by Skye Jordan
Trace’s head was spinning; his heart was beating hard and fast. His emotions were tangled in a knot so high in his chest he thought they’d strangle him.
“I wanted you,” she yelled. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you. That’s why I haven’t gone on a second date with anyone else. Because I want you. I knew sleeping with you was a bad idea. I knew I wasn’t experienced enough for you. I was sure I would disappoint you, and I couldn’t face another failure, so I forced myself to ignore what I wanted. What I needed. Just like I’ve always ignored my own wants and needs. All finding out about David did was push me to make a decision I didn’t have the guts to make before.”
She pushed her hands into her hair and turned in a circle. When she turned back, tears glimmered in her eyes, and all Trace’s emotions tugged tight until he couldn’t breathe—love, hate, desire, anger, frustration, confusion . . .
“What difference does it make to you anyway?” She threw her arms out to the sides. “You got the fuck you were looking for.”
He dropped his hammer and grabbed her arms. “I got way more than the fuck I was looking for, goddammit.” He hauled her in and kissed her hard. She made a frustrated sound and fisted her hands against his chest. He jerked her back, yelling, “I got the fuck I can’t stop thinking about. I got the fuck I want again and again and again.”
When he kissed her this time, her mouth softened, and Trace pushed her lips open with his tongue, then tasted her with the hunger that had been building all damn day. Avery swayed into him, tilted her head, and licked his tongue with a whimper in her throat.
Fire exploded through Trace, and he growled into her mouth. He released her arms, ripped off his gloves, and stroked his hands down her body, then back up beneath the skirt of her dress. He moaned as his hands slid up her warm thighs, gripped her tight ass, and pulled her hips into his erection, grinding against her.
Avery broke the kiss on a whimpered, “Yes,” wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him as if he were water in the desert. The alcohol in his blood was singing, and he was absolutely sure he’d never wanted any woman more than he wanted Avery right this minute.
He pushed her panties over her hips and groaned at the feel of her hot skin in his hands. “Fuck, need you.”
“Yes,” she breathed, fisting his hair, locking her arms around his neck.
Trace lifted her off her feet. She kicked off her panties and wrapped her legs around his hips. He didn’t remember moving until her back hit the wall, and he sank his hips into hers, moaning at the feel of her soft, soft sex giving to his hard cock.
Her hands fell from his hair to rip at his jeans. She was panting, lips wet, eyes hazed with the same crazy need bubbling through Trace’s veins. He struggled for a condom in his wallet, ripped it open with his teeth, and pushed it on while Avery swept her skirt aside.
And when he stroked his fingers between her legs, wet heat swallowed them. “Perfect.”
He replaced his hand with his cock, and as he pushed into her, Avery sipped a breath, rocking her hips toward him. With her thighs in his hands, Trace pulled her wide and watched his cock push inside her. And, God, it was beautiful. Her hands gripped his forearms, head dropped back against the wall. He pulled back, and thrust again, and again and again. Until he filled her.
Pressure spread through his cock, his balls, his pelvis. Avery’s fingers bit into his skin. He fought to slow down, to make this wild passion between them last. Wished he could do this for hours in fifty different positions. Sliding inside her, feeling the slick, hot walls of her tight pussy give, open, then close around him with that delicious squeeze was absolute ecstasy.
Her head rolled side to side, mouth open. “Need it, need it.”
He used his body to pin hers against the wall, released one thigh, and slid his hand under her hair to grip the back of her neck. He pressed his forehead to hers. “I want you looking at me when I give you what you need.”
She obeyed, and the raw desire flooding her expression went a long way toward healing whatever wound had ripped open inside him. He hoped he could bring her enough pleasure to do the same for whatever pain he’d caused her.
Holding her gaze, he looked into her eyes as he pulled all the way out and slowly thrust.
“Oh, God.” Her lids fluttered closed, and her back arched as she lifted into him.
“Fuck, baby, that is so good.”
