“You kinky bastard.” I laugh as a finger digs into a ticklish spot on my ribs. “I’m going to smell like sex.”
“No.” He moves to the sink and washes his hands. “You’re going to smell like me.”
Marking his territory. With a blissful sigh, I pull my clothes back in place.
“Now that we got that out of the way…” He dries his hands and prowls toward me.
Holy shit, now what? He has that look—the scowling, smoldering, intense glare that suggests our liaison in the Walmart bathroom isn’t over. I feel like I know this man down to the pith of his bones, yet there are moments like this when I’m utterly stupefied by the beauty of his mysterious frown. He holds me hostage with a glance, owns me with a crook of his finger, and intimidates me with his uncanny ability to keep me guessing.
Three paces away…two paces…he crowds me with his soaring frame, buries a hand in my hair, and crashes his mouth against mine. His kiss is strong and demanding, skipping the slide of lips and diving straight to teeth and tongue. I taste myself on him. It’s dirty and intimate and makes me so damn hot.
A knock sounds on the door, and Trace tears his mouth away.
“Get lost!” He returns to my lips, the hand in my hair wrenching my head back as his other cups my breast with firm pressure.
He walks me backward until I bump against the wall. Clutching the backs of my thighs, he lifts me until we’re eye-level.
With an arm around my waist and his fingers tangled in my hair, he forces my mouth back to his. Teeth grazing, tongues rubbing, the kiss is frenzied, humming with the sounds of our moans and shallow panting.
I wrap my arms and legs around him, rocking on instinct. He’s hard between my thighs and positioned perfectly to slide right in.
Except we’re both wearing clothes.
I pull at his shirt, deliriously needy.
“Slow down.” He laughs against my mouth and pries my fingers from his collar.
“When do I get to taste your cock again?”
“When I decide.” He kisses across my jaw and nips at my neck. “I intend to tease you for a long time.”
“Sadist.”
He bites the skin on my throat, hard enough to leave a mark. Then his mouth returns to mine, softer this time. Our lips glide together in a gentle motion, tongues meeting, releasing, repeating. Shared breaths, eyes closed, we kiss with the same love and hold each other with the same reluctance to pull away.
“There isn’t a word in the English language,” he says against my mouth, “that accurately describes what you mean to me.”
“We don’t need words, Trace.” I frame his face in my hands and rest my gaze in the sanctuary of his. “This is all we need.”
In the span of a wistful moment, it’s just Trace and me and the unified beat of our hearts.
Until another knock rattles the door.
“Time’s up,” I whisper.
His face falls drastically, and his fingers dig into my back. Does he think I meant time’s up forever?
“Trace, I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” He grabs my hand, gives my sweater and leggings a quick once-over, and opens the door.
Of all the people to find standing in the hallway, there’s Max, the employee who doesn’t understand the word no. He steps back, eyes wide, as Trace leads me out of the men’s bathroom.
“Are the walls sound-proof?” I grin over my shoulder at Max, walking quickly to match Trace’s long gait.
“Um…not really.” Max rubs the back of his head.
“Oh good. See you around.”
Trace grabs our cart of groceries, and we make our way to the front of the store. He’s quiet to the checkout line, quiet on the drive home, and quiet still when he parks in the garage and stares straight ahead.
“What’s wrong?” I unlatch the seatbelt and lean toward him.
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been giving me one-word answers since we left the store.”
He unbuckles his seatbelt and drops a quick kiss on my lips. “I’m just mentally preparing myself.”
“For what?”
The door to the kitchen opens, and Cole steps into the garage. Trace glares at him through the windshield.
That’s what Trace was preparing for—Cole, this arrangement, and the inevitability of watching another man make my heart race. My chest constricts.
“There will come a day when…” He grips my chin and growls against my lips. “I’ll show no restraint.”
As the last of the groceries are put away, Trace gets a call and strolls toward the rear of the house, arguing with whomever is on the other line about regulations on new gaming machines. With the phone at his ear, he steps outside, leaving me alone in the kitchen with Cole.