Two is a Lie(59)

A swallow hangs in my throat. “What am I doing to you?”

“There are a lot of ways to hurt someone.” He trains his ice blue eyes on the road. “Only you can inflict pain and make me crave every minute of it.”

“I…I’m hurting you?” My chest collapses, stuttering my breaths. “I don’t mean to, Trace. I’m so sorry.”

“Never apologize for this.” He rests a palm over the thick outline in his pants. “No matter how painful, it’s worth the relief I’ll find with you in the end.”

I sense he isn’t referring to sex, but rather something deeper, stronger in the indefinite future. It’s moments like this that break me. I’m running from the most important question of my life, while falling victim to the greatest irony.

Because I’m not looking for an answer.

I already have two.

Lifting an arm over the back of his seat, I stroke the soft hairs on his nape. “I hate this.”

“I love you, and I’ll wait. Rest on that assurance.”

“Thank you.” I lean my head on his shoulder and try to absorb his strength for the remainder of the drive.

We eat at a quaint little bistro, where we whisper and smile and share lingering glances while enjoying locally-grown foods and strong coffee. Then he takes me home and walks me to the front door.

I left my car at the casino, but Cole’s motorcycle sits in the driveway. I wonder if he’s in the basement or waiting just inside the door.

“You want to come inside and say hello to an old friend?” I run my hands across the front of Trace’s suede jacket, shivering in the chilly air.

“I’ll pass.” He wraps his arms around me, warming me.

“I miss you already.”

His scowl twitches, and he stares at my mouth.

Lifting on my toes, I cup my hands around the back of his neck and kiss him.

He cradles my face and kisses me back, inhaling hard and deep as he swallows my breaths, my whimpers, and the whole of my heart.

Then he steps back and licks his lips. “I’ll be waiting.”





Trace’s kiss lingers like a fever as I enter the house. I desperately need a moment to cool down before seeing Cole. One look at my puffy lips and pink cheeks and he’ll know. I don’t want to hide from him, but guilt sends me darting to my bedroom.

When I reach the hallway, music blares from the basement, cluing me in on his whereabouts. I sigh with relief and slip into my room.

The sheets on my bed tangle around a six-foot-long expanse of empty mattress. He sleeps on my side when I’m not here?

The urge to curl up in his scent pulls me onto the bed. I remove my heeled boots and bury my nose in the bedding. Oh God, I love his manly, woodsy smell. I want to sleep in it.

I assured Trace a hundred and one times today that I feel fully rested. But as I lay my head on the pillow and pull the covers around me, my limbs grow heavy. Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a second.

I pass out instantly and sleep like the dead. When I wake, the sky beyond the window has faded to a muted gray. And I’m not alone.

A wall of heat covers my back, and bands of muscle wrap around my body, enfolding me in a tight embrace from behind.

“How long have you been in here with me?” I turn my head and kiss Cole’s bare bicep.

“A couple hours.” He kisses my neck, tickling my skin with his whiskers.

We lie on our sides, legs bent together, both in jeans. He’s shirtless, making me wish I was, too, so I could feel more of him. Hell, I wish we were naked, like we were in the shower only two days ago.

It’s only been two days since I’ve seen him.

“It feels like a lifetime.” I turn over and touch his face, his rugged, stunning, chiseled face.

“A lifetime?” His breaths fan against my mouth.

“Since I did this.”

I lean in slowly and angle for a kiss, tilting my head, parting my lips, and savoring the anticipation lining his expression. Right before I make contact, I swoop down and scrape my teeth against his nipple.

“Danni!” He jerks back, pushing against my forehead and warding me off. “What the fuck?”

I shift to my knees and anchor my hands on my hips. “How can a tough guy like you have such sensitive nipples?”

“I just…do.” He falls to his back and flattens a palm over the imaginary pain. “You know I don’t like it.”

“I didn’t even leave a mark.”

He lifts his hand to sneak a peek then reclaims my eyes, looking all kinds of butthurt.

“Let me try again.” I can’t hide my grin. “You’ll like it.”

“Hell no. I’d rather lick the floor.”

“Big baby.”