He thrust again, and her mouth dropped open, and that look crept into her eyes, the one she got just before she came. “You want it?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He quickened his pace but kept the thrusts full and deep and strong, tip to balls, and encouraged her to meet him by using her thighs to pull her into the thrust. Which also helped him control the speed, helped him hold it off until she was writhing and shaking.
“Want it, Avery?” he whispered.
“Yes. Please.”
Goddamn, there was something about hearing her so needy that just rushed through his blood, and he hammered into her, slamming her back against the wall. When she broke, her pussy squeezed his cock so hard, Trace gritted his teeth to keep his own orgasm in check.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck . . .”
He gained a wicked amount of pleasure watching her come apart. Hearing the guttural sounds of pleasure thick in her throat. Feeling her pussy soak his cock.
And when her final shudders quieted, he kissed her, deep and slow, and started the build to a joint climax. She peaked again so quickly, he didn’t have to control himself long. His passion rose to a rabid pitch until he couldn’t kiss her deep enough, couldn’t thrust hard enough, fast enough. Couldn’t get enough of her even when he had absolutely all of her.
“Fuck, Avery . . .” He buried his face in her neck. “Need you.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, clutched his head, and lifted her hips to meet him thrust for thrust.
She cried out and arched, her hips bucking against his.
Trace matched her need, right on the blissful edge. “So . . . good . . .”
The orgasm clawed its way up his spine, digging deep into his core before it released in an almost violet explosion. Blinding light burst behind his eyelids. His brain went white. Every muscle in his body flexed, squeezed, or bowed. And Avery’s name kept coming from his lips.
When the climax subsided, Trace pressed his weight into her to hold her in place until he got the strength to set her down gently.
Long before that happened, extended moments of silence stretched and lengthened and deepened between them—but not in a good way.
Finally, Avery’s fingers floated down his neck and over his shoulders, followed by a whispered, “I think we have a problem.”
Trace’s heart sank, and an empty ache filled its space. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “Yeah. Guess we do.”
EIGHT
Avery opened the passenger door of her Jeep and pulled the taped list from her last covered tray of sample pastries.
“Okay.” She sighed the word and tucked her hair behind her ear, scanning the tray to make sure she had something special for all the big hitters on Dr. Morrison’s office staff. “Mandy caves for anything chocolate, Brenda’s mouth waters at the sight of lemon, Richard drops to his knees for cherry, and when Vickie tastes the new twist on my cinnamon rolls, she’s going to moan like—”
Like I did when Trace was fucking me.
Avery’s mind raced back to the night before. To Trace driving into her so hard the sound of her back hitting the wall over and over still echoed in her head. And the memory of him filling her, so passionately consuming her, made a sinful thrill explode at the center of her body and spread like fire. Her sex clenched, and the ache from their fierce quickie still burned between her legs.
She closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath. The look on Trace’s face as he set her down appeared in Avery’s mind—unmistakable guilt—immediately followed by his words to her their first night toge
ther, “Don’t second-guess your body. It’s telling you what you need, however, whenever you need it. There is no right or wrong in sex.”
She hadn’t been thinking about the contradiction last night, but it had probably been floating in her subconscious, because she was still uneasy about the intensity of what was happening between them. She was relieved he’d agreed to a little distance to get their heads straight.
She closed the car door with a bump of her hip, trying to refocus on her mission, but she was already missing him when she approached the entrance to Dr. Morrison’s family practice.
Before she could position the tray to free up one of her hands, the door opened and she moved aside.
Betty Baxter, the school librarian when Avery’d been a kid, stepped out of the office with a hand to her chest. “Avery? I heard you were back in town. Look at you. You always were the prettiest little thing.”
“Hi, Mrs. Baxter. You look wonderful.”
“Thank you, honey.” Her smile instantly turned into a sympathetic frown. “I’m so sorry to hear about you and David. Well, you know, we all do crazy things when we’re young. I was hoping it would work out with him being in the service and all, but, well . . .” Her smile returned in an instant, but this time it was a little more forced. “Look, we’ve got you back now, don’t we? Everyone’s talking about your café. When’s opening day? I’m sure someone’s told me, but, oh, this old brain. Remind me, sweetheart.”
