Inside the Lines: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel (16 page)

“I was. I am. I meant to. I just…” I sound like an idiot. “I love you.”

“Aye. I love ye too. I told ye that.” And the light bulb goes on. “That’s why I havena heard from ye, isn’t it?”

I raise my eyebrows with a tense smile. “That’s me. Romance killer of the year. I have a wall
full
of trophies.”

His shoulders drop as he looks at me for a moment, as though trying to understand what makes me tick. “Ye’re not broken, Lux. Hurt, maybe. A little bruised. But ye aren’t falling to pieces, love.”

His kindness nearly undoes me, so rather than let emotions take their course, I pull his head down to mine and kiss him with all the insecurity and fear that’s welled inside of me, as though I can excise them by drinking him in.

He grabs my arms, pushing me back. “Love, I’m a mess. Ye dinna want to get that close to me.”

And there is definitely a distinct horse-y odor. “You need a shower.”

He grins. “Aye, I do.”

I take his hand and pull him into the house. Noah returns to the living room, so we escape upstairs.

He insists on rinsing himself off before letting me into the shower with him. I admire his naked form through the fogged glass until he opens the door for me to join him. I lather him with soap, paying close attention to his most intriguing bits, until he’s straining with need. He pulls me to him, sheathing himself in one stroke. We move together, mouths exploring, hands seeking, finding each other without words. He presses me into the wall, my legs clasped around his waist, and holds me tight as I shake against him, unsure if I’m remade or broken.

He traces small hearts and circles over my breasts and stomach as he lies beside me in bed. “I had to see ye. When ye dinna respond to my last message, I feared ye might have been angry at me.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “For what? Being too perfect?”

He raises an eyebrow, then snorts. “I dinna think that, no.”

I meet his beautiful gaze, unable to stop myself from admiring his strong jaw covered in late-day shadow. I run a finger over his reddish whiskers, enjoying the texture. “Well, you are five years younger than me.”

He makes a face. “Does that truly bother ye? It’s not like I can change my age.”

“When I’m thirty, you will be twenty-five.”

He looks about the room, then back at me. “And…?”

“Nothing.” I can feel myself turning pink. “It’s stupid. I’ve just never been with someone younger before.” I shrug.

He nods. “I’ve never been with someone older, but I haven’t noticed that it’s been an issue. Have ye?”

I stick my tongue out at him and bury my face in my pillow, my cheeks hot in embarrassment.

“Well then.” He waits a beat. “What’s the real issue?”

I look away, wishing I wasn’t so abominable at love. “I’ve never really felt like this about someone. I mean, I’ve thought I was in love, but there were always games being played. I always knew I was safe. I couldn’t really get hurt. But with you,” I force myself to face him, “I could.”

“Aye, and it goes both ways, love.” He shifts to his stomach, his thigh aligning with mine. “Ye have the same power over me.” He holds his hand out to me as we lie side by side.

I slip my fingers through his, trace the flat of his palm as I try to figure out what is really niggling at me. “That doesn’t bother you?”

He watches me curiously. “It’s part of the deal. When ye love someone, ye hold both parts of them in yer hands—the good and the bad. Ye could hurt me, sure, but being with ye makes my world a better place. Ye remind me why I have ambitions and goals, why I want to be the best at what I do. Because ye do that every day in yer own life.” He feathers a kiss over my knuckles. “This isn’t just about having fun in bed, Lux. I enjoy making love with ye, of course. But even more so, I admire ye and yer vision. And I love that ye always take time to recognize the needs in others and help them come to terms with them. That’s what made me fall in love with ye in the first place.”

Only the sound of the air conditioning hums in the room. I stare at the ceiling, at a loss for words. No one’s ever said anything like that to me before. I feel raw, a bit too open, and I don’t know how to respond.

After a few minutes, his fingers flit over my side, and I shriek with laughter and curl away from him. He doesn’t give in, tickling me until I launch myself at him, pinning him to the bed.

“Knew I could get ye where I wanted ye.” He holds my hips, pressing himself against me.

“Just like a man. Only after one thing,” I tease, jerking my head back when he tries to kiss me.

Without warning, he gathers me to him and flips us over. “Aye, just like a man, eh?” He nips my breast.

I yelp in surprise, then narrow my eyes at him. “Oo, payback is going to be a bitch.”

“Only if ye can tie me down again with your wee ropes, love. Otherwise, I’m going to take what’s mine,” he threatens, biting my other breast lightly.

I’d argue further, but the pressure of his cock against me feels incredible, and I’d much rather focus on that.

He isn’t quite finished. A serious look on his face, he toys with a lock of my hair. “Ye’re right, Lux. I am after only one thing.” His hand caresses my cheek, his gaze penetrating my soul. “You.”

The purity of his words leave me with a lump in my throat, so rather than try to respond, I pull his face to mine, once again hoping I can convey with my kiss everything I wish I could say. I shift beneath him, spreading my legs so he can come into me fully. He holds my face, his gaze unwavering as he maintains a slow rhythm. Even when my breath falters and comes in gasps, he stares deep into me as though he can see through the shadows and anguish into the darkest corners. When he finally kisses me, it’s as though I’ve been stripped naked, only this time on the inside, and whatever he found was exactly what he sought.

