A Trace of Love (2 page)

Trace didn’t miss a beat. He placed one hand on her waist and one behind her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. He held her tight, their lips melding together. His tongue gently parted her mouth a little wider and glided over hers in a slow, circular motion. His breath tasted like cinnamon gum, warm against her lips. Her hands slid along his chest and wrapped around his neck where she ran her fingers through his soft black curls.

His hands slid under her blouse, leaving trails of heat on her skin as they explored every inch of her abs and lower back. He reached up and unhooked her bra. One hand slid under the lace and massaged her breast. A tender, callused thumb traced circles around her nipple until it tightened and puckered under his touch. Damp warmth began to tingle between her legs as his other hand reached down, over her jeans, and gently squeezed her butt.

Trace deepened their kiss; pressing so hard against her she thought she might fall backward on the bed. Heat burned through her clothes where their bodies touched; his chest, abs, and hips aligned with hers. She felt the bump of his desire through his jeans, pushing against her thigh. Her trembling hands reached for the hem of his shirt, but she fumbled, forgetting about his coat.

Trace tore himself away from her and yanked off his jacket, his pale blue eyes never wavering from her brown ones. He crossed his arms and pulled his shirt over his head, letting it land on the floor. Ophelia wet her lips and swallowed as she took in his perfectly chiseled pectorals and abs, right down to the sculpted V of his hips.

She pulled off her top, along with her bra. Her cheeks warmed as Trace looked at her, but she refused to hide from him. There wasn’t any point in being shy this far into things. He closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to her forehead while unbuttoning her pants. He got on one knee, kissed her tummy, and pulled her jeans down to her ankles. She stepped out of them, turned and pulled the covers off the bed.

Ophelia slid under the sheets. Smiling, she inclined her head and gestured for him to join her. They lay on their sides, face to face for a moment. He smiled and kissed her nose and forehead. Heat burned where his lips touched her skin. He placed a hand under her jaw, his thumb gliding over her cheek, and pulled her closed to him, kissing her lips. With each kiss, Trace opened his mouth a little wider, dipped his tongue a little further, and held her a little tighter.

She gently pressed her hands against his shoulders, easing him onto his back. Still exploring his mouth with her tongue, Ophelia let her hand glide over his rock solid chest and abs, over his boxers, into the little flap of the crotch. She found the hard, hot length of his sex and freed it from the confines of his underwear. The huge, pulsating flesh flopped against his tummy. Ophelia glanced at it from the corner of her eye and nearly gasped. She briefly wondered if it would even fit inside her. She stroked it, her fingers trembling at its size. It bobbed against her touch, like a puppy begging to be petted. His skin was so soft and delicate as it stretched thin over the vein. Trace tilted his head back. A soft moan escaped from his lips.

An idea came to Ophelia, one that made her smirk. She sat up and moved next to his hips. She was about to lean over his sex when Trace grabbed her arm. “Wait,” he said while pushing himself up.

Ophelia straightened. “What is it?”

A sheepish grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “I want to be on top.”

Ophelia nodded and lay against the pillows.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked.

She smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

“Close your eyes. No peeking.”

Ophelia snickered, but did as he said. “Promise,” she grinned with her eyes closed. She felt the bed bounce slightly as Trace stood and moved about the room. The light behind her eye lids darkened and she knew he turned off all the lamps. He joined her on the bed once more, sitting by her side. She expected a quick entry, but that proved not to be what Trace had in mind.

Instead, he took her right hand in his and held it up to his mouth. He pressed tiny kisses against the tips of each of her fingers. Then he kissed the palm of her hand, the underside of her wrist, and her forearm, slowly working his way down to the inside of her elbow. His warm, moist breath tickled her skin along her bicep and shoulder.

She breathed deeply and turned her head away as he reached her collar bone. He kissed her neck and took his time nuzzling, sucking the delicate skin between his teeth, playfully nipping. His trail of sweet, burning kisses continued down, between her breasts, down over her upper abs and tummy, down to her groin.

