Hillbilly Rockstar (11 page)

"Please," she said, her hands moving up and down his arms, her hips writhing against his finger.

"Not yet," he said, moving his hands away from her center. He paused for a moment, nestled between her thighs, his hands itching to touch her again, and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it and the T-shirt he wore underneath off and dropped them on the floor. He pulled off his boots, letting them land on the hardwood with a
thunk
. He rose on his knees over her, releasing his belt and unsnapping his jeans, but didn't them yet. He had to touch her again.

Trace moved his hands up her dress, pulling the spaghetti straps down her shoulders, pushing down the bodice. She wore a lacy, strapless bra. He unhooked the front snap and her breasts fell free.

Trace lowered over her, raining kisses down her face, her neck, her chest. Her beautiful, creamy chest. He nestled his face between her breasts, loving the smell of her, the faint trace of the vanilla perfume she wore. He ran a finger over her nipple, lowered his head, took it in his mouth.

He heard her gasp and her arms wound around his bare back, her legs gripped his thighs. His erection, hard and stiff, was evident even through his jeans, and she moved under him.

"Trace, please." Lisa called out his name, and it took everything he had not to take her right there. But there was so much more he wanted to do now that he finally had her in his arms.

He moved away from her breasts, his hands once more moving under her dress, up her hips, and he grasped the edges of her thong, pulling them down. She lifted her hips and he removed the black lace, over her knees, over her boots.

Trace looked down at Lisa, laying under him, her blonde hair splayed over the white sheet, her green eyes bright with desire, the top of her dress lifting her creamy breasts, the skirt pushed up her thighs, her bare legs open to him, and her boots rising over the curve of her calf. She was a goddess.

"You are so beautiful."  

"Show me," Lisa said, raising her arms above her head and lifting her hips.

Accepting the invitation, Trace lowered his head toward the damp curls at her center, and kissed her intimately.

She gasped, a jolt of electricity running from her core throughout her body. Helpless, her arms shot down her body, down to his head, and she ran his fingers through his dark, thick hair. Lisa writhed under his mouth, his tongue, gasping with pleasure. She clutched his hair in her hands, her body tense as sensation after sensation washed over her. When she couldn't take more, the dam broke. Lisa cried out at the release, her hands pushing his head to her, her hips rising to meet him. Even then, he didn't stop until the tremors eased and she released her grip. Lisa relaxed, lowering herself to the bed, and only then did Trace rise from between her thighs. He moved up over her, kissing her breasts, her neck, her mouth. She tasted herself on his lips.

"Please," she said again, and lifted her hips against him, grinding against his erection.

"I don't have anything," Trace said. "This wasn't planned. Not here, not now."

Lisa rolled on her side, reached for her purse. She unzipped a pocket on the side and took out a foil package.

"It's a good thing I planned ahead, then, isn't it?"

He took the condom from her hand and got up from the bed, just long enough to push his jeans and boxers down to the floor. He pulled off his socks and kicked everything to the side. Within seconds he was kneeling before her again, thick and hard, ready for her.

He pulled the condom on and lowered his body, his hands braced at Lisa's sides, and entered her with a thrust.

Lisa moaned, her hips bucked to meet him, her arms wound over his back to pull him closer. Her earlier orgasm had faded, but more was there, right below the surface. Trace moved within her, his body close, kissing her neck, her face, her lips. His tongue darted in and out of her mouth. She gripped his shoulders, opened her legs wide, thrust her hips against him.

They found their rhythm, his thrusts meeting her rising hips in perfect time. Low gasps of pleasure changed to loud cries. Lisa felt it again, the ebb and flow of current moving through her body, her thighs tightening, her toes curling. She moved up the peak, touching Trace, whispering in his ear, telling him what felt good, telling him where to touch her, consciously seeking her release. Her cries grew louder, desperate, before an orgasm exploded within. As she cried out his name, Trace let himself go.

The orgasm rippled over him, down his legs, tightening his thighs. He pumped up into her again, feeling the contractions inside of her. He continued to move, letting the sensations flow over him. As he felt her relax he stopped, resting his body on top of hers, his breath fast, his brow covered in sweat.

