Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (41 page)

“I’m
very
aware that you’re a girl,” he smirked, pinching my hip.

I rolled my eyes at his banter.

As soon as my sneakers sunk into the sand, I couldn’t get them off fast enough.

I picked them up, and carried them in my right hand, as I ran through the sand, squealing like a small child.

Trace’s chuckle echoed through the air around me.

Since it was a colder day, we were the only ones crazy enough to be out on the beach, but I preferred it that way. It meant I could act as crazy as I wanted.

Trace caught up to me, slinging me over his shoulder, and spinning me around.

I squealed in surprise and he slapped my butt.

“Put me down,” I beat his back.

“Never,” his voice rumbled.

He ran down the beach, carrying me as if I weighed nothing.

The roar of the water got closer, and I began to panic, twisting in his arms. “Trace! No!”

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, “I’m not going to drop you in the ocean. I only want to get your feet wet.”

He set me down, gently on the sand, and we both rolled up the pants legs of our jeans. He took my hand and we stepped forward.

The icy cold water rolled over my feet and ankles, causing me to scream shrilly.

“That’s cold!” I cried as I backed away so the icy water couldn’t get me again.

“It’s March, of course it’s cold,” he chuckled. “But I wanted you to be able to say you put your toes in the ocean.”

“I can certainly say that now,” I shivered and he wrapped his warm arm around me.

“Mhmm,” he mumbled, kissing the top of my head.

We sat down on the sand, and Trace pulled me between his legs, wrapping his arms around my torso for warmth.

I picked up a handful of sand and watched it sift through my fingers. I loved how when you held a lot of it, or dug your toes into the sand, it felt soft, but when you touched only a few grains, you could feel the rough edges of the rocks they had once been.

“What are you thinking so deeply about?” Trace asked, rubbing his hands up and down my arms.

“Nothing,” I responded. “Just enjoying this.”

I smiled to myself, knowing that one more thing could now be crossed off my list. It was amazing, getting to do these things I had been longing to do, but a part of me wondered, when I had completed everything how would I feel? Would I feel satisfied or incomplete? For two years, doing these things was all I had dreamed of, but now that it was happening, what would I do next?

I picked up as many seashells as I could find, stuffing them into my pockets, and handing even more to Trace.

“Where are you going to put all of these?” He asked, putting a handful in his back pocket.

“In a jar,” I responded, picking up another with pretty pink and white coloring. “I wish I had a bucket,” I mumbled. “That would be helpful.”

“Maybe Avery has one,” Trace snorted, trailing behind me. “It seems like she packed everything else.”

“Who knows?” I shrugged. “She might.”

Trace held up two large seashells to his chest. “You could make a smokin’ hot bikini top with these,” he joked and did a poor imitation of a hula dancer by shaking his hips. I hated to inform him that hula dancers didn’t wear seashell tops.

I rolled my eyes. “Only in your dreams.”

He grabbed me around my waist, letting the seashells fall to the sand. He tickled my side and I giggled as I tried to wrestle from his grasp. “Come on, Olivia. Make my sexy mermaid fantasy come true. Don’t crush a man’s dreams!”

“Never!” I cried, falling to the ground, laughing as he continued his assault.

Sand covered my clothes and hair, but I didn’t mind, because I was having too much fun.

“Stop!” I pleaded. “Please! Stop tickling me!”

“Only if I get a kiss,” he grinned, causing my stomach to somersault. Trace’s smile was lethal. “And a promise that
one
day you’ll wear a seashell top for me.”

“Fine!” I gasped. At this point, I’d agree to anything, if he’d stop tickling me.

He stopped tickling my stomach, and I took a moment to catch my breath, before he stole it once more with his lips.

He gazed down at me with a boyish smile. “If this was a private beach, I’d make love to you right here.”

My body tightened at his words and my hips involuntarily jerked against his.

“You’re not serious?” My eyes widened.

He tilted his head, studying me. “I’m
very
serious, Olivia,” he pressed into me and his erection was obvious.

I swallowed thickly, at a loss of words.

He smirked and rolled off of me.

Standing, he held out a hand, and helped me up. “Like I said,
only
if it was private,” he winked, wetting his lips. “I don’t want anyone, but me, getting an eyeful of you.” Pressing me flush against his body, he brushed his lips against the curve of my ear, causing me to shiver.

“Let’s finish collecting these seashells you seem to love so much,” he chuckled, letting our previous conversation drop.

When Trace and I had both run out of pocket space, and I was chilled to the bone, I decided it was time for us to return to our room. We emptied our pockets onto the dining table. Sand spilled out along with the shells. Maid service was going to hate us.

As the last shell fell from my pocket, I shivered and sneezed.

Trace pressed his hand to my forehead. “You’re a little warm, baby. I knew we shouldn’t have stayed outside for so long.” Concern clouded his eyes.

I sneezed again in reply.

“Come on,” he dragged me into the spacious, nicely decorated bathroom, stripping my clothes. He turned the shower on and the room quickly filled with steam. “Shower,” he helped me inside. “I’m going to the lobby to see if they have any medicine and coffee. You need to warm up.”

“Avery might have medicine,” I joked as he slid the white shower curtain into place, “and for all we know, she brought a mini Starbucks with her.”