“Saturday, November 20,” Avery said, her tone as forced as Betty’s smile but hopefully less transparent. She’d been home long enough for everyone to hear about her divorce but not long enough to have seen everyone and receive all the condolences. And every reminder felt like another failure.
“Oh, perfect. Just in time for holiday pies. You know you’re going to have some tough competition, what with Penny Stevenson out in Sundance. Her pies have been on everyone’s holiday tables for decades now.”
This was one of those days Avery didn’t need to hear about the walls ahead she still had to scale. So she kept the smile in place and offered a congenial, “I’m sure there are enough people in this county to keep both Penny and me up to our necks in pies this holiday.”
“You have the older Hutton boy working on your café, don’t you? The one who was in prison for drugs?”
She could remember that, but not Avery’s opening date?
“Trace Hutton,” Avery said with extra enthusiasm to combat Betty’s wary tone. “Wait until you see the place. He’s an amazing contractor and a real joy to have around.”
“Well, just keep your eye on him. You never know—”
“Can I offer you a treat before these get inhaled by Dr. Morrison’s staff?” Avery peeled back the corner of the plastic wrap, grateful for the never-fail distraction.
“Oh, my.” Her gaze jumped from Avery to the tray and back, and her smile returned. Her concern over Trace’s past vanished. “Well, maybe just one or two for Henry. He loves his sweets. What have you got here, darlin’?”
“A little bit of everything, really. Lemon meringue bars and lemon angel cakes, cherry tarts and cherry cheesecake, Nutella truffles . . .”
As Betty fussed over her choices, her husband’s name struck a familiar chord. “Didn’t Henry work on the school’s instruments? I think I remember him coming in to tune the piano when I was in high school.”
“He did.” Betty lifted a lemon bar from the tray. “He’s retired now.”
“Do you think he’d be up for a little side job? I just got a piano donated from Mr. Stein’s old barber shop.”
Betty’s gaze lifted to Avery’s, and she smiled. “Barry Stein bought that new from Henry when he worked for Piano Works in Napa.”
“If he could make a visit and take a look, I’d be willing to pay you in free sweets whenever you come into the café.”
“Oh, dear.” Her smile turned sassy. “I doubt he’ll be able to pass up that offer.”
Fifteen minutes, a piano-tuning date, and far more than one or two treats later, Avery headed into the office, forcing her mind to this marketing call and away from the stressors of the moment.
Belle Davis looked up from her computer at the front desk with a generic smile. “Good morning, how can I—?” Her gaze flicked from the plate to Avery’s smile and back to the pastries, and Belle stood from her chair so fast, it rolled back and hit a filing cabinet. “She’s here!” Belle slapped a hand over her mouth, then lifted it enough to say, “Dammit, I should have waited until I got my pick before I said that.”
By the time the words were out, a half-dozen members of the front office staff huddled around the window, trying to sneak peeks of the tray.
“What’d you bring us, Avery?” Carrie, one of the file clerks, called from the back. “I can’t see through all these tall people.”
“There’s plenty for everyone.” Her chance meeting with Betty was the reason Avery always packed her plates full. There was always someone to cheer up or bribe with a treat along her path.
The side door opened, and one of the medical assistants waved at her. “Get back here, girl. We’ve been waiting on you all day.”
Avery’s worries fell away, and as she stood in the break room, chatting with staff as they came and went, she felt . . . whole. Content. Everyone was happy. Everyone was smiling. Everyone was chatty and excited as they perused and collected their goodies.
And while she caught up with some people she hadn’t seen in years and met others who’d come to town after she’d moved away, a small piece of her mind recognized the insignificance of her contribution. She realized that even though her moment in their lives here was fleeting and probably meaningless, it still gave her joy. And nowadays, joy came in such tiny doses, she was grabbing what she could get when she could get it.
