Debra Webb - In His Touch Box Set (Here To Stay, Up Close, Tempting Trace, Basic Instincts) (45 page)

She lifted her chin and kissed his waiting mouth. Tentatively, at first, a feathery brushing of her lips over his. But when his body contracted in response, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him as if tomorrow might never come. As if she might never again be held by Trace Walker. Claire drank in his special taste and savored it on her tongue. She drew in a long breath, filling her senses with only him and the wonderfully masculine scent that belonged exclusively to this man.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he whispered against her lips. With that said, he took the few, final steps to Claire’s bed.

She slid her legs slowly down his hard, muscular thighs until her feet settled on the floor. She pulled her mouth from his, leaving her lips craving more of his taste. The longing she saw in his eyes at that moment magnified the incredible ache building inside her. He tugged off his boots and tossed them aside while she kicked off her fluffy slippers.

His hands trembling with the same urgency driving her, he reached for the buttons of her blouse, but Claire stopped him. She pressed one finger to his lips, halting his protests. With exacting slowness, she loosened the two buttons of his shirt. Slowly, she helped him pull it over his head and off, exposing the rippling muscles of his broad chest. Lord, how she’d dreamed of this every night since Dallas.

Claire touched him. The room tilted and heat churned madly inside her. She slid her hands over his smooth, tanned skin. Trace drew in a sharp breath as she teased one taut nipple with her tongue. His taste exploded in her mouth and suddenly she couldn’t get enough. She wanted to kiss him all over.

His arms went around her, and again she pushed them away. “Claire,” he groaned.

She hushed him with a quick kiss, then stepped back and simply stared at him for a long moment.

He was absolutely perfect.

She moved behind him and placed a kiss on one wide shoulder as she trailed her fingers over his strong back. He shivered when she reached around his waist to unfasten his jeans. First the belt, then the snap, and then the metal on metal sound of his zipper as she lowered it. Feeling bold, she reached inside and cradled his heavy arousal.

“You’re killing me,” he choked out.

Claire smiled, feeling empowered that her touch could make this big guy shudder with need. She’d never been this adventurous before. Maybe it was the wine... or maybe the man. She pushed his jeans and shorts over his hips, down his long legs, and off. Whatever drove her, she wanted more. She showered him with kiss after kiss as she made her way back up his long legs, his tight butt, and his strong back. His arms hung at his sides, his fists clenched. When she moved back in front of him and his eyes fluttered open, Claire thought she would die on the spot. Her mouth went dry and her chest constricted as her gaze traveled slowly from the powerful passion in his eyes, down and over his magnificent, completely nude body.

“I need to touch you, Claire,” he whispered, his voice harsh. “Now.”

If he only knew how very much she wanted him to touch her. The need almost outweighed the natural reflex to breathe. He reached out to her and Claire retreated a step. She smiled wickedly and began unbuttoning her blouse, slowly.

Very, very slowly.

His gaze followed her every move. The blue cotton blouse floated to the floor like a cloud. She slid her jeans down her legs. Trace took a breath, let it go as his gaze traveled up the length of her.

The lacy, skin-tone bra went next... then the French-cut bikinis.

Claire dragged both hands through her hair, smoothing it and allowing it to fall over her shoulders. The long strands whispered across her skin and tickled the erect tips of her breasts.

Trace’s gaze locked on hers, and Claire knew she could wait on longer. Every part of her that made her a woman cried out to be taken by the man waiting before her. Never before had the thought of making love with a man felt more right than it did now... with Trace.

At that moment, before he even touched her, Claire knew deep in her heart that he was the one.

The only one. As crazy as that sounded.

She took Trace’s hand in hers and pressed it to her breast. Though his fragile hold on control was more than obvious, his touch was gentle and unhurried. Claire shivered at his gentleness and the awed expression he wore. He eased closer, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her with such tenderness, tears welled in her eyes. When his gaze again met hers, Claire’s heart ached. The hesitance was back, stronger than ever.

