Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (79 page)

“I’m buying this,” I informed him, holding onto the small plaque.

“No,” he took it from my hand, “
I’m
buying it for you. I’m your husband now,” he kissed the corner of my mouth, “so you better get used to me spoiling you. I know you don’t like it and I let you off the hook while we were dating. But now we’re married. So, it’s my job to take care of you.”

“Fine,” I agreed, “but only because it’s cheap.”

“It wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t. I’d still buy it,” he sauntered off, investigating another part of the store.

I laughed under my breath at him.

I came to the book Margaret had been talking about. I picked it up, flipping through the pages. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to turn pieces of paper into art, but a part of me wanted to try, so I tucked the book under my arm and grabbed one of the kits she’d also told me about. I didn’t think a kit was actually necessary, but if it could help me not suck at origami, then I’d give it a shot. After all, I needed a hobby. With school over, and no permanent teaching position, I needed something to distract my mind.

I met Trace at the register and he paid for the items.

“I’m glad you decided to try the origami,” Margaret commented as she bagged our stuff.

“Me too,” I smiled kindly at her. “Hopefully I won’t suck at it.”

“Origami isn’t that hard, but it does take patience. It’ll take you a couple of tries until you get it right. Just don’t give up.”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Trace assured her, taking the silver bag from her.

“If you live nearby and have any trouble, feel free to swing by and I’ll help you. I’m here every day,” she leaned her elbows on the counter.

“Sorry,” I frowned, “but we’re not from here.”

“I didn’t think you looked like locals,” she laughed. “Enjoy your time here,” she smiled.

“Thanks,” I waved lamely at her as I started towards the door. I looked up at the paper stars one more time before exiting onto the street. There was something about looking at them that made me feel at peace.

Trace’s hand wound around my waist and his lips brushed against my forehead as we continued down the street.

“Did you bring a dress with you?” He asked.

“No,” I shook my head. “Why? Do I need one?”

“Not necessarily,” he shrugged. “I thought if we were going to sing tonight you’d look beautiful in a dress.”

I glanced down at my tank and shorts feeling underdressed. I didn’t want creepy old guys staring at my legs and chest. At least a dress would cover more.

“A dress would be nice,” I admitted.

“Good,” he grinned. “I’m glad you see things my way. I was expecting an argument.”

“Am I really that argumentative?” I questioned curiously.

“No,” his nose wrinkled in thought. “But you’re very stubborn.”

“And you aren’t?” I raised a brow.

“Baby, I’m a go with the flow kind of guy.”

I laughed, heading inside a clothing store.

I scanned through the clothes, pondering what I’d like to wear.

“Hey, look at this!” Trace called from across the store, earning us a glare from the woman working there.

“Trace, keep your voice down,” I scolded, heading his way.

“Sorry,” he grinned so I knew he really wasn’t all that sorry.

“What did you find?” I stopped in front of him, waiting for him to show me.

He pulled out a hanger, showing me a floral corset.

I paled. “No way. I’m not wearing a corset,” I shook my head adamantly.

“Aw, come on, Olivia. You have the body for it. Please,” he pouted, “for your husband?”

I closed my eyes, willing myself not to give into his demands.

“What would I wear with it?” I argued.

His smile was triumphant. “This,” he pulled out a blush colored high waisted skirt. It kind of reminded me of a tutu, but not as poufy.

“And tell me, how did you come to pick this out? You’re not exactly the most fashionable guy,” I pointed at his plaid shirt.

“It was on one of the mannequins in the window,” he admitted with a small shrug of his lean shoulders, “and I thought it would look hot on you. Especially with those shoes,” he pointed.

I turned to see the mannequin he was talking about. It was dressed in the corset and skirt with aqua blue high heels.

“I’ll die in those,” I stated. “They have to be at least four inches.”

“I would never let you fall,” he sighed, in exasperation. “Will you please wear it?”

It
was
pretty cute.

“Fine,” I agreed, after making him sweat it for a moment. “I’ll wear it.”

“Good,” his eyes darkened and his voice grew husky, “because as much as I want to see you in it, I’m going to enjoy taking it off of you even more
later
.”

