Defending Serenty (11 page)

I stifle a groan. There is no telling how
Joanne will react once she finds out Trace is back...and that I’m
sleeping with him. Since my father died and is no longer around to
control our lives or behavior, no longer around to terrorize the
women he was supposed to cherish, my mom has gone the eccentric
Southern lady route. But even she has limits.

Out of view on the other side of the tree,
the door creaks opened.

“Lynn?” Tim calls out. I hear his steps on
the flagstone and jerk away from Trace.

“Go,” I mouth to him. I turn and walk around
the tree.

“I’m here.” I walk past him to the door and
reach for the knob before he can get it. “I was just getting a good
view of the tree. Nice job this year, huh?”

I plaster a fake smile on my face and look up
at him. He’s looking at the grounds and his brow creases in
puzzlement.

“What is it?” I ask, trying to remain
nonchalant.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Thought I saw
someone, but it must have been a shadow.”

Or Trace Graham. But he doesn’t need to know
that. I have an overwhelming urge to leave the party immediately,
knowing he’ll be waiting for me at home. I suspect Monroe isn’t
safe as long as I’m with him, and I’d hate like hell to have to
send Trace back to prison for beating him up...or worse.

I smother a yawn. It’s been a long day and
Christmas is only a few days away. I dragged my tree and ornaments
out of storage earlier in the day in hopes I’d get it up tonight,
but I really just want to fall into bed. I’ll do it tomorrow, when
I’m off and can take care of that and my shopping, along with my
mother’s twenty questions.

Monroe is silent beside me as we walk through
the ballroom. I’m looking for my mother, and he’s what? Following
me? In the back of the room, I see Mom deep in conversation with
Mrs. Baker and suppress a groan. Not tonight. Please. I stop and
look up at Tim.

“I’m beat. I need to say good-bye to my
mother, and then if you’re ready, I’d like to head home. I can call
someone to come get me if you aren’t.”

He grins and looks past me. “One more dance,
and then maybe your mom will be free.”

I force a laugh. “Okay. One more, and then
really, I need to go.”

He talks about work and I lead the
conversation around to Magee.

“Heard from Magee again?” I ask.

“No,” he answers, sounding concerned but I
hear the insincerity. “I hope nothing happened to him. Mexico can
be a dangerous place.”

“Hmm,” I reply. A non-comment. “I’d like to
talk to the guys he worked with again.”

“Sure. We’re working a half-day on Christmas
Eve at headquarters, and will be having a lunch around eleven. Why
don’t you stop by?”

“I think I will. Thanks.”

The dance ends and I can’t pull away from him
fast enough. I sigh when I see my mother still in deep conversation
with Mrs. Baker.

“Let’s just go,” he says.

“No, I can’t. I’ll make it quick, I
promise.”

It takes twenty minutes for me to extricate
myself from the combined clutches of Joanne and Mrs. Baker. Tim,
the rat, makes himself scarce during our exchange. I try to hurry
it along, imagining Trace sitting alone at my house with his a slow
burning fuse, but it’s a waste of time. When I finally settle
myself into Monroe’s car, I’m ready to scream. Thank God it’s a
short drive home. I jump out of the vehicle before Monroe even has
it in park. I lean in the door as he reaches for the ignition
key.

“Oh, don’t get out. I can see myself in.” I
smile. “It was a fun night. I’ll see you in a couple of days,
okay?”

He laughs.

“Trace doesn’t want me around, huh? So I
guess you’ve made your decision. You know, you can’t keep your
relationship with him a secret for very long, Lynn.” He sounds
sympathetic, but I don’t buy it. I just shrug in response and he
sighs. “Okay, okay. I’ll butt out. Just be careful.”

I force a smile. “I always am.”

I slam the door, turn, and walk up to the
house. Monroe waits while the door opens. Trace steps out and leans
against the frame, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The car
idles at the curb behind me and I wonder how far the pissing match
might end up going. I
so
don’t need this crap. Trace slings
an arm around my neck when I reach him and we walk inside the house
together. Peeking out the door as it slams, I see Monroe drive off
down the street.