“You are so beautiful,” he said softly, pain surfacing briefly in his steady gaze. Before Claire could manage a response or even attempt to understand, he swept her into his arms and placed her gently on the bed. He brushed a light kiss on her forehead and left her there. Panic gripped Claire until she realized that he hadn’t gone far. With his back to her, she couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, but when she heard the soft sound of the foil as it ripped, she knew. Protection had been the furthest thing from her mind. His thoughtfulness tugged at her heart.

How would she ever learn to live without him when this was over? And it would be over. No matter how strong his feelings for her—Trace Walker had told her he couldn’t offer her a future. He didn’t want permanence... didn’t want ties. No complications... no connections. All he wanted was tonight.

Claire felt the bed shift and she blinked back the tears. He smiled down at her before kissing her trembling lips. With unending patience, he loved her with his mouth and his hands. He left no part of her untouched, unkissed. He wordlessly told her over and over how much he wanted her... how beautiful she was... how perfect. And Claire forgot that, like him, his promises would be gone come morning.

Trace slid a hand between her thighs and stoked the fire he’d started. Higher and higher the flames built. His mouth covered first one breast, and then the other... teasing, lavishing, suckling. “Trace.” She pulled his body nearer to hers, wanting his weight on her... wanting him inside her.

Trace leveled himself between her thighs and Claire instinctively intertwined her legs with his, urging him closer and arching to meet him. Now... now, she wanted him now. He held her hands in his as he touched her lips with his own. Never taking his eyes from her, he pushed inside her... inch by inch... heartbeat by heartbeat. Finally, buried deep inside her, he kissed her with heart-wrenching need.

For a long time, they lay still, looking into each other’s eyes... glorifying in the sensation of simply being joined. And then, almost imperceptibly at first, he began to move. The taste of his lips and the scent of their lovemaking enveloped her. And then the world around her and within her flew apart. Sensing her need, Trace thrust faster, harder. She matched his frenzied movements. It was as if she couldn’t catch up... couldn’t move quickly enough. Climax shuddered down on her, rocking her body hard. Spasm after spasm claimed her, culminating in the final, shuddering release.

Her name escaped his lips on a tormented groan when, in one final explosive thrust, Trace surrendered to his own release. His strong body rested on hers. He pressed his lips to her hair, her cheek. “Sweet, sweet Claire.” He kissed her softly, thoughtfully.

Flesh against flesh, slick with lovemaking, Claire held him tightly to her. A tremendous feeling of happiness and completeness rushed over her as she responded to the promise of his lips. Never had she been loved so thoroughly, so sweetly. But they had no future together. Her heart ached. No matter how wonderful their lovemaking had been, it was only temporary to Trace.

His tender words and gentle touch only deepened the crack in Claire’s heart.

~*~

Trace watched Claire sleep. Thick chestnut tresses caressed her creamy skin. Skin he could still taste. He’d acquainted himself with every hollow and rise of her slender body. A mere sigh crossing those pink, bow-shaped lips would be provocation enough for him to awaken her with the renewed need already mounting inside him.

But he couldn’t bear to wake her. She looked so peaceful, so vulnerable. She had been extremely quiet after their lovemaking. Though making love with her felt more right than anything he’d experienced before, sadness consumed him now. In large part due to his having just lost a big chunk of his scarred and damaged heart.

Something he’d sworn he’d never do again.

Trace exhaled wearily and Claire shifted, then settled. She slept as trustingly as a child in his arms. He couldn’t possibly feel any of this. He refused to acknowledge the emotion by labeling it. It would be a serious mistake. Tonight alone had cost him more than he’d bargained for. If she’d only told him to stop as he’d asked her to do.

But she hadn’t. And he had been far too weak.

He’d been outraged when he’d discovered that she’d challenged his word. No one walked out on him. He said when it was over. But every ounce of anger had turned to desire within moments of entering her apartment. He had tried desperately to think of one good reason why he shouldn’t make love to Claire—any compelling argument to stop before it was too late. But his mind had been incapable of functioning, save for his desire to have this soft, responsive woman in his arms.