After, when we’re both sweaty and satisfied, he holds me against him. “I love ye, Lux,” he whispers as he drifts off to sleep.

But I can’t sleep. While my desire is sated, my hunger for him scares me. I’ve never
needed
anyone before in my life. My determination to be self-sufficient has driven me for a long time. Undoubtedly, it’s why I’ve had very few relationships that went past the first couple of weeks. While a little over a month hardly constitutes a long-term relationship, my feelings for Fin suggest that I’m falling for him like I’ve never fallen for anyone. I want to be happy about this, but a gut-deep fear niggles at the edges.

While I’ve never been hardcore BDSM in my own sex life, I do control the environment. I’ve always been the top. I can enjoy vanilla sex, and certainly, I relish making love with Fin. But with him, there’s much more give and take than I’m used to. And on one hand, it’s refreshing to be with someone who’s just into me for me, and not what I can do for or to them. I’ve never been involved in something like this before. What if it doesn’t last? What if I can’t have a long-term relationship like this? What if I get bored?

What if he wants children and a stable life with that white picket fence? That’s not who I am, and as I watch him sleep, his face relaxed and innocent, I can’t help but believe that he deserves a chance at that. He’s twenty-three, and he hasn’t even finished college yet. I was an idiot when I was twenty-three and just starting to find my footing as a Dom.

Not to mention, what if he doesn’t get into the local college? What if he has to go home? The idea of a long distance relationship doesn’t thrill me.

But the idea of losing him…terrifies me. I reach out, running my fingers over his forehead and cheek. The corner of his mouth turns up reflexively, but he remains sound asleep. I am in love with this gorgeous, kind, and passionate man…but doesn’t loving someone involve wanting the best for them? What if I can’t give him that? Or worse, what if I get in the way of it?

Chapter 19

Family Matters

The next morning, Fin joins Noah and me at the table for coffee and the newspaper perusal. I washed his work clothes last night, so he smells like laundry detergent.

Noah quickly excuses himself. “Ella is determined to start jogging, and I’m pretty sure if I don’t show up, it’ll never happen.” He drops a kiss on my head, shares a manly bumping of fists with Fin, and then it’s just the two of us.

He’s reading the international news, sipping his over-creamed coffee—“You Americans and yer bitter drinks; I’ll never understand ye”—and I occasionally glance over. What would it be like to do this every morning? Wake up to his sunny disposition, which never seems to wane, make lazy love first thing, as we did this morning, and then share coffee and the paper…I’m finding myself warming to the idea, which is a surprise, particularly after my tempestuous thoughts last night.

I don’t realize he’s meeting my gaze until he reaches for my hand. “Ye’ve got a bit of a smile on yer face, love. Penny for yer thoughts?”

That makes me laugh. “God, people still say that?” When he looks rightfully annoyed, I chuckle a bit more. “Sorry, my grandfather used to say that when I was little. I never really understood why he’d give me a penny, when no one else offered.”

“So ye’ll mock me for being old-fashioned, or Scottish, eh?” He pretends irritation.

I stand, then swing myself over his lap, straddling him. He leans back so he can look at me. “Can I ask ye something?”

“Sure.” I kiss him, though, before he can. My ebullient mood seems limitless at the moment, and it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way.

Eventually, though, he pulls away, extracting my arms from around his neck, laying them on his chest with his large, warm palms on top. “Why do ye not talk about yer family? I get the impression it’s a source of pain for ye, and I dinna wish to make it worse. But I’d like to understand, at least.”

I look away, down at the neckline of his v-neck t-shirt, then I swallow, trying to figure out how to answer him. “Let’s just say…my family isn’t like yours. I don’t have warm memories of holidays or high school graduations.” I avoid his gaze for fear of the pity I’ll see there. “My family isn’t like that, and I don’t like to talk about them.” I kiss him, then gently extract myself under the guise of putting dishes in the dishwasher and refilling coffee cups.

He comes to stand behind me, pulling me back into him. The top of my head fits neatly under his chin. “I’m sorry, Lux. I dinna mean to upset ye.”

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. The scent of him eases the ache in my chest, and I turn in his arms. “It’s not your fault. And I’m not upset. It’s just hard to explain to people.” I give him a peck, then stand back and admire him. “And unless I miss my guess, we haven’t played mini-golf together yet.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Mini-golf, eh?”

“This must be remedied, immediately.”

I run upstairs to change into sneakers and jeans, but in the back of my mind, I know I’m doing more of the same—what I do in every relationship.

Avoid.

Make excuses.

Refuse to be vulnerable.

And deep down, I know I will destroy this if I don’t stop myself.

Later that night, after we’ve gorged on sushi and Ben and Jerry’s (Chunky Monkey for Fin, Cherry Garcia for me), and long after the credits roll on the movie we rented, I find myself relaxed in his arms. I don’t realize he’s asleep until I hear his soft snore. It’s all I can do not to laugh, but I move carefully, just enough so I can look at him. In repose, his ginger eyelashes mimic the curve of his cheek, his full bottom lip slightly pouting. Even so, he appears content. Happy, even. I know from the times we’ve talked that he has a wonderful family, very supportive, and he talks to them often.