I shivered at his promising tone.

“Go grab the shoes and I’ll meet you at the register,” he said, already striding away. “If you see anything else you want, get it,” he called.

I shook my head, chuckling at his bossiness.

I found the shoes in my size and tucked the box under my arm. The store had a lot of cute clothes that kept catching my eye, and while I knew Trace would buy me anything I desired, I didn’t want that. I didn’t like being spoiled. It made me feel … dependent. I knew Trace was only being sweet, but I liked working and having my own money to buy things. I understood he had the money to blow, but I’d rather he buy himself something, not me.

“Didn’t see anything else?” He asked, when I met him at the register.

“No,” I smiled.

The look he gave me told me that he didn’t believe me.

“Honestly,” I added, leaning against the counter.

“Alright,” he shrugged, smiling at the sales girl who was currently checking him out. I was used to girls swooning over Trace, so it didn’t really bother me, but it was annoying when they stood there gawking instead of doing their job.

“We’d like this,” Trace pointed to the items on the counter when she didn’t move.

She shook her head harshly, snapping herself out of a daze. “Oh, right. Of course. I’m sorry.”

Trace ignored her, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. He smiled at me sheepishly.

“This is all?” She asked, ringing up the items. “We have some perfumes on sale,” she pointed a finger at a round table set up near the door.

“Olivia?” Trace prompted.

“I don’t want anything else,” I assured him.

“You heard the woman,” Trace laughed.

The sales girl’s gaze flicked my way and jealousy sparked in her eyes. I wondered if Trace was wearing his I Heart Ketchup shirt if she’d still feel that way.

She totaled the items and rattled off the price. Trace handed over his shiny black credit card and let her swipe it. The receipt printed out and she put it in the bag along with the other items. “Have a nice day,” she forced a smile as she handed me the pale pink shopping bag.

“You too,” I said, trying to be polite.

When we stepped outside, Trace grabbed his phone from his pocket, looking at the time. “Let’s head back to the hotel and get ready. That way, we can grab a nice dinner before we head to the coffee shop. I’m sick of fast food.”

“Sounds good to me,” I shrugged, turning in the direction to head back to the car.

Luckily, when we made it back to the hotel, he didn’t try to carry me inside. I dropped my shopping bags on the bed, kicking off my sneakers.

“I’m gonna shower,” he pointed over his shoulder at the bathroom. “Care to join me?” He grinned cheekily.

“I already showered,” I replied, pulling off my socks and knotting them into a ball.

“Alright, fine, your loss,” he shrugged as he entered the bathroom and closed the door.

I knew it wouldn’t take Trace long to get ready, he was a guy after all, so that meant I better get a move on.

There was a floor length mirror hanging on the wall beside the dresser. I stood in front of it, pulling my hair out of the braid and trying to tame the wavy strands by running my fingers through it. I knew from experience that brushing it would only make it turn into a poufy mess. When it was smoothed out I parted it in the middle and took two sections, which I braided and pulled back, securing it with a ponytail holder. I let the rest of my hair hang down past my shoulders. I added some gloss to my lips and some more mascara before touching up the foundation around my eye.

When that was done, I stripped out of my clothes and cut the tags off of the outfit Trace had bought me. The corset was black with varying shades of pink roses. The leaves on the flowers were an aqua blue that matched the shoes. I knew I was going to have to forgo a bra so I really hoped my boobs didn’t fall out. That would be mortifying.

I put the corset on, zipping it closed in the front, and slipping on the skirt. The corset ended above my belly button and since the skirt didn’t come up that far I was left showing more skin than I was used to. I assessed my appearance in the mirror, my belly button ring shimmering in the light. I chewed nervously on my bottom lip.

“A bathing suit shows more skin, Olivia. Calm down,” I told myself, fisting my hands at my sides.

“Are you talking to yourself?” Trace asked as he opened the bathroom door and stepped into the room. Steam billowed out behind him and his dark hair was damp.

“No,” I said a bit too quickly, causing him to smile. “Okay, yes,” I admitted. “But only because this is a bit … revealing,” I frowned at my reflection. “I don’t want people gawking at me.” I had thought I’d get a dress that covered a lot more. Leave it to Trace to pick out something that left me feeling naked.