Now a million reasons flooded his head like an information implosion. He’d done it. He’d crossed the line. Made love to a woman who meant entirely too much to him and represented all he had worked hard to stay away from, and now he would suffer the consequences.

And there would most assuredly be consequences.

Trace just might not be able to get over this loss. And he was definitely going to lose. He couldn’t control this...

And Claire. He looked down at the sweet face resting against his chest. She wanted a career, had high hopes for the future. He’d only bring her down and she’d wind up hating him... just like Annette. Trace couldn’t allow Claire to love him. He didn’t deserve her love. He dragged around too much emotional baggage. His life was too screwed up to pull anyone else into it—especially Claire. He had accepted the fact that he would be alone for the rest of his life. End of subject.

No one could change that. Not even the woman who’d just turned him inside out and succeeded in thawing his cold heart at least for a few incredible hours.

Trace listened to Claire’s slow, rhythmic breathing, and wanted to stay. That would be a mistake. He had to go. She would expect words he couldn’t say when morning came. Promises he couldn’t make.

He carefully eased out of Claire’s bed, gently placing her head against the pillow. She would be better off without him. He pulled on his jeans and shirt and then tugged on his boots. At the door, he stopped to look back at her one last time. After tonight he would never see her again.

For the first time in almost a decade he would have given anything for his situation to have been different. To be able to reach out and hang on to another person. To Claire.

He swallowed back the regret. One day she would realize he had made the right decision.

When he neared the living room, he noticed a desk lamp on in what he assumed was another bedroom. He pushed the door open farther to find Claire’s study or home office, of sorts. He flipped on the overhead light to get a better look at the numerous framed photographs on the opposite wall. Politicians, celebrities and fans all thrilled to have a pic taken with Claire Carson. He smiled as he looked from one to the next. Everyone loved her. Trace’s heart ached, lonely and desolate. Very soon she would be a household name. She’d forget Trace Walker.

Awards and certificates lined another wall. The woman had been involved with everything from helping the homeless to fighting child abuse. Trace shook his head at the sheer number of committees and campaigns she’d supported as a major player over the past three years. Claire worked hard and gave her all. She was real and down to earth. The limelight hadn’t gone to her head as he’d originally thought. She was nothing like Annette in that respect. Ambition and self-centeredness didn’t rule her as it had ruled his wife. Nobody did all this to help the less fortunate without having a genuinely big heart.

And Claire was happy being surrounded by people. Trace could never live that way.

She would never give up that life.

Not for him... not for anyone. And he wouldn’t want her to.

His gaze dropped to her desk and the brass and silver frames occupying one corner. Trace picked up a picture of Claire and a little girl. The niece, he guessed. According to the file he had on her, Claire had one married brother who had a daughter. Trace stared at the silver-framed picture long and hard. The look of love on Claire’s face made his heart heavy. She looked right at home with a child in her arms.

He glanced down at the remaining brass frame setting on the desk. The niece, her father and mother, Trace supposed. Claire’s brother looked a great deal like her, a couple years older, maybe. Same brown hair and golden eyes. The little girl’s arms were draped around her daddy’s neck, her cheek pressed against his chest. How amazing that must feel, he mused as he touched the smiling faces in the picture, to hold your own child. A part of yourself. He would never know how that felt.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

Startled, Trace looked up to find Claire watching him from the door. The yellow silk robe she’d carelessly donned accentuated her shape rather than covered it. He should have left when he’d had the chance.

“She’s very beautiful,” he said, his gaze steady on hers. “And so are you.”

A timid smile turned her lips upward.
Don’t come any closer, Claire
, he pleaded silently. But she did, and his heart lurched. She crossed the room and took the picture from his hand. Trace drew in a deep, bolstering breath. He tightened his jaw against the groan that rose in his throat.

“Her name’s Shelby. She’ll be in the first grade this fall.”

“She looks like you,” he said, trying his level best to ignore the scent that had already permanently imprinted itself into his memory.

“She looks like my brother,” Claire said and then smiled up at him. “People say he and I could pass for twins.”