Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (76 page)

I fought a smile. “That’s quite a promise.”

“It’s one I can keep,” he responded, biting his lip. He didn’t bite his lip often, but when he did it sent my tummy fluttering. He wasn’t even trying to be seductive, but it was working.

We were quiet as the rest of the ceremonies were performed. When we were called up, I thought my heart was going to race right out of my chest.

The Justice of Peace smiled pleasantly at us. “Do you have any witnesses with you?”

I shook my head.

“No,” Trace answered, “do these lovely people count?” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to more couples that had come in after us.

“They sure do,” the kind gray-haired man smiled.

He began speaking and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to repeat after him, or Trace, or was I just supposed to say I do? Oh crap, I was panicking, and therefore sweating in places no one should ever sweat.

When the Justice of Peace paused, waiting for me to respond, I shouted, “I do!”

Trace threw his head back in laughter and the other couples in the room joined in. I was sure my face was red as a tomato. Lovely.

Stifling his laughter, Trace said to the Justice of Peace, “At least she’s excited to marry me.”

The man chuckled, one of those hardy belly laughs that always made me think of Santa. “That’s for sure.”

And I officially wanted to crawl in a hole and die.
Could
you die from embarrassment? If you could, I was sure I was a few seconds away from being cosmically struck by lightning.

“It was my turn to say, ‘I do,’” Trace winked.

My face reddened even more. “Oops,” I shifted my eyes guiltily to the floor.

“Would you like me to start over?” The man asked.

“No need,” Trace smiled pleasantly. My eyes were still downcast and he grabbed my chin, forcing my face up. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

That was easier said than done.

I nodded though, to make him feel better.

“I do,” Trace said, squaring his shoulders, and holding my hands in his.

I forced myself to listen to what the man was saying this time, so I didn’t say anything I wasn’t supposed to.

“Olivia Camille Owens, do you take Trace Alexander Wentworth to be your husband? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect him, forsaking all others and holding only to him forevermore?”

“I do,” I answered softly but without hesitation.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride,” he clapped Trace on the shoulder.

“About time,” Trace grinned, taking my cheeks between his hands and kissing me deeply. He dipped me down and my hair skimmed the floor.

He pulled away, breathing heavily. “Hello, wife.”

“Husband,” I replied with a quiet giggle.

He took my hand and we ran out of the room and all the way out to the parking lot. When we reached the car, he pushed me against it and caged me in with his arms. His head lowered and his lips pressed softly against mine at first, then grew more urgent. My fingers knotted in the fabric of his wife-beater as I tried to get as close to him as possible.

“We’re not staying in some crappy motel tonight,” his lips fluttered over the curve of my jaw.

I nodded in agreement.

“Tonight is our wedding tonight,” he murmured, “and you deserve the best.”

Before I could reply, he was kissing me again and all coherent thoughts disappeared.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and my back pressed roughly into the car. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but I didn’t mind.

His hands roamed down my body, settling beneath my butt as his hips pressed firmly into me. I gasped and his tongue flicked against my lips. He kissed the corner of my mouth and pulled away. I lowed my legs but he kept a firm grip on my waist.

“I think we better find a hotel,” he winked. “I’d really hate to get arrested for indecent exposure on my wedding day.”

“That would ruin the mood,” I agreed, my words coming out breathless.

He kissed me lightly once more and opened the car door for me.

He drove for ten minutes and pulled into the parking lot of a Holiday Inn. “It’s not the fanciest,” he shrugged, “but it’s better than a smelly motel.”

I laughed in response. I loved that we were still joking about that first motel.

“Be right back,” he assured me. I watched him jog into the hotel, shaking my head. Someone was in a hurry and the reason was pretty obvious. Men.

He returned a few minutes later, spinning a room keycard between his fingers. He opened the passenger door and held his hand out for me to take. “Come on, wifey,” he smirked.

“I take it someone’s ready to consummate this marriage,” I joked.

“You make me sound like a horndog,” he frowned. “Okay, maybe I am,” he admitted. “But only for you.”