Glad to be home, I kick off my shoes and
reach for the pins holding up my hair. It tumbles down my back and
I massage my scalp as I walk to the bedroom. Trace follows. I sense
him, but he does it without making a sound. Stopping near the bed,
I gather my hair to one side.

“Can you get this zipper?”

It slides down, the noise loud in the
tomblike silence of the room. I let the dress fall forward to pool
around my waist and instead of pushing it down over my hips, I
reach behind me for the snap to my bra and take it off with a sigh
of relief. Rolling my neck, I wonder what the night has in store
for me. I’m ready to crash, but as usual my body strums with
awareness of Trace standing nearby, watching me. I don’t know how
I’ve lived ten years without him. Addicted, that’s what I am--and
it isn’t a good thing.

I push the dress down and sit on the edge of
the bed to roll off my stockings. He leans against the wall, his
gaze like a hot caress. Last, I remove my thong and crawl under the
covers. Sleep and lust both tug at me and right now, sleep is
winning. My eyelids droop and I curl onto my side to admire him as
he undresses. His shirt comes off to reveal defined pecs and a
ridged abdomen. Dropping the garment to the floor, he reaches for
the snap on his jeans. I hold my breath when they slide down over
his narrow hips. He is beautiful, all lean sculpted muscle. He lies
down facing me and holds my gaze a long moment before speaking.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

It is the last thing I expect to hear from
him, and it raises my guard. Do I
trust
him? I am beginning
to think I can’t live without him, but that can hardly be counted
as trust. Years ago I was sure I loved him, and where had it gotten
me? I know he would never physically hurt me, and he might even
protect me if necessary.

Yet I know he isn’t asking for that kind of
trust. Do I dare trust him with my heart? With my
soul
? Can
he be trusted not to shove me out of his life again on a whim?
Never mind if it is wise to find myself in this situation a second
time. The answer to that question is obvious. I can’t say the same
for the one about trust.

I shouldn’t take this step. I should say no
and let the moment pass, but something hovers in his eyes.
Something that looks like hurt and insecurity and longing.
Something I can’t deny. We are so wrong for each other. Maybe what
I see in his eyes is only wishful thinking on my part. If I allow
myself to trust him, it will probably be the biggest mistake of my
life. Still, I nod.

“Yes.”

He expels a sigh. “Say it. Say you trust
me.”

“I trust you, Trace.” My arms circle his neck
and I press my body to his.

“I need to know that you are...completely
mine. I want to do something.”

“What?” I arch my eyebrows.

Where is this going? He leans over the side
of the bed and picks up my handcuffs, dangling them over me from
one finger. A combination of unease and interest moves through me.
I am certain he doesn’t want me handcuffing
him
, and I don’t
want to do that either. My last memory was of him cuffed. But to
let him handcuff me? He leans over me.

“It’s a matter of trust,” he whispers in my
ear.

The soft drawl of his voice sends shivers up
my spine, and I ponder the idea. I’m turned on, no doubt about it.
But it does come down to trust. I make a split second decision.

“Okay.”

A slow smile spreads across his face. He
leans over and nibbles my bottom lip.

“You have an interesting collection in this
drawer over here.”

Uh oh. He’s found my toys. Between them, the
handcuffs and the lascivious look in his eyes, I know I’m in for a
long night. Before I can think of a way to postpone it, he clicks
the metal circles on my wrists. They are loose enough not to pinch
and don’t tighten when I wiggle. I blink. These aren’t mine. He’s
found a novelty set.

He rolls on top of me, stretches my hands
above my head, and secures them to the bed. I crane my neck
backwards and see he’s tied two scarves together, which are
probably secured to the platform’s feet, and he’s used one in the
center to go around the cuffs. I grin.

“Awfully cocky aren’t you? How did you know
I’d say yes?”

Sitting back on his heels, he admires his
handiwork and shrugs. “I didn’t. I counted on our chemistry.”

“Ahh,” I answer, not sure what to make of
that reply.

He doesn’t give me a chance to think about
it. He leans close and his lips and teeth close over my nipple in a
semi-hard bite. The restraints have more than enough give in them
for me to arch into his mouth, and he breaks away with a warning
look.

“I can make it tighter.”