Lisa lay still, unable to move, feeling so much it was impossible to decipher everything. Her breath steadied, her body relaxed under his.

"Wow," Trace broke the silence.

"Yeah, wow." Lisa held him close, holding on to the moment. She held on to everything he'd said to her, everything he'd done to her. Danny's voice was in her head, but in the distance. Her memories of him were fading, being replaced by the man who held her in his arms, the man who'd said she was beautiful. Right here, in his arms, his weight settling into her, his breath in her ear, she believed.

Chapter Thirteen

Lisa sat downstairs at the uncovered kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of her. Trace was at the counter, making his own cup. It had been an hour since they'd made love and cleaned up in the bathroom upstairs. Now it was time to talk about what happened at the studio that day. She needed to know. Lisa fought the urge to check her phone, to call Leon, to explain -- what? There was nothing she could tell him, not yet.

Go easy, she told herself.

"How often do you come out here?" She decided to start with a safe topic -- the house.

"Every few months or so, or when I just want to be alone. That's why I keep the water and power on, and a few supplies, even if it's just instant coffee. If I know I'm coming out here, I bring food." He carried his coffee to the table and sat next to her.

"I'm glad you kept some towels in the linen closet." Lisa smiled at him over her coffee cup.

"Yeah, I don't think drying off with sheets would have worked out too well." Trace carried his mug of coffee to the table and sat next to her. "Well, now you know about the house, you know about the money, you know a little bit about my ex-wife. Why don't you tell me who hurt you?"

Lisa startled at his question. "What?"

"Someone hurt you. I didn't see it before. I guess I'm used to women set on hyper speed, not slow. But you're on slow, and there has to be a reason."

"All right. After what's happened between us, you should know. But I need to know what happened at the studio today." So much for taking it easy.

"Deal." Trace sipped his coffee, wincing at the taste of bitter instant crystals he'd found in the cabinet. "You first."

Lisa took a deep breath and wrapped her hands around her mug to keep her hands from shaking. "Long story short, I married my high school boyfriend, Danny, when I was nineteen. He talked a good talk, I guess. We'd made plans to go off to college, become a success at something. But after we married, he changed."

Despite her white-knuckled grip around her mug, Lisa started shaking, remembering. Trace took the mug from her and set it aside, then took her hands in his. She took a deep breath, drawing from his strength, before continuing.

"Once we married, he decided it would be too expensive if we both went to school at the same time, so he thought he should go first. I wanted to keep the peace, so I got a job and he went to school. At first, he'd tell me about everyone he'd met and what he was learning. After a while, he stopped talking to me, stopped coming home after class. If I questioned him, he'd tell me to shut up or say I was too stupid to follow anything he was learning. I fought with him at first. He started staying gone for days, but when he was home all we did was fight. He called me names, said I was ugly and stupid. I got a promotion at work and he said it was because I was a woman so they had to give it to me. It had nothing to do with doing my job. Then one day he came home with another girl."

Lisa heard her voice crack. She stood, released Trace's hand, paced the kitchen.

"He said the only thing I'd ever been good at was sex, and since this woman he'd met at school was also good at sex he wanted us both. He admitted, right there, he'd been cheating on me. I refused and he gave me an ultimatum - do what he wanted or get out. So I packed a bag. Just before I left he told me I'd be back, I was too stupid to ever make something of myself. There was a part of me that refused to believe him, and that part of me had the strength to walk out. By then we'd been married three years and I'd just turned twenty-two."

"Where did you go?"

"I went home for a while, to Georgia, but I couldn't stay there. So I enrolled in college here in Nashville and stayed. I struggled because of everything he'd said to me. But when I met Charlie, he believed in me. He gave me a job, mentored me. It's taken a long time, but Danny's voice is finally fading."

"I guess I came on too strong, reminded you of him, his demands."