He strode up behind me and wrapped his arms around my chest, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“You’re beautiful, Olivia. Don’t ever doubt that. Besides, if anyone starts staring at you, I’ll take care of it. You’re mine,” he growled huskily, nibbling on my earlobe, “and I’ll make sure they know it.” He skimmed his nose along my neck and murmured, “Your boobs look really good in this.”

“Trace!” I giggled his name.

“What? It’s true,” his hands skimmed over my stomach and up to cup my breasts. He gave them a light squeeze and stepped back. “Hungry?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed to slip the heels on. “We didn’t eat any lunch.”

“I think there’s an Italian restaurant not too far from here. Sound good?” He asked.

“Mhmm,” my stomach growled. “I love pasta.”

“It’s settled then,” he smiled, grabbing his keys and spinning them around on his finger. “Let’s go,” he held the hotel room door open for me.

I wobbled unsteadily in my heels and he grasped my forearm. “Careful there,” he chuckled, releasing me when he was sure I wasn’t going to fall over.

“Sorry,” my cheeks colored. “But these are really high.”

“I guess I have the perfect excuse to hold you all night,” he winked, letting the door slam closed behind us and setting his large hand above my waist.

“Since when has that stopped you?”

“Good point,” he pushed his hair out of his eyes. He was in need of a haircut but I kind of liked his hair shaggier so I hadn’t said anything. Feeling my eyes on him, his gaze flicked down at me. “Why are you staring at me? Do I have toothpaste on my mouth or something?” He scrubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, stepping into the elevator.

“No,” I laughed. “That’s not what it is.”

“Then what is it?” His hand fell away from his mouth.

“Nothing,” I shook my head, fighting a blush.

“Tell me,” he coaxed in a raspy voice, pushing me against the wall of the elevator and skimming his hands up the bare expanse of my arms.

My eyes fluttered closed and I swallowed thickly.

“Olivia,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my cheek.

“I just …”

“You just what?” He prompted when I lost my voice.

“I like your hair longer,” I admitted.

I opened my eyes to see him smiling. “See? Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I shook my head.

He chuckled, sweeping his fingers over the curves of my breasts. I shivered in response. My mouth fell open slightly and a breathy gasp escaped.

“I love how,” his fingers glided back over my chest, “even after all this time, you’re still affected by everything I do to you.”

I bit my lip to hold back a moan as the elevator doors opened.

I opened my eyes to find a family of four standing in the lobby looking at us with disgust. Oops.

Stifling a laugh, I let Trace lead me out of the elevator and to the car.

“I’m really glad I didn’t have you pinned against the wall, screaming my name. I don’t think they would’ve approved,” he mused.

I punched his stomach and he grunted from the impact.

“What was that for?” He asked, trying to regain his breath.

“What do you think it was for?” I countered. “Can’t you make things sound … not so sexual?” I squirmed.

He grinned boyishly, unlocking the car and holding the door open for me. “Come on, Olivia. Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I totally and completely meant that in a sexual way.”

“You are something else,” I smoothed my skirt down and buckled the seatbelt.

“If by, ‘something else’, you mean wickedly sexy and hilarious, then yeah, that sounds about right,” he chortled.

I didn’t have a comment for that, so I chose to steer the conversation in a different direction. “What song have you picked out for us to sing?”

He squirmed in the driver’s seat, taking an extra-long time to put his blinker on and turn.

“I know you’ve picked one. Tell me,” I coaxed. “I agreed to sing. You don’t need to worry about me running away. Besides,” I pointed to the heels I was wearing, “I don’t think I could run in these if I tried.”

He chuckled at that, scratching his jaw. “I—um—actually was hoping you’d sing by yourself.” My jaw dropped open and he hastened to add, “I’ll play guitar and I’ll be right beside you. It’s not like you’ll be alone.”

“No,” I crossed my arms over my chest. “No way. That’s not happening. I agreed to sing
with
you. Not by myself. I won’t do it,” I glared out the window, fighting an internal panic attack. He
knew
I hated singing in front of other people and it was completely unfair for him to try to trick me like that.