She heard him push the sheets completely away from her. His fingers slipped under the straps of her thong and gently pulled it off. He placed both hands under each of her knees and slowly parted her legs. Every fiber of her being was ready for him; she gripped the bed in anticipation. She wanted to open her eyes, to watch as he worked, but she kept them closed as she’d promised, knowing how much better it would feel.

Trace nipped at the spot where her thigh joined her hip, sending a shiver of goose bumps over her body. He pressed his lips sweetly against her sex, instantly filling her with a tingly heat. Ophelia’s eyes fluttered open just slightly. She reached down to push the soft curls of his hair behind his ear. “Trace….” But she felt him smile against her. His head dipped low and she felt the burning heat of his tongue entering the core of her body.

Her head fell back against the pillow and she moaned as he rolled his tongue from her vagina to her clit. He repeated the motion until her entire sex was slick with moisture. He turned his focus to her clitoris. He massaged it with the tip of his tongue, suckling every so often, until it hardened into a tight little bud. Her core trembled for attention again. Just when Ophelia thought she would scream, Trace pushed his index and middle finger easily inside her, invading and exploring her sex.

Trace continued to massage and suckle her clit. At the same time, he pumped his arm, slowly at first, but then increasing in speed. Ophelia dug her fingernails into the mattress, moaning until she came once, twice, a third time. Trace kept on going. Ophelia trembled under his every touch, almost to the point she thought she might explode. She shuddered so much, she had to gather all her strength just to reach down and pull his face up.

“Trace…I need you inside me.”

He kissed her thigh, his lips glossed over with moisture. “Not yet, trust me.”

When Ophelia came the fourth time, her eyes rolled back, her torso lifted off the bed, and her hips trembled in overwhelming pleasure. When Trace released her, she fell against the bed and tried to catch her breath. Little spasms continued to ripple through her core, aftershocks reminding her body of the pleasure it felt.

Trace lay by her side, patiently waiting for her to collect herself. He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Do you still want me inside you?”

Ophelia faced him, wide-eyed, chest still heaving. “Oh yes.”

He chucked then pulled the covers up and positioned his body over hers. She felt the burning heat of his flesh poke against her tummy. She reached down and stroked it. Her breath caught in her throat. It was even bigger now than when she’d pulled it out of his boxers. Ophelia tried to prepare herself by relaxing her muscles, but she just didn’t think it was possible.

Trace didn’t try to force himself. He kissed her neck and gently messaged her breasts until all the tension melted away, replaced by a familiar warm tingle. Trace pushed his sex inside her a little bit at a time until, finally, she somehow stretched enough to take in all of him. He pulled out and this time, his entire length slick with her moisture, he drove all of it into her core at once. Ophelia gasped, feeling the most heavenly pain a woman could ever know. He filled her completely, the connection whole, perfect, like two puzzle pieces meant to fit together. She dug her fingernails into his back, drawing blood, but he never flinched.

Somehow, it wasn’t enough. Ophelia wanted more, wanted him deeper. She mumbled her request in his ear. He lifted her into his thick, capable arms, crawled to the head of the bed, and rose to his knees. Her back pressed against the cold headboard. He hooked one arm under her knee and pulled her leg up until her toes pointed to the ceiling. He pumped
hard
; making sure every inch of himself entered her body with each thrust.

Soon their skin dripped with sweat, gleamed silver in the moonlight filtering through the window. Ophelia and Trace had sex until the sun rose. At some point, Trace took Ophelia’s hand and held it against his chest, directly above his heart. He fell asleep, holding her hand there.

But Ophelia couldn’t rest. At some point while they were supposed to be having casual sex, Ophelia fell in love with Trace Curtis. She knew it. She recognized it. But she couldn’t allow it.

What did she expect him to do, stay in the city with her? Have a real relationship?
Marry
her? She wasn’t a teenager and this wasn’t a daydream. Hell, she hadn’t had sex with Mathew, her old crush, who was oblivious to her existence. She had sex with Trace Curtis, international rock star. She just slept with a man who was used to sleeping with groupies every night. No, Trace Curtis would get on his tour bus, go to the next venue, perform another show, and have sex with another woman. There would always be an endless supply of willing ladies for Trace Curtis, even if there was never another man for Ophelia. Trace would easily forget about her.