“Mhmm,” I murmured, heading for the trunk, but his hold on my hand kept me from getting there.

“I’ll get our stuff later,” he smiled suggestively.

Before I knew what was happening, he swept my legs out from under me.

“Trace!” I exclaimed, causing people in the parking lot to turn our way. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying you over the threshold,” he responded, heading towards the sliding glass doors that led into the hotel.

“I don’t think it counts as a threshold unless we’re home.”

“Well, we’ll just have to repeat the
whole
process over when we get back,” he chuckled, his lips brushing dangerously close to mine as he spoke. My eyes fluttered closed at the feel of the feather light touch.

He carried me through the lobby and the few people mingling stared at us curiously. He pushed the button for the elevator and I tried to get down but he wouldn’t let me go.

“Trace,” I groaned, “let me down. I’ll get too heavy.”

He rolled his eyes as he snorted. “Woman, you’re light. I’m fine. Stop worrying so much.”

“I don’t want to break you,” I mumbled.

He laughed at that. “It’ll take a lot more than that to break me. I assure you.”

The elevator doors opened and a family stepped out, looking at us like we’d grown three heads.

Once in the elevator he still wouldn’t put me down. Stubborn man.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and laid my head on his shoulder. I might as well get comfortable. I knew he wouldn’t put me down until he was good and ready.

He pushed the button for the fourth floor and the doors slid closed.

My heart rate spiked with the knowledge of what was coming. I pulled back and gazed up in wonder at him. Suddenly, he wasn’t just Trace—the scruffy, fun-loving, sucky dancer I fell in love with. He was my husband—the man I’d be spending the rest of my life with. The man I knew I couldn’t live without.

“What?” He asked when he noticed my staring.

“Nothing,” I whispered, laying my head against his shoulder once more.

My eyes closed and a smile of satisfaction graced my lips.

The doors dinged open and he started down the hallway, murmuring room numbers under his breath. “Aha,” he smiled in triumph as he stopped in front of one. He slid the keycard into the slot and it blinked with a green light. He opened the door and stepped inside, letting it slam closed behind him. He carried me to the bed and dropped me on top.

I giggled, scolding him. “Trace!”

He dropped on top of me, but caught his weight on his hands. I bounced from the momentum, biting my lip to stifle my laughter.

“Hey,” he murmured in a husky voice, his green eyes darkening to a forest green color.

“Hi,” I smiled, reaching up to trace my finger over his lips. He opened his mouth and playfully nipped at my finger. “Did we really get married?” I cupped his stubbled cheeks between my hands.

He nodded. “Already regretting it?”

“Never,” I shook my head.

“I know we’re young,” he whispered, lowering his head to skim his nose along my collarbone and up my neck, “but I feel like I’ve been waiting for this day since the moment I knew you were the one.”

“And when did you know I was the one?” I dared to ask.

He pulled back slightly, gazing at me thoughtfully. “It wasn’t just a single moment that I can name. It was an accumulation of moments that added up over time and I knew that I’d never be happy with anyone else. You were made for me, Olivia.”

“And you were made for me,” I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Glad you think so,” he smiled crookedly.

“I
know
so.”

He placed a kiss on the end of my nose and whispered huskily, “I think we should stop talking now.”

I nodded in agreement as my back arched off the bed so that I could kiss him.

He cupped the back of my head, his fingers tangling in the wavy strands of my hair. I lightly bit his bottom lip and he growled low in his throat, causing my stomach to flood with warmth. His free hand skimmed over my cheek, down my neck, and over my shoulder. He pushed the plaid shirt he’d lent me off of my shoulders. It pooled at my elbows and I released my hold on him long enough to remove it.

“Your turn,” I gasped breathlessly.

With a raspy chuckle he pulled away and stood in front of me. He hooked his fingers into the back of the shirt and pulled it off.

I stared at his beautifully sculpted body and the tattoos that adorned his skin. I couldn’t believe that he was mine.

“Come here,” I crooked a finger, beckoning him forward.

