TRACE AND DELAINEY finished their day of shooting and, after a quick bite with the crew, headed back to Trace’s house. While initially the acting thing had been totally foreign, he was starting to fall into a rhythm that he could understand. It wasn’t rocket science and it was a lot easier than tracking. All in all, it was the easiest cash he’d ever made.
“I’m going to take a bath,” Delainey announced, her voice trailing suggestively as she added, “Feel free to join me....”
He didn’t need further encouragement and began stripping before he’d even reached the bathroom. The room was filled with steam as she adjusted the temperature in the antique claw-foot tub he’d purchased at a swap meet with Delainey in mind. She’d always loved baths and he’d planned to surprise her with it on their wedding night as a gift. He’d spent hours restoring it to its former glory, and he was humbled by the open appreciation in her eyes as she sat on the edge in nothing but a towel. “I love this bathtub,” she said, smiling. “But then, something tells me you knew I would.”
“I bought it for you. For us,” he amended, clearing his throat, wondering if they shouldn’t talk about the past again. He didn’t want anything to upset the mood that was building. After last night, he needed her so badly his hands trembled with the desire to touch her smooth, silky skin, and his mouth went dry at the memory of sinking into her wet heat. Satisfied with the water level, she turned off the faucet and stood, dropping her towel. Her body never failed to incite him to a fever pitch, but he watched with open hunger as she pinned her hair up, exposing her nape, and then gingerly climbed into the steaming water. Her eyes fluttered shut on a groan, and he couldn’t wait another moment.
When her gaze landed on his straining erection, she smiled with appreciation and beckoned with her crooked finger. “What are you waiting for?” she teased, and he climbed into the tub so quickly, water sloshed over the sides. She laughed and moved to settle into the cove created by his body, laughing when he couldn’t help but prod her backside with his insistent erection.
“Sorry, sometimes I have no control over what happens downstairs...especially with you.”
“I like that I drive you crazy,” she replied in a husky murmur. “Makes me feel sexy.”
“You are the epitome of sexy,” he growled against the moist skin at her nape. Her scent, unique to her, filled his senses, and he closed his eyes against the surge of primal possessiveness that followed. His mouth traveled a soft line up to the shell of her ear and nibbled until she moaned and cocked her neck farther to the side to give him better access. He whispered sexy little phrases that he knew pushed her buttons, and when his hand strayed south, she whimpered softly as he teased her flesh with a gentle touch. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, loving the way her breath caught and her breasts rose and fell with each gasp. Her hardened nipples broke the water like two peaks in the ocean, proudly jutting from her chest and tempting him to rise from the tub, to carry her to the bed, but he wanted to draw out her pleasure first.
He pinched her swollen clitoris with enough pressure to cause her to gasp but not enough to hurt, and she groaned as her hand covered his, encouraging him to apply more pressure. “Yes,” she nodded, sliding her tongue along the seam of her lips. “Harder...”
Trace slipped his middle finger deep inside her channel and pushed up, meeting the soft, spongy area behind her pubic bone, and she shuddered against him. He could spend a lifetime listening to her soft cries and sharp gasps of pleasure. His penis was hard as stone, but he paid it no heed, so intent on wringing every ounce of pleasure from Delainey’s lips until she was shaking and crying from his efforts.
“I can’t take any more,” she admitted in a tight, raspy voice. He pressed harder and she melted against him as another shudder passed through her. The little nub pulsed, and he responded by pinching it again. This time Delainey jerked and water sloshed over the sides of the tub. She turned in his arms and launched herself at his mouth, rubbing her breasts against his chest as her tongue slid against his in a wild dance of abandon.
They were breathless by the time Trace lifted them from the cooling water and, after a quick towel-down, they fell onto the bed, entwined with one another. Delainey surprised him when she pushed him down to take his length into her mouth. His eyes rolled in his head as her lovely mouth did terrible, wonderfully wicked things to him until he wasn’t sure he could hold back the need to explode. Afraid he might do just that, he pulled her to him and plunged his tongue deep, rolling her to her back. He fumbled for the condom package—their second—and pulled the last condom from the box. “Last one,” he said with a grin, and she laughed heartily as she distracted him with plenty of kisses so that he struggled to get the condom on. “You’re going to pay for that,” he promised after he’d managed to roll the latex on and pounced on her. Her high-pitched squeals quickly turned to breathy moans as he wasted little time in pushing himself as far as he could go inside her willing body. She clasped her arms around his back and urged him to make love to her faster, harder, and he was only too happy to oblige.
His last thought before he tumbled into sweet bliss—he could live and die a lifetime in her arms.
* * *
DELAINEY LAY NAKED against Trace’s chest with her fingers interlaced with his. The darkness their only cover, she was thankful for the cheerfully glowing woodstove in the other room throwing off plenty of heat to keep them warm. She was sated beyond words to the point of bone-deep lethargy. She could gladly lie in Trace’s arms for an eternity. Delainey closed her eyes on a happy sigh, and she would’ve fallen right to sleep if Trevor’s words hadn’t come sneaking into her consciousness, robbing her of her well-earned rest. She frowned and Trace must’ve sensed her disquiet, because he shifted and asked, “What’s on your mind?”
