted to you, but maybe we should just get to know each other a little better.”
“I could do that. How about you? You seeing anyone?”
“No. I’m just recently divorced.”
“You were married? How long?”
“Three years.”
“What happened?”
“He cheated on me, repeatedly, and I didn’t know.”
“What an asshole. I don’t cheat, Rafferty. When I’m with someone, I’m only with them.”
“Two weeks won’t be that long for you.”
“We already have a shelf life, huh?”
“Seems that way.”
“You’re not at all freaked out that you’re here in my bed. My brother and sister will be getting up soon, and Eden’s going to know that you didn’t come home last night. I don’t expect she gossips much. But I don’t know for sure. This is a small town, Rafferty. People will talk. They talk about me all the time, but that’s understandable. I used to give them something to talk about.”
She shrugged. “I don’t live here, Trace, and I’m not staying. We’ve established that. As soon as you put in my new transmission, I’ll be gone. So what if they do talk? Nothing happened, well, except for that kiss.”
“Except that kiss? Doesn’t sound like I tried hard enough there. Maybe I should give it another shot.”
“Trace…,” she said softly. She had no idea what she would have said because he didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence. He rolled over on top of her, and she gasped as his mouth landed heavily on hers, no buildup, no teasing, just hard, urgent lips. Her hand pressed flat against the heavy muscles of his chest, the heat of him enticing, wishing his shirt was gone. She bunched the fabric in her fist.
His mouth was hot, so hot. He tasted wild and he slipped his tongue into her mouth. They sucked on each other, and a deep sensual groan broke the silence, not sure if it was him or her.
She molded her hands over his broad shoulders, sinking into the hard muscle, before sliding along the back of his neck. He was sure this time it was he who groaned as she tunneled her fingers into all those thick, dark waves. He pressed his hips into hers, growling just a little as she scored his scalp. That bulge she’d discovered still hard and distracting as she clutched at his head to keep his mouth on hers.
She was all but coming apart at the seams as he continued to drive her wild. He broke the kiss, and in the early-morning light his blue eyes looked nothing short of stunned. Tension hummed between them.
“Trace…”
“Yeah,” he said, taking her mouth again, only this time his kiss was soft, sapping her will, seducing her all over again.
She was powerless against this, against him. She couldn’t push him away. Especially when she didn’t want the kiss to end. She closed out thoughts about the future, tried hard to just enjoy this with him for as long as it lasted.
She kissed him back, her fingers still in the soft strands of his hair, rubbing it against her fingers and the palm of her hand. She’d stop this madness, soon. Yeah, soon.
He slowed the kiss, then finally ended it. He raised his head and looked down at her, smiling. And it was so normal and natural to be with him, even when she barely knew him. She only knew that he was the kind of man that she hungered for. One who cared and was present for the ones he loved. So, this would be her first fling, a small-town fling if she decided she wanted to take it further than this amazing kissing.
“Trace!”
They both started and he’d barely rolled off her when the door blew open, and Reese said, “What the hell? Are you sick? Get your lazy…holy shit.” He stared at Rafferty, completely floored.
“What’s wrong with him, Reese?”
Rafferty groaned when she heard Cadie’s voice. Then she was at the door and her mouth dropped open. His eighteen-year-old sister was gaping at her.
Trace said, “Dammit all to hell. Can I ever get any privacy in this madhouse?”
“Hi, Rafferty,” Reese said after he pushed Cadie’s mouth together with his index finger and ushered her away from the door. He closed it softly.
They looked at each other and burst into laughter.
While Trace jumped in the shower, she took a fortifying breath and opened the door. She walked out to the kitchen. Reese was in the living room with the ironing board set up, pressing one of his shirts. Geez, did these guys have to constantly run around the house half-naked?
“There’s coffee in the pot, and Cadie made some super-fine blueberry muffins there in the basket. Good if you heat it up with butter.”
He walked over to her and opened a cupboard, getting her a mug. He handed it to her and she looked up at him.
He grinned. “You okay?”
“I think so. Does he bring girls here often? Is that why you’re not all that affected?”
“No, that’s why we’re a little floored,” Cadie said. “He never brings girls here, and he hasn’t been out to…ah…”
“Tomcat,” Reese supplied, “for over two years.”
That made her feel marginally better.
“Besides,” he said, softly. “I like you.”
“So do I,” Cadie said.
“Thanks.” Rafferty reached for one of the muffins, but Reese took it out of her hand, cutting it and slathering butter on it. He popped the two halves into the microwave, winking at her. He went back over to the ironing board, his broad, smooth back thick with muscle.
Cadie sidled up to her. “So, do you have a minute to talk?”
“Yes, look, I’m sorry about all this…”
“That’s not what I want to talk about and I know all about sex, Rafferty. Believe me. Trace, Reese, and Harley have been pursued since they figured out what to do with”—she glanced over at Reese and lowered her voice—“their private parts. And, I’m in high school with teenage boys who think about it all the time. ’Nuff said there.”
The microwave beeped and Rafferty reached in and got out her hot muffin. “Okay…what did you want to talk about?” She sipped her coffee and Cadie led her over to the island and one of the chairs.
“Well, as you can see, I am handicapped with three brothers who can’t even talk about unmentionables. At least mine.”
“
My ears are bleeding,” Reese murmured.
“Ha-ha,” Cadie said, rolling her eyes. “Every time one of them takes me for clothes, they shuffle their feet and say I look great in everything because they are worried I’ll get upset.”
“Don’t answer her if she asks you if her butt looks fat in anything,” Reese said.
Cadie picked up Reese’s clean balled-up socks off the counter and threw them at him. He dived for them as if the socks were a long ball, ran to the TV, and did an end zone dance with wonky knees.
Trace came down the hall, and Reese said, “Go long.” Trace immediately backed up and Reese lobbed the socks at him. Trace caught them and they high-fived as Reese scooped up his shirt and went down the hall.
“See what I have to put up with?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Anyway, I was wondering if you’d drive over to Kalispell and go to the mall with me. Help me pick out a homecoming dress for the dance.”
“I would love to,” Rafferty said.
“Cadie, bus,” Reese called from the front of the house.
“Shoot, I gotta go. See you later. Bye, Trace.” She ran over and kissed him on the cheek and punched Reese in the gut as she passed him before she ran out the door.
“That kid has quite a right jab.” Reese took his coat off the peg and shrugged into it. He grinned as he grabbed a muffin out of the basket. “I think she could be a contender,” he said in a Rocky voice. “See you in two days, brother. Bye, Rafferty.”
“Don’t do anything stupid and stay safe,” Trace responded. Reese gave him a thumbs-up and went out the back door, and she heard his car start up.
“He stays at the fire station when he’s working?” Rafferty took a bite of her warm muffin and closed her eyes. The rich butter had soaked into the muffin and it melted in her mouth. That girl could cook.
“Yes. He works two days on and four days off. It really helps now that Harley is home and needs extra care.” Trace sat down next to her and sipped his coffee. He reached out and brushed a crumb from the side of her mouth.
