Authors: Reese Madison
“I doubt it. You would have heard it at the very least.”
“Not likely. I wear earbuds when I do yard work. I never thought a snake could get in there… Oh my God. You’re right. There is no way it just worked it’s way into my shed.” I put my hand to my chest. The more I know the more real this gets.
“Come on. I’ll tuck you in.”
I grabbed his arm, “You can’t leave me tonight.”
“I’ll stay for a while, until you fall asleep. I didn’t tell you all this to get closer to you.”
“I know that. I’m scared Trace. Nobody has ever tried to kill me before!! What if there’s more snakes?? Or poisonous spiders??” I shivered and started swatting at imaginary webs.
“I’ll do a sweep of your entire house. You know the ironic part?”
“I’m afraid to ask you to tell me anything else tonight.”
“You’re going to fall in love with, and marry, the snake guy you had to call when his trap was found.”
“I can’t process that right now Trace.”
“Okay, stay put. I’ll come get you.” I thought he meant my door, not me. He scooped me up and carried me to the front door. I had to fumble for my own keys in my purse so I could unlock the door, but the gesture is very sweet.
Trace is my big strong protector now. Do I trust him? For some reason I’ve trusted him since the moment I opened the door. He has this aura about him that screams he can be trusted.
He proves it every time we’re together. Like now. He carried me to my bedroom and set me on the bed. “I’ll be in the living room. Get comfortable and come join me.”
“Hey.” I’m not sure what I want to say, or how.
“It’s gonna be okay Cookie. I’ve got you now. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” He waited in the doorway until I looked up. “I know you’re telling yourself not to, but you can trust me. I have no reason to take anything from you but your love, and your cookies. Maybe some brownies. How are you with pies?”
I smiled and rolled my eyes before shooing him out. “Go. Find us a movie, and let Bits out.”
“Yes dear.” He pulled the door shut and called to Bits from the hallway.
It didn’t occur to me to ask why he would have to call for Bits when he should be in his carrying case until I saw the mess all over my living room and kitchen floor. At least it’s not food.
Trace stood up from behind the couch, breathless and holding up a piglet with toilet tissue stuck to the end of his nose. “Your pig, chewed through his carrying case, got into the bathroom cabinet, and then proceeded to unravel every roll of toilet paper in the package. It looks like
I’ll
be going to Home Depot tomorrow to buy those child safety locks,”
I walked over to collect my bad piggy. “Were you bored baby? Awww. Mommy’s home now. It’s okay.”
“Oh good grief. You’re going to spoil our children.”
“It’s not like I can make him clean it up.”
“I can wipe it up with his little grey and pink butt.” Trace suggested brushing fragments of toilet tissue from his knees.
“Were you chasing him all this time??”
“He’s fast, and kept diving into the toilet paper like a kid jumps into a pile of leaves. I kept losing him. Look at this mess. It looks like it snowed in here.”
“Call Sawyer with his fan. We’ll blow it into the yard and call it Christmas decorations.”
“Don’t tempt me. Where’s your vacuum?”
“Hall closet. Don’t use that one though, get the Shop-Vac from the garage.”
“Oh good, we’re going to need it.”
I’m on my hands and knees trying to gather up larger chunks of the Toilet Paper Massacre in between oncoming attacks by the One Piglet Army, when I hear Trace clear his voice above me.
I looked up at the incredibly beautiful warrior. “Yes?”
He pointed towards the garage, “Would you mind explaining that?”
“I know, it’s a mess. Sorry. The Shop-Vac should be in front of the pile marked Christmas.”
“I meant the motorcycles!” He bent and drew me up by the arm. “Why are you sitting on a million dollars worth of antique motorcycles??”
“One point two million actually, I know, I’m paying the extra homeowner’s insurance.”
“Celeste. I love you honey, but you’re killing me here. Explain.”
“You love me??” He’s called me ‘love’, once or twice, but he hasn’t come right out and said it. Not like this.
“Of course I love you. Why else do you think I’m stalking you?”
“I thought it was my cookies.” Here I go flirting again. I can’t remember ever wanting to flirt before.
He ground his jaw and stepped in to tower over me. I think I’m in trouble. “You have two seconds to start explaining those bikes in the garage, or I go in after your cookies, and feast.” The way he drew out the last word gave me an inner shiver that went all the way to my toes, out my fingers, and snapped right back to my girly parts.
“I’m sorry, was that a threat?” Don’t smile. Don’t fall for those silver-blue eyes that accent his otherwise dark features.
“Remember what I told you about my struggle with self control around you?”
I’m bouncing off walls as he stalks me to the bedroom. Evidently I’m not very good at walking backwards, even in my own house. “Yes.”
“All you have to do is say stop, no, or don’t. You have the reigns my dear, but don’t expect me to stop unless you use them.”
“Then let me tell you right now, I’m not ready to go all the way with you.”