Should she share what Trevor had said? Would it make things weird? She didn’t want anything to ruin the serenity of the moment, but something about Trevor’s assessment of her kept coming back to poke at her.
And not in a good way.
“Someone,” she hedged, not wishing to use Trevor’s name, “recently told me that a woman like me needs a man who’s willing to let me run things. Do you think that’s true?”
She could hear the frown in Trace’s voice as he asked, “Who said this? Is this someone who knows you?”
“The who doesn’t matter, but are they right? They said I needed a weaker man than myself if I wanted to be happy. They said you and I weren’t right for each other because you and I were both strong individuals.”
“That person is plainly an idiot. Who was it, so I can punch him in the face?”
She smiled. “How do you know it was a man?”
“Because that’s something a man would say if he were trying to make a move on someone he couldn’t have. It’s the oldest trick in the book—divide and conquer.”
“So you don’t believe that I need a weaker man to make me happy?”
“Hell, no. You’d devour a weaker man. You need someone who isn’t afraid to stand up to you and tell you when you’re being a stubborn brat,” he answered gruffly. “But I really don’t like talking about this hypothetical perfect man for you when you’re lying in my arms naked. Okay?”
“Of course,” she agreed, secretly happy with his answer. Trevor was an idiot and he had been hitting on her, which laid credence to Trace’s answer. Not to mention, it was exactly how she’d felt about the situation, as well. They were so well-matched in so many ways, except the one that kept them apart. She exhaled softly and snuggled into Trace’s side, determined to stop thinking and just enjoy the moment. Delainey was a firm believer in that refusing the gift of happiness was an invitation to misery.
She drifted into a deep sleep where she dreamed of green meadows and snow-capped mountains, butterflies and laughter. And she dreamed of babies. Beautiful, utterly charming babies with eyes of summer blue and blond hair that curled in a wild array of tousled waves and made her want to bury her nose against their sweet scalps. She dreamed of deep, soulful kisses that awakened her spirit and made her feel alive for the first time in years.
And she dreamed of Trace, his handsome face crinkling in laughter and pride as he swung the children in the air, catching them with ease, mouthing to her “I love you” as their babies smothered his cheeks with sloppy kisses. Her heart felt ready to burst with such emotion that could not be contained. This was joy. This was happiness in its purest form. But as she started to walk toward them, ready to join her family and be included in the happiness, dark clouds rumbled from an unknown direction and she stared at the rapidly changing skyline, knowing a storm was on its way. She called to Trace and the babies, but they didn’t seem to hear her or the thunder that boomed from behind the roiling, ominous clouds, and she began to run, stumbling on hidden rocks on the meadow floor. No matter how fast she ran, Trace and the babies got farther away. She screamed Trace’s name but he climbed to his feet and, shouldering each child, began to walk away from her. “No!” she screamed, running after them. “No! Please don’t go!”
She awoke, drenched in sweat and panicked as Trace tried to calm her. Delainey clung to him, so relieved that it was just a dream and that Trace hadn’t left her and taken her babies with him. But it was then she realized he was trying to tell her something.
“Your stepmother just called.”
“What?” Delainey asked, still a bit disoriented. “What do you mean?”
“I thought the phone ringing had woken you up, but then I realized you were having a nightmare. She left a voice mail.” He handed her the cell phone and Delainey accepted it with trembling fingers. She looked to Trace, feeling sick inside. There was only one reason Brenda would be calling this late, and it was not good news. She pressed Play and listened to the message.
“Hi, honey, I know it’s terrible late, but I wanted you to find out right away. Your daddy passed about five minutes ago. He didn’t suffer none and he’s at peace. Call me tomorrow when you can.”
Delainey dropped the cell phone to the bed and stared at nothing in particular. Her father was dead. Trace was waiting but she couldn’t quite get the words out. When they did finally break free from her mouth, her voice was strangled. “He’s dead. He died five minutes ago.”
“I’m so sorry, Laney. Do you want to go to your family? It’ll just take me a minute to get dressed.” He started to climb from the bed, but she stopped him with a desperate shake of her head, tears already starting to flow.
“Don’t go. Please stay here with me. I...I’ll go tomorrow.”
He nodded in understanding and quickly gathered her in his arms. She sobbed against his chest, unable to fathom that her father was dead. Trace had been right. She should’ve made her peace with him before this moment, but a part of her never truly believed he would die. Her father was stronger than death, meaner than death for sure. But he hadn’t been and he was gone.
And now she could do nothing but cry because she hadn’t said goodbye or done a single proper thing as his daughter. In fact, their last words to one another had been terse and angry—that’s what she had to keep as her lasting memory.
The knowledge made her sob harder.
Trace held her until she passed out from sheer exhaustion.