"You did, yes." Lisa returned to the table, sat down next to him. "I could stroke your ego and say you wore me down, but I have a great friend who gave me some advice a few weeks ago. It's because of her I'm here with you now, why I didn't turn you away upstairs. I wanted to see what would happen, what could happen, between us. So here I am."

"Thank God." Trace lifted her hand, kissed it in that romantic gesture she loved.

"Your turn. I need to know what happened before I talk to Leon. Why did you yell at the girl?"

"Yell at the girl? The singer on stage? I didn't yell at the girl, I yelled at the director. The man is an idiot. I was tired and I told him off. He was the one yelling at the girl."

Trace ran his hand through his hair, the damp strands standing on end. "I know the punch and throwing the chair didn't help anything. I was pissed, I was tired. We all were pissed and tired. I guess I was just the one who ended up showing it."

"That isn't an excuse for your temper, Trace. But it gives me something to work with when I speak to Leon."

"We’d been there all day. We were hungry, tired, frustrated with equipment issues. The director was just being a dick. She was doing her best, but she was tired and it showed. She was missing her marks, messing up the song. Nothing was going well. I guess I just lost it."

Trace took another sip of his bitter coffee.

"I shouldn't have let him get to me. I've dealt with pricks before. He wasn't the first, he won't be the last." He sighed, looked her in the eyes. "I have to stay on the show so I can save this place. That's why I took the job. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do. Apologize, accept the blame, anything."

"We'll see what Leon and the rest of the producers want. I don't know how the publicity from the video is going to affect the show." Lisa checked her watch. It was almost nine. "It's late, but I need to get home and call him."

"I guess it's time to get back to the real world, huh?" Trace took their mugs to the sink and rinsed them out. Within five minutes they were back in his truck, heading for Nashville.

###

Lisa hated saying goodbye. In her opinion, it was the worst part of a great date. But she'd checked her phone and saw four missed calls from Leon and two from Patrick. She had to get busy, even if it was almost ten, and work with the show's producer and Trace's agent to get everything back on track.

Trace walked her up the stone walkway to the door of her small house. "I'll see you tomorrow, I hope."

"I think it could be arranged."

He leaned in, kissed her, his hands roaming her body. She shivered, remembering his touch on her bare skin.

At her shiver, he broke away from the kiss. "Cold?"

"No," she sighed. "I don't want to say goodnight yet. But I have to call Leon before he has a conniption."

"Then we won't say goodnight. We'll say, see you later." He leaned in to kiss her again and she wound her arms around his neck, pressing her body close.

Trace lifted his head away from her and gave her a peck on the nose. "See you later." Lisa released her hands from around his neck and let him step back. With a squeeze of her hand, he tipped his hat and headed back to his truck. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, peeking out of the glass panel in the door to see him again. He didn't drive away until she turned out the porch light.

Lisa gave herself a few minutes to relive everything that had happened that night. She wanted to remember everything before she started talking to Leon, Patrick, or anyone else. To buy some time, she carried her purse to the bedroom and changed into her most comfortable pair of sweats. Only after she'd made a mug of tea and sat at the table, her portfolio and notepad at the ready, did she call Leon.

"About time you called back," he answered. Lisa could tell he was annoyed.

"I didn't get a signal. I wasn't in town." Well, it was partially true. "I know about the video, Leon, and I've talked to Trace. I have an explanation, you can spin it however you like."

"Do you know I have reporters saying the show is cursed? And if they don't like that explanation, some say that Michelle wants to do it all herself and she's making the co-hosts' lives miserable. This is what I'm having to deal with."

Lisa took a deep breath and listened to Leon rant. She used the skills Charlie taught her -- Listen to what they say. Remember the key words. Look for the feelings underneath what they are saying. It's not the words that matter, it's the feelings. Repeat it back to them.

"I know the media is rough, Leon. I'm sorry you're having to deal with everything. Would it help to have Trace and Michelle appear together on an entertainment show for an interview? They can clear up the nonsense about a curse or about Michelle sabotaging the show."

Leon paused and Lisa could almost hear gears grinding in the silence as he thought it over.