“Probably a good thing, you should get some sleep sometime tonight.” He stomped his foot like he was coming after me.
I squeaked and ran to the bed where I hopped on and grabbed a giant decorative pillow to use as a shield. “Go easy on me.”
“No way. I think you’ve had it a little too easy doc.” He walked around the bed kicking out of his boots and unbuttoning his shirt. His attention was drawn to the door behind me. “Shit. He needs a small prison cell.”
I laughed and hopped over to gather Bits, and his cardboard toilet paper roll, to lock in the guest bathroom. He’ll be alright for a little while. I hope.
Trace caught me on my way back in and curled those long arms around my waist. “I’m going to bring over a pen for him. One he can’t chew up.”
“Good idea.”
“Put your hands on me Cookie. Why do you hesitate to touch me?”
I looked down at his chest and laid my hands flat against the soft spray of dark hair covering firm pectoral muscles. They flinched when I dug my fingertips in to comb through the short hair.
“I love your touch. Don’t stop.”
I watched as my hands slid over his shoulders, down his arms, and back up to his neck. He lifted his chin with his eyes already closed giving me lots of room to scratch his chin under the goatee.
He moaned hugging me to him before lowering his chin and taking my fingers between his lips. He backed me so I sat my butt on the edge bed. I watched as he knelt and took off my socks.
“I want to see you with your hair down.”
He reached back and pulled the long black strands through the holder and tossed it on the nightstand. When he stood to tug my sweats off by my ankles his hair fell over his shoulders making me gasp.
“You okay?”
“No. Do you have any idea how absolutely gorgeous you are?”
“As long as you think so.” He whipped the ugly cotton pants off and tossed them aside.
I’ve always been shy in the bedroom, my body isn’t one you show off in bikini, so I tried to cross my legs.
He gently swatted my leg back down. “Oh no you don’t.”
“Habit.”
“Lay back.” He dropped down to his knees after tossing a pillow on the floor. “Old football injury.”
“What position?” I asked getting one last feel of his hair before laying back.
“Tight end.” His hands are calming as they caress my thighs and calves.
I giggled. Tight end. What is wrong with me??
“Something funny Cookie?” His lips touched the inside of my knee sobering my giggles immediately.
“I’m nervous. I think. This doesn’t happen to me.”
“This what?”
“This. Do I really need to say it?”
“No. Let’s see if we can get this shyness out of the way.” He hooked my panties with his fingers and worked them down and off without lingering. His hands made their way back up and spread me for his viewing pleasure. “Nice tattoo.”
Oh crap. I forgot about that. “Don’t laugh.”
“Why would I laugh?” He kissed the small rebellious tattoo of a playing card, the queen of hearts.
“It’s silly.”
“I don’t think so. Why the queen of hearts?” He pushed my shirt up a little, then let his fingers slip underneath to gently explore. I think he senses my need to limit my vulnerability by keeping my shirt on. I’m definitely not used to a man lingering down there.
“I like cards. Especially Black Jack.”
“Are you any good?”
“Just lucky with that particular card.” I grabbed the sheets as his whiskers teased my eager flesh.
“Did you get the tattoo in hopes of getting some luck down here?”
I arched as his tongue flicked my nub slowly. Too slowly. Oh God. I’m going to embarrass myself and come on his nose.
“Cookie?” His breath is warm against my needy flesh.
“Stop talking!!”
He chuckled then set the backs of my knees on his shoulders. “Let’s see if we can find you a little luck down here.”
Okay, I’m not sure if he’s looking for luck, leprechauns, old car parts, or the devil himself, but the first orgasm hit me hard and fast. It didn’t take much. A perfectly laid kiss unraveled me to the core.
The rest of the unraveling came like waves lapping at the shoreline. Perfectly timed. Perfectly executed, and always reliable. He’s playing my body like an instrument. One I can’t even play.
My life will never be the same again. This is what I want. No more going back.
I finally begged him off because for the first time ever, I’m sore. I don’t think I was this sore after my first time, and certainly never with Jackson.
Trace found a blanket from somewhere and brought it over to cover my delicate, well-played, lady parts before settling on his elbow beside me. “How’s your luck now beautiful?”
I tilted my head for a better look, and to touch his cheek, ear, and hair. “I’m feeling pretty lucky right now.”
“Me too.” He wrapped his arm around my middle and ducked under my arm to put his head on my shoulder.
I’ve never held a man like this. Whoa. What a comforting feeling. He feels perfect here. That’s how it feels. Trace is the piece of my life that’s been missing, I just didn’t know it until now. “Trace?”
“Hmm?”
“Will you stay in here with me tonight? Not for sex. I’m really scared. What if Jackson decides to kill me because I made him mad?”
“I don’t think he has the guts to come after you directly. I’ll stay here. Anywhere you want. Here, the guest room. You tell me.”
“Can I trust you not to roll over, and into me, in the middle of the night?”