He wet his lips, fighting a smile, but lowered his body over mine once more. I felt so small and protected cocooned beneath him like this.

I ran my fingers greedily over the hard lines of his abdominal muscles. I smiled in satisfaction when a tremor rocked his body and his eyes fluttered closed as his breath gusted between his lips. I loved that I could affect him this way. It pleased me to know that our relationship wasn’t just one way. He was as affected by me, as I was by him, and that was a beautiful thing.

“Make love to me,” I breathed and his eyes opened at my words.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured.

He eased his fingers under the edge of my tank top and I shivered at his touch, Goosebumps breaking out across my skin. He tapped a finger against my belly button ring and then his hands began to venture higher. Before reaching my breasts, his hand descended once more, and he grasped the bottom of my tank. He tugged it over my head and tossed it behind him.

He unsnapped my bra and threw it behind him as well. “That’s better,” he smiled, taking my breasts in his hands, testing the fullness.

“Trace,” I whined, lifting my hips slightly.

“Patience,” he whispered in my ear, his voice raspy. “Good things come to those who wait, Olivia.”

I mewled in protest.

Waiting was torture.

“Please,” I begged.

“No,” he growled, pulling my earlobe between his teeth and nipping it.

I whimpered, not because it hurt, but because he wasn’t giving me what I wanted.

I grasped his dark hair between my fingers and gasped when one his fingers delved into my shorts.

Now we were getting somewhere.

But when I was close to an orgasm he pulled his hand away. I cried out in displeasure.

“Trace, please,” I cried.

“Not yet,” he kissed my belly, “not until I’m inside you.”

“Then hurry up,” I demanded.

“Not yet,” he repeated, kissing his way up my stomach, over my breasts before finally reaching my lips.

My mouth opened beneath his and his tongue flicked against my own.

My hands found his belt and undid it with ease. I popped the button and slid the zipper down, brazenly running my hand over the curve of his erection. Two could play this game.

“Olivia,” he gasped my name, the sound of it filling my body with warmth.

He kicked his jeans off and grasped me by the waist, moving me so that my head was on one of the pillows.

“You’ll be the end of me,” he whispered, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I could say the same about him, but all coherent thoughts had gone out the window.

His lips glided over mine before nipping at my chin and down my neck.

I was getting impatient, but I knew from past experiences that if I complained too much about his slow pace, he’d only go that much slower. I think he liked torturing me.

He moved down my body, hooking his thumbs into the sides of my panties and pulling them down. When they reached my ankles I kicked them off.

“I think you’re a bit over dressed,” I pointed to his boxers.

“Not yet.”

Ugh. If he said that to me one more time I might lose my mind.

He kissed the sides of my thighs, spreading me open.

“Trace,” I gasped.

“Olivia,” he chuckled my name as his tongue flicked out.

My back arched off the bed and I reached up, gripping one of the pillows tightly in my hand.

Just like before, when I was close he pulled away.

I groaned in protest, squeezing my eyes shut in frustration.

When I finally opened my eyes, he was braced above me, staring.

The tip of him nudged my entrance and I whimpered.

I wanted to beg, but I bit down harshly on my lip to keep any words from leaving.

He adjusted his weight and lifted a hand to pull my bottom lip from between my teeth. “You’ll make yourself bleed,” he whispered and then tenderly kissed the lip I’d almost injured.

He stared at me for a long moment, his gaze causing a tremor to shake my body, and slowly slipped inside me.

“About time,” I gasped, causing him to chuckle lightly.

He sat up, bringing me with him. He cradled me against his chest, looking into my eyes. It was extremely intimate but I didn’t shy away. I trusted Trace. He knew the real me.

He kissed me deeply, sucking on my bottom lip, as I rocked my hips against his. I ran my hands over his muscular chest before settling them around his neck.

“I love you,” he said fiercely as he stared into my eyes and straight down to my soul.

“I love you too.”

I knew what we had was a special kind of love. You have to love someone at their worst, to truly love them at their best. Trace had seen me at my worst, my best, and everything in between, and he still loved me. That’s true love. The kind that lasts for eternity.