Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (30 page)

I followed Trace to the side of the table where his grandma and Trent were sitting. He pulled out the chair beside his brother and flicked his hand in a gesture for me to sit down. I did and he pushed the chair into the table.

“I knew there was a gentleman in there somewhere,” Warren chortled.

“Gramps,” Trace muttered, “quit it.”

“A little teasing never killed anyone,” Warren winked and took a sip of red wine. “Cecilia!” He called through a doorway I hadn’t noticed. An older Hispanic lady came scurrying into the room. “We’re ready for lunch.”

Cecilia brought out each of our plates, and drinks for Trace and me. She paused by Warren’s chair, waiting for instruction.

“That’ll be all,” he said, “please help yourself to a plate in the kitchen. There’s plenty.”

She smiled, and scurried out of the room, her short black heels clacked against the marble floors.

I took a bite of the roasted chicken. It was coated in a citrus glaze with a hint of basil and the flavors exploded across my tongue.

I was swallowing a bite of garlic-mashed potatoes when Lily asked, “Did you grow up around here?”

“No,” I shook my head. “I grew up in New Hampshire. I came here for college.”

“Oh,” she smiled, “what are you planning to major in?”

“I want to be an English teacher,” I answered nervously.

She beamed. “I was a science teacher before I met my husband. I miss it.”

“Really?” I asked, shocked.

She nodded. “It’s a rewarding job when you’re in it for the right reasons. So,” she cleared her throat, “are you planning on staying here after you graduate or going back to New Hampshire?”

Before I could answer her, Trent nudged my arm. “That’s her backwards way of asking if you’re going to take my brother away. He’s her favorite,” he grinned boyishly. His smile and looks were so similar to Trace’s that it was disarming.

Trace chuckled beside me at his brother’s words and his mom was blushing. “Trent,” she scolded.

“What?” He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s all true.”

I laughed, starting to feel more at ease. I looked across the table at Lily. “I plan on staying in the area. I like it here.”

Trace squeezed my knee under the table.

“Good,” she smiled, “it’s nice here.”

“It is,” I smiled back, “and the people,” I looked over at Trace, “make it even nicer.”

“I told you they were nice,” Trace grinned, showing me around the palatial mansion.

“They’re great,” I agreed.

Trace pushed open a set of double doors and dragged me inside.

I stopped in my tracks, looking around the empty room, with tables and chairs for events stacked against the wall and a stage in the corner. Crystal chandeliers dotted the ceiling and gold sconces were affixed to the walls. The walls shimmered with ivory and gold wallpaper, accented by the shiny marble floors.

“A ballroom? You have a freakin’ ballroom in your house,” I gasped.

“Not my house,” he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes. “According to what your grandpa said, it
will
be yours.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, leading me out to the middle of the floor. “But I never plan on living here. I mean, I grew up here, and I turned out fine,” he grinned like a little boy, “but…it’s kinda…cold. I want a
home
. I don’t want to raise my kids in a palace. I want them to have a normal life, with a dog, and white picket fence.”

I smiled. “You want kids?”

“Well, yeah,” he scratched his head. “Not now, but eventually. Until then,” he leaned down to whisper huskily in my ear, “I’ll have lots of fun practicing.”

I shivered and he chuckled.

Changing the topic completely, he held out a hand for me, and asked, “May I have this dance?”

“But there’s no music,” I laughed, “and you suck at dancing.”

“You wound me,” he winced but with a smile. “Maybe, I just want an excuse to hold you for a little while.”

I shook my head but placed my hand in his outstretched palm. He took advantage and pulled me flush against his body. With his free hand, he pressed my waist against his, and I gasped aloud when I felt the prominent bulge.

I blushed and gazed up at him. With a very bad, fake British accent, I gasped, “Mr. Wentworth, I’m scandalized.”

He laughed. “It’s your fault,” he winked, “you always look so damn hot. Now,” he smiled and his green eyes shimmered, “stop talking and just enjoy the music.”

“But there is
no-
”

He began to hum and we swayed back and forth.

With a light laugh, I laid my head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart.

“Now there’s music,” I murmured.

I didn’t know how much time had passed but it wasn’t long until the doors of the ballroom opened.

I reluctantly pulled away from Trace, and faced Warren, who was leaning against one of the open doors, with his hand on a cane.

“What is it, Gramps?” Trace sounded concerned.

“I wanted to let you two lovebirds know that you’re snowed in,” he muttered. “I called the snow removal company I use and they can’t get here till morning. That’s what we get for living in the boonies,” he thrust a finger in the air. “Regardless, it’s snowing something fierce out there, and not fit for driving. You’ll both stay here tonight.”

“No,” I gasped, “I can’t.”

“Of course you can, darlin’,” Warren covered a cough.

I looked beside me, at Trace, nervously chewing my lip.

“Looks like we’re snowed in,” he grinned, rubbing his hands together. “This is going to be fun.”

It was official. I had the worst luck
ever
.

Honestly, who goes to meet their boyfriend’s family, and ends up snowed in at their McMansion?

This girl, that’s who.

Trace and I ended up hanging out with his brother, and watched movies for most of the afternoon, before eating dinner, and heading upstairs to go to bed.

Trace opened the door to what I assumed was a guestroom, but when he flicked the switch and the room was illuminated, I knew it
had
to be his bedroom. The walls were painted a light gray and the bedspread on the king sized bed was charcoal and red stripes. The tip-off, that it was Trace’s room, was the baseball memorabilia scattered around.