“For now, but once we’re married, it’s game on. I get to roll over, and into you, all I want. In fact, I’m having that written into our vows.”
I laughed and hugged him as hard as I could knowing he won’t break. Kissing the top of his head made me think of holding our children some day, and kissing the tops of their heads, and their little boo-boos. I sighed feeling completely sated and content. Safe.
Trace shoved a handful of toilet tissue into a trash bag. “What’s up with the bikes Cookie?” So much for getting out of this conversation.
I sighed, “Oh yeah. They’re my dad’s. I’m… storing them for him.” I’ve been dreading this conversation because now I know he’s a biker, not just a wrangler. That’s fine, but the fact that he’s a Colson means I’m going to have to face up to a fear I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with yet.
“Why?” His instincts won’t allow him to let me off with such a vague reply.
“He was in an accident about four years ago. Fucked him up pretty bad. Took two years of physical and psychological therapy to get him to walk again. The day his doctor told him he’d never ride again, he stood in his garage over those bikes and cried silently for hours.
“He wouldn’t say anything. He wouldn’t move. Tears fell for hours in steady streams that broke my heart one blood vessel at a time. I was his favorite kid to ride with. The only one really interested in riding. We went everywhere together.” I wiped a tear away as Trace pulled me up into his arms.
“I’m sorry sweetheart.”
I let myself indulge for a moment, then decided this was not going to ruin my night. I stepped back and kissed his hands one at a time. “It’s okay. I couldn’t ride again after that day. Other than to bring those beauties over and put them under covers. That was over two years ago. Slider helped me move them. He’s actually the last person I’ve ridden with. That was also the day dad gave me Slider as a client.”
“Sounds like your father means a lot to Slider.”
“They’re good friends. I’m not sure how they met, probably riding. I asked Dad once why he didn’t join the club. He said he needed to remain objective for Slider. It made sense, so I just left it alone.”
He looked into my eyes with his finger under my chin, “What were you planning to do with all those bikes?”
I shrugged, “Let you ride them?”
From the look on his face, that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “Celeste.” That’s who I am when he scolds me. I like it.
“I never thought I’d ride again Trace. I would have told you sooner if I’d known your last name. You didn’t even tell me you had a bike, let alone belong to the club.” I reminded him this isn’t all my fault, dammit.
“That doesn’t answer my question. If you didn’t plan to ride again, why hoard the bikes?”
“I can’t sell them, are you crazy?? Those are my dad’s.”
“Uh huh.” His tone suggests I’ve just been played.
I pushed him away gently, “Get back to work smarty pants. I’ll think about the riding again stuff, just give me some time. I know you’re not going to want someone who can’t ride with you.”
“I never said that.”
“It’s true nonetheless. Maybe we should slow down here. I’m already in over my head.”
“That was me earlier.” He smacked my butt just hard enough to earn a dirty look. “Let’s get this cleaned up so I can get you back in bed.”
“No more tonight. I’m done.”
“Who said anything about you?” He picked up the hose of the vacuum cleaner.
Before my brain clicked in so I could stop him, he flipped the switch sending little bits of toilet paper all over the place. It’s snowing inside my house. Big, papery, ripped up flakes of snow. Before the floors were covered, now every possible surface in the living and dining room is covered.
Now, if that wasn’t bad enough, Trace reached back in a hurry to turn the vacuum, now blower, off and lifted the hose as he bent. That sent more paper snowflakes all over the freaking place. Bits is currently chasing a piece of toilet paper down the hall towards the bedrooms.
Every time it floats down closer to him, he snorts pushing it back up into the air out of his reach. He jumps to chase it, slips, slides, and scrambles for traction as he crashes into the walls.
I’m so stunned I can’t even laugh. I have a huge stupid grin on my face under my hand that came up over my mouth as the utter comedy of the situation set it. “I’m going to be picking toilet tissue off the walls for years.”
“Who the fuck put this thing on Blow??” Trace is not nearly as amused, which makes it really difficult to keep a straight face now.
“We use it to blow up pool chairs and toys.” I explained trying to rescue a piglet who is currently having a blast in his toilet paper haven.
“You couldn’t tell me this before??”
“I didn’t think about it! You had your face buried between my legs. Blowing was the last thing on my mind.” I hope he didn’t hear that last part.
Suddenly the papers began to lift up and swirl around as the sound of the vacuum got closer.
“TRACE!!!” I squealed and hunkered down against the storm. Bits is off catching the brunt of the storm like the brave son of a warrior he is.
The motor stopped and the snow began to settle.
I peeked out, “Are you done?”
“Oh I’m sorry, I had blowing on my mind. My bad.” He reached back and flipped the switch to reverse the flow of air. “Sucking. We’re supposed to be sucking. I always mix these things up.”
I giggled and looked up to steal a hug and a kiss before swatting his butt and getting back to work cleaning up this hilarious mess.