Which spun her mind right back around to Trace. Last night’s uncomfortable ending aside, Trace brought a lot of joy into Avery’s life. Before they’d slept together, he’d brought laughter and friendship and a fresh perspective on their screwed-up world. Their first night together had brought more laughter, a bonding deeper than friendship, and ultimately a sense of joy she couldn’t say she’d ever experienced before.
Now . . . now she didn’t know. And despite her own suggestion they take some time apart, she wondered what kind of message she’d be sending if she went into the café to see him later today.
Two of the front desk clerks wandered from the break room with small plates of fudge, passing Belle on her way in. She stopped short and lifted her brows at Avery.
Grinning, Avery reached for one of the kitchen drawers, pulled out a Ziploc bag, and held it up. “Cabernet, Merlot, and Syrah dark-chocolate truffles.”
Belle clapped her hands, squealed like a little kid, and rushed to Avery. She snapped the bag from her fingers just before wrapping Avery in a bear hug and almost tipping her over.
They laughed together, and when Belle pulled back, she leaned against the counter, opened the seal, stuck her face in, and breathed deep. “Oh my God. What a high.” She closed and sealed the bag with a grin that just wouldn’t quit. One that reminded Avery a lot of her brother, Mark.
“Wait until Toby gets ahold of these.” She reached out and squeezed Avery’s hands. “Thank you so much. This is going to be such a treat for my honey. He’s been working so hard.”
Belle’s fiancé was a PG&E linesman who worked long, tough hours and took a lot of calls. The way they both worked at making their relationship succeed both mystified and touched Avery. “I’m glad.”
“I’ll pair it with the new nightie I bought from Victoria’s Secret and a bottle of his favorite Bordeaux,” Belle said with a coy smile, “and I think I’ll even the score for that night away in Napa he got for me a couple of months ago.”
“I’d say so,” Avery told her with attitude. “They’re my best batch ever.”
Belle laughed. “Perfect.” She reached in her pocket and extracted cash. “What do I owe you?”
�
�Are you kidding? No way.” Avery waved her off and crossed her arms, tucking her hands away when Belle tried to push twenties into them. She nodded to the single table, where her tray was almost empty. “This is more than enough. I couldn’t ask for a better testimonial than everyone at this office raving about my sweets. Just get them all to show up on opening day, would you?”
“Deal. Thanks again.”
“Anytime.”
Belle slipped her truffles and her cash back into the front pockets of her scrubs and wandered to the table, picking at toffee crumbs. “Mark’s mentioned you more than once.” She turned a silly grin on Avery and raised her brows with a playful, singsong, “We could be sisters-in-law.”
Avery choked out a laugh. “Oh, jeez, Belle, you’ve got to be kidding.” She shook her head, wincing at the mere mention of marriage. “Believe me—I’m doing Mark a favor.”
Belle tipped her head and shrugged. “I know. I told him that’s why you were turning him down. He usually gets the girls easily, you know? I think he sees you as a challenge.”
Avery closed her eyes on a sound of dread.
“Just ignore him and he’ll go away.” The scrape of a chair along the floor pulled Avery’s eyes open to Belle taking a seat. She wrapped an arm over the back and leveled a serious, concerned gaze on Avery. “How are you doing? I haven’t seen you since David’s engagement announcement hit the Internet.”
“I’m okay.” She lifted a shoulder, not caring much about David’s life at this point. She’d created enough of a mess in her own. “Shitty way to find out, but I doubt there would have been a good way. And considering he almost got blown off the face of the earth on his third tour and never bothered to call and tell me about that, it would have been incredibly odd for him to actually make a phone call to tell me about this.”
“I’m so sorry, sweetie. I was shocked. Did you know? I mean, about the affair? Did you see the signs?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she shook her head. “That’s just not something I ever saw David doing. He was so two hundred percent into you when you left. But I guess people change, right? And I guess you really never know someone, right? I mean, Toby and I spend so much time apart that I feel like I’m getting to know him all over again when he’s home.”