Trace chuckled at my comment. “I won’t be gone long. I’ll bring some pajamas in here for you to change into. I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Okay,” I mumbled in reply. I knew there was no point in arguing with Trace. If he thought I was getting sick, he’d play doctor, and that was that.

The shower
did
make me warmer, but I was starting to feel lousy. I had experienced enough colds in my life to know I was getting one. Hopefully, I could sleep it off.

I pulled on the pajamas Trace had left out, and climbed under the covers of the king sized bed, turning the TV on.

A few minutes later, as my eyes were growing heavy, Trace returned.

“Feeling better?” He asked hopefully.

I shook my head no.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he sat down beside me and the bed dipped down. “I got some Advil, coffee, and water,” he laid the coffee, and pill bottle, on the table beside the bed. Then pulled out a water bottle from under his arm. He twisted the cap off the Advil and shook two red pills into his palm. He handed them to me along with the bottle of water.

I took the pills and drank the whole bottle of water. I hoped the medicine would work its magic and I’d feel better in the morning.

Even though it wasn’t time to go to bed, sleep was calling my name.

“What can I do?” Trace asked. He looked so helpless that I felt bad for him, even though I was the sick one.

“I’m tired, I just want to sleep,” I answered softly.

“Okay,” he let out a breath and kissed my forehead. “I’ll let you sleep.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled as my lids closed.

I slept straight through the night, and awoke the next morning, feeling refreshed.

Trace had come to bed at some point, last night, but I hadn’t noticed.

He was on his back with his left arm thrown above his head. I ran my greedy eyes over his bare chest. Trace, shirtless, was a sight I would never get used to. His chest rose and fell in deep sleep and I looked at the clock. It was early, just after six.

I slipped from the bed, and showered, washing my hair.

I brushed the wet strands and pulled it back into a bun on top of my head. I dressed casually in jeans and a loose t-shirt.

I wrote a quick note to Trace and left it beside him on the bed so he wouldn’t worry.

Feeling better. Gone to get breakfast.

-Olivia

I grabbed the spare room key off the counter in the small kitchen and made my way to the lobby.

There were a few people already milling about to get breakfast, but not many.

I was surprised by the selection of food and drinks. You could even make your own waffles.

I opted to toast a bagel with cream cheese and a glass of orange juice. It was one of my favorite things to have for breakfast.

I sat down at an empty table beside the windows and basked in the quiet atmosphere as I gazed out at the dark ocean. The sun wouldn’t rise for another forty minutes or so.

The seat across from me scraped across the tile floor and I looked away from the window to meet Trace’s green-eyed gaze.

“So, you’re feeling better?” He asked, looking me over carefully.

“Much better,” I smiled. I wasn’t surprised that he was awake, and down here, he was such a light sleeper.

“Good,” he seemed relieved. “I was worried you were getting really sick and it would be all my fault.” He drummed his fingers against the tabletop.

“If I got sick, it wouldn’t be your fault,” I shook my head at him and his silliness. “Go get something to eat,” I nodded to the spread of food set out on the bar.

Reluctantly, he pushed back from the table, and made himself a waffle.

By the time he sat down across from me, again, I had finished my breakfast.

He kept glancing at me skeptically, waiting for a cough or a sneeze.

“I’m fine, I promise,” I smiled at him. “I’m going to go get some coffee,” I explained, getting up.

Trace kept looking at me like he expected me to fall over dead or something.

I poured the coffee into one of the Styrofoam cups provided, and then added a heaping amount of sugar, and creamer. I honestly didn’t know why I drank the stuff since I had to doctor it up so much.

I returned to the table and Trace was almost finished with his waffle.

“Are you sure you’re-”

I held up a hand to stop him. “Yes, I’m sure. You have nothing to worry about except for my nerves that you’re wearing out.”

“Sorry,” he grinned sheepishly, adding more syrup to his last bite of waffle.

“I understand that you’re concerned, but you don’t need to be so overprotective,” I said, taking a hesitant sip of coffee so I didn’t burn my tongue.

His eyes narrowed. “When it comes to you, I’ll be as overprotective as I want.”

I shook my head, smiling. “I’m not a kid, Trace.”

“I know,” he chuckled with a small smile. “But I-” He stopped, swallowing thickly. “Never mind,” he wet his lips. “I’ll stop nagging you.”

We ventured back up to the room, and I took my coffee with us, sitting down on the couch. As much as I wanted to go out on the beach, I was afraid to tempt fate, so for the time being, I looked out the window at the ocean.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Trace asked and the worry was clear on his face. I thought it was sweet that he was so concerned, but I didn’t like that he was worrying unnecessarily. Plus, it was getting
really
annoying.

“I’m sure,” I answered, taking a sip of coffee. I didn’t bother to say anything about his promise to stop nagging me. “I don’t plan on going down to the beach today, but I don’t feel sick. Please, don’t worry about me,” I begged.

He ran his fingers through his dark hair, rumpling it further. “I’m not normally a worrier,” he admitted, “but something about you…” He paused, glancing at me. “I don’t want
anything
to happen to you, on my watch.” His voice was soft and his eyes were serious.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Trace,” I took his hand and pulled him down beside me on the couch. “I’m going to get sick and I’m going to get hurt. It’s a part of life. You can’t freak out because I have the sniffles.”

“You’re right,” he groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “You’ll be the end of me,” he chuckled humorlessly.