Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
My sheets.
“Maybe we could try again. Go for a better score this time,” I suggested, smirking at him enough to let him know the whole thing had been a joke.
I had written about him, but I hadn’t used his name. And I’d sure as hell not given him a chili pepper rating. The Scoville scale didn’t go that high anyway.
Trace’s hands moved up my thighs to my hips and pulled me closer. “Yeah? You want me to pull out my fancy tricks?”
I leaned in to press a kiss to his sandpaper cheek. “You have tricks? Thought old dogs didn’t have those.”
He squeezed his arms around me and flipped us so I was on my back with him propped above. “Brat.”
My laughter felt free, like a balloon escaping the helium tank and slipping up-up-up into a bright blue sky. “I may have given you an unfair rating,” I admitted.
“Ya think?” He tilted his head down to kiss my neck.
I hadn’t thought it was possible, but my stress over the journal slid away with every brush of his lips against my skin.
“You’ll have to work very hard to impress me.” My voice was breathy and not at all convincing.
“Mm.” The deep thrum of his voice vibrated against my throat as he moved down to kiss my collarbones. “I’ll take that under advisement, Marian.”
I curled my arms around his head, enjoying the woodsmoke scent of his hair. It brought back memories of camping trips with him. Times spent exchanging stories around a fire with Trace, my dad, Rosie, and Lennon.
Back then, Trace had seemed larger than life. The younger guy who was ten times cooler than my dads and always had stories of intrigue from his job as a bodyguard, and then later, his search and rescue adventures.
Trace Bishop had always been fit and energetic, but also calm and capable. For years, I’d tried to explain away my attraction to him as a simple desire to be him.
But it had become harder and harder over the years to ignore the way my body reacted to thoughts of him.
A memory snuck its way between us. “When I was sixteen, I jerked off to the sight of you rock climbing.”
I felt Trace still, and then his lips curved into a smile against my skin. “Oh yeah? Your little gay awakening?”
I barked out a laugh, the sound obnoxiously loud in the small space. “No. That came earlier.”
He pulled back and met my eyes. “Tell me.”
My fingers threaded through his thick, wavy hair. “About the awakening or the jerking off?”
“Both. Obviously.”
Trace’s hands moved warm and strong up and down my sides, making it hard to concentrate.
The awakening was too precious to share. Not when I was aware that whatever this was between us was temporary. So I told him about the other.
“We were all out climbing Goat Rock. I went first. Papa was cheering me on, like he always does. I remember you had this smirk on your face like fond amusement. Then Dad said something to you I couldn’t make out, and the two of you started snickering. Papa called Dad a jackass, the way he does where he doesn’t mean it, so I figured Dad was teasing him for being so eager—”
Trace’s face lit up. “I remember. I muttered something to Derek about whether Jude would ever see you as anything other than a chubby-cheeked toddler. Derek said no, then asked Jude if he wanted another baby since he still had a lot of overprotectiveness to give.”
I laughed. “As if Papa’s the overprotective one.”
Trace nodded and moved a hand up to thread through my hair. “That’s why I was laughing so hard.”
“Anyway, I saw you laughing in the sun. The harness was… doing things to your…” I cleared my throat. “…shorts, or whatever.”
Trace’s eyes widened, and so did his mouth. “Wolfe Marian. You dirty boy.”
“Shut up. I looked away and kept climbing. Made it to the top, which wasn’t easy. Then rappelled down—”
“Your favorite part anyway,” he added.
I loved that he knew that about me. “Yeah. So when I got to the bottom, I was feeling that high, you know?”
His hands moved up to cup my face for a long, lingering kiss. “So you walked behind a tree and took care of business?”
“Basically, yeah.” My face was on fire, and I was pretty sure the blush was leaving ugly splotches over my neck and chest. I could only hope the dim light of the van hid the worst of it. “I could still hear you teasing Dad. Your voice made my skin break out in goose bumps, and I had this, like… sliver of a view between tree branches where I could see your leg muscles shift and tighten as you began your climb. Fuck.”
I was getting harder just remembering it. The desire to arch up into him was becoming impossible to ignore.