I press my lips together to keep from making
a smart-ass remark along the lines of go for it. I nod okay
instead. He lays down again, presses into my side and holds my gaze
while his hand travels down my body. I force my limbs to be still,
until his fingers nudge my thighs wide and he spreads my lips. I
squeeze my eyes shut tight and gasp when he grazes my clit and dips
into my pussy. He gathers the moistness there and circles my
clitoris, lightly, teasing me by avoiding the touch that will make
me come.

His lips again close over one stiff nipple
and I groan when he sucks it, hard. He shifts, his hand leaving my
pussy for a moment, and then I feel something nudge past my inner
folds. The vibrator buzzes through the room when he switches it on,
and I jerk as the shock of sensation sends me swirling into an
orgasm. When I settle back to earth, I look at him from beneath
droopy eyelids. He’s tracing patterns across my belly, his face
tense and predatory. From self-control?

“How do you do that to me?” I murmur
dreamily, my eyes sliding shut. “No one else has ever been able to
get me off like that.”

He stills and my eyes snap open. Brilliant. I
should think before I open my big mouth. He holds my gaze and the
path his fingers trail finally register. He’s writing.
Mine.
Over and over again. I hold my breath and wait for him to respond
to my stupid slip. He’s been in prison and I’ve tried to...what?
Replace him? The things he can do to my body, at least. It didn’t
take long before I gave up on finding another man like him, and
frustrated with my search, I discovered sex toys. They don’t demand
emotional entanglement.

“Maybe no one else was able to satisfy you
because you were meant for me,” he answers.

His voice is hard, but quiet, almost solemn
and a frisson of unease travels up my spine. Dipping a hand between
my thighs, he removes the now silent vibrator from my body and lets
his fingers skim my clit. Against my will, my body arches into his
hand and he smiles, pinching the hard nub a little too hard.
Releasing me, he leans forward in slow motion and his lips graze
mine. He stares into my eyes and starts a light rub across my
clitoris. My breath quickens and my body jumps in response to his
touch.

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “My
Serenity.”

Is he using my name, or saying I give him
peace? He slides down my body, nipping and licking and kissing my
inflamed skin as he goes, and I can’t hang on to the thought. Hell,
when his mouth closes over my clit, I forget my own name. Who can
think of anything but pure feeling with him sucking me?

Chapter Eight

Trace

I spread her thighs wide to accommodate my
shoulders, leaving her open for my exploration. Stopping long
enough to grab a pillow I’ve left waiting at the end of the bed, I
lift her hips and slide it under her butt. I pause a moment to
admire her position, then reach to the floor for the other things
I’ve left there--a round clitoral vibrator, a condom, and a tube of
lubricant. Enough fantasy. It’s about time for action.

She is riding so high it will be easy to keep
her coming all night. I intend to keep her like that so she won’t
protest when I ask to fuck her ass. That will be the ultimate show
of trust, won’t it?

Moving back into position between her thighs,
I rest on my elbows and inhale her scent. Musky and sweet, it makes
me wild for release, but that will have to wait. I push my tongue
into her cunt, fucking her with it while I flick her clit with one
finger. I drive her to another orgasm and then another, demanding
she give me everything. Shaking in the aftermath, she lays limp on
the bed, smiling up at the ceiling. I decide it’s time. I push the
small vibrating ball inside her pussy and turn it to low. She half
groans, half chuckles.

“I don’t think I can take anymore,” she says
looking down the length of her body at me. Her eyebrows arch at the
tube of lubricant in my hand. I drop a few beads on the tip of one
finger and press it into her ass, up to one knuckle, and then two,
until it is buried inside her as far as I can reach.

“Maybe one more time,” she gasps when I slide
a second finger into her and slowly begin to fuck her, loosening
her resistant muscles. I can feel her body tensing to come again
and I stop. I rip open the foil condom pouch with shaking fingers,
roll it on and pick up the lube. I coat her puckered hole again and
then the head of my cock, and move into position. My hands catch
the sides of her face and I meet her gaze.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

She stares at me before nodding.

“Yes,” she whispers.

I kiss her hard and fast, and then edge into
her tight opening. Ah Christ. I won’t survive it and I’m only in a
little bit. Pushing in another couple of inches, she tenses,
resisting me. I reach up and pop the release on the cuffs and her
hands fly down to grip my shoulders.