“Nope,” I bumped back into his chest. “Nope, nope, nope,
nope!
I can’t sleep here,” I turned around, and tried to escape out the door, but he was blocking it.

“Yes, you can,” his eyes darkened. “It’s my room, and it’s my bed, and I want
you
in it.”

I gulped. “But your mom and-”

He snorted. “They’re not from the dark ages, Olivia,” he pinched my hip lightly. “Besides, their rooms are all on the other side of the house, and Trent’s room is in the middle. Even if that wasn’t the case, these walls are
really
thick.”

“Trace!” I shrieked.

He answered with a chuckle, and picked me up by the waist, tossing me over his shoulder.

He ran across the massive bedroom and dropped me on his bed.

He gazed down at me and wet his lips. “Now I have you right where I want you.”

“Trace,” I warned but he silenced me with his mouth. He was really good at doing that.

He hovered above me, careful to keep his weight from pressing against me.

I pushed at his shoulders lightly, and he pulled away, gazing at me quizzically.

“We really-”

He cut me off with another kiss.

He pulled away again and pressed his hand against my mouth. “I’m going to keep kissing you until you give in.”

I glared and stuck out my tongue in an effort to lick his hand.

He grinned and wiped his hand on his jeans.

“Try that again, buddy, and I’ll bite your hand,” I cautioned.

“Promise?” He asked with playful wide eyes.

“You’re so weird,” I pushed his shoulder, and he rolled off me onto his back, and pulled me with him so that I was straddling him.

He reached up and cupped my cheek. “We don’t have to do anything, Olivia. I’m perfectly content to lay here and hold you in my arms.”

I snorted. “Yeah, it
really
feels like you’re okay with that,” I ground my hips against his.

He chuckled. “I can take a cold shower. Problem solved.”

Conflicted, I bit down on my lower lip.

I
wanted
Trace, badly. The slow ache building in my core was proof of that, but the thought of his family being in the same house, freaked me out.

“Hey,” he reached up and tugged my lip from between my teeth, wiping away a smidgen of blood I had drawn. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” I asked hesitantly.

He sat up with me in his lap, cradling my bottom in his hands. “Absolutely, Olivia. I would never force you to do something you’re uncomfortable with.”

I leaned my head against his chest and nodded. “I want to…I do…but I can’t.”

He forced my head back so that he could stare into my eyes. “I understand,” he kissed me sweetly. With a grin, he added, “I wouldn’t feel comfortable with your mom around hearing you scream my name.”

I ground my teeth together and narrowed my eyes. “Do you think before you talk?”

“Of course,” he fingered one of my loose curls, “but I enjoy watching your reactions to the things I say. A blush here,” he grazed his fingers lightly over my cheek. “Or there,” he brushed the curve of my ear. “But my favorite,” he looked into my eyes, “is when you blush right
here
,” he skimmed his fingers lightly over my breasts.

My breath stuttered out in short little gasps as I tried to get air to my oxygen-deprived brain.

Trace held out a hand to me. “Want to shower?” My eyes widened and he chuckled. “I promise to be good boy, and go down the hall to take my shower, separate from you.”

“Sure,” I nodded. I knew if Trace got in the shower with me, neither of us would be able to hold back.

He led me through a short hallway in his bedroom. There was a door on the left that he said was his closet and the door to our right was the bathroom. I could see through the archway in front of us that there was even a living room attached to his bedroom.

Trace opened the bathroom door with a flourish.

I stepped inside, looking around at the shiny black floors and countertops, gray walls, and all the fancy finishing touches. My eyes zeroed in on the massive shower that looked more like a car wash. It could have easily fit six people inside.

The amount of knobs and showerheads was scary.

“I’m never going to be able to work that,” I pointed to the shower.

“It’s not as hard as it looks,” he chuckled, “but I’ll get it going for you.”

I watched as he turned several knobs, water spraying out of a rain showerhead, and body sprayers. He checked the temperature and closed the glass shower door.

“I’ll grab you some of my old clothes to wear. I doubt that would be comfortable to sleep in,” he plucked at my dress, “and,” he grinned impishly, “if you sleep naked, I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

Before I had the chance to reply, he strode out of the bathroom, and into his closet. He returned with an old high school baseball team shirt and a pair of boxers. He laid them on the counter, then dug underneath the cabinet, pulling out a cloth and towel. He placed those on the counter and continued to look for something.

“Aha!” He finally chimed and held out a new toothbrush and toothpaste triumphantly. “You should be all set,” he looked around the bathroom, which was quickly filling with steam.

“Thank you,” I smiled, suddenly feeling bashful.

He kissed my cheek, as if sensing my sudden shyness, and closed the door behind him.

I wasn’t in the shower long, just enough to clean my body, and scrub my face free of makeup. I could wash my hair in the morning. I had always hated washing my hair at night and going to bed with it wet.

I dried off, wrapped the towel around my body, brushed my hair out with a comb I found on the counter, and then brushed my teeth.

I pulled on Trace’s shirt and it hung down past my butt but not quite to my knees. I grabbed his boxers and pulled those on as well so I wouldn’t feel so exposed.

I cleaned up the counter and then padded back into his bedroom. He wasn’t back yet and I breathed a sigh of relief. I pushed the covers back and sighed in pleasure at the feeling of the soft sheets rubbing my skin.