With a heavy heart, Ophelia slid her hand out of his and gently left the bed. She dressed quickly, in silence. She grabbed her shoes and tiptoed out of the hotel room, away from Trace.

* * * *

When Trace awoke later that day, he was shocked to find himself alone in the room. He cursed. Of course she would assume it was a one-night stand. He hadn’t asked her for a phone number or anything to suggest otherwise.

He didn’t mean to have sex with her. He only wanted to get know her, to understand the strange attraction that pulled him to her. But when they kissed, his heart melted and suddenly he couldn’t get enough. Even when he was deep inside her core, nothing he did felt sufficient.

He’d shared his bed with plenty of women in the past, but none of them made him feel the way she did; that sweet, frail girl whose voice rung when she laughed, whose skin smelled like honeydew melon. An urge rose from his chest, one so overwhelming it suffocated him. He wanted to be with her always. He wanted to hold her close and protect her, to be the only one to touch her, to love her.

Love
?

Yes, that was it. Trace loved her. The realization sent his hand clawing at his chest. He had to find her. In a panic, he dressed and flew out of the hotel room. He almost forgot to check-out at the desk. Once outside, he realized he didn’t know where to begin looking for her. It drove him crazy that he couldn’t remember where he recognized her from. Hell, he didn’t even know her name.
Great, Trace. This is just great.

His only hope was The House of Blues, where they’d met. He flagged down a taxi and was back at the venue in less than five minutes. The front entrance was closed, but he knew they’d let him in the back door. Inside, the sound check crew tuned the instruments and the bartender wiped down beer mugs with a cloth.

Trace rushed to the old man. “Have you seen the girl who left with me last night?”

The bartender shook his head. “Ophelia usually doesn’t get here ‘till late.”

“Ophelia?” Trace could almost taste her name as it rolled off his tongue.
Ophelia
. He was certain he knew that name from somewhere. “Do you know where she lives?”

The bartender shook his head. “I don’t know anything about her, except she’s my best customer; comes in every night.”

Trace nodded and thanked God Molten Silk had one more show before they left the city. He could wait for her to come to him.

* * * *

That night, Trace sat alone at the bar in the very back of The House of Blues. The concert was long over. The instruments were stowed away in the tour bus where his band mates waited.

During the show, Trace spent every second scanning the crowd for Ophelia. Every time he thought he saw her, it turned out to be someone else; a groupie flashing him, or guy trying to high-five him. The later it got the more panic set in his chest until Trace had to face the truth. She hadn’t come back.

“Excuse me, Mr. Curtis, but we have to lock up for the night,” said the venue’s bouncer. Trace nodded and rose from his seat. He walked to the door, his movements stiff, robotic. Outside, the chill in the air froze his heart. He’d lost her.

He started toward the bus and was almost inside when he heard a voice.

“Trace?”

A smile inched across his face. He turned and there she was, standing in the shadows just inside an alley. He jogged over and stood before her, but he didn’t know what to say or do after that. Hug her? Kiss her? Shake her hand? He wet his lips. “Ophelia.”

She glanced at him, her eyes wide and dazzling in the dimness. “You know my name?”

“I asked the bartender.”

“Oh.”

Trace ran his fingers through his hair. He really wanted to tangle them in hers. “Listen, Ophelia—”

“I almost didn’t come here tonight,” she blurted out. “But…I couldn’t stay away.” She glanced at her hands. “God, this must sound so stupid to you.”

Trace scowled. She thought coming back to him was stupid? She really had no idea what kind of effect she had on him. He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips against hers. Her lips were so soft and warm. The yearning to hold her tighter, kiss her harder, retuned with a force that left him weak in the knees.

* * * *

Tears welled up in Ophelia’s eyes and threatened to spill. She pushed Trace away, but he held her tighter. His expression turned guarded. “Ophelia, what’s wrong?”

“Trace, please. I only came here to say good-bye. It didn’t feel right, walking out on you at the hotel.”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he searched her face. “What do you mean ‘good-bye’? Where are you going?”