Beautifully Damaged (Beautifully Damaged series) by L.A. Fiore (7)

In the weeks after I moved in with him I saw the private Trace who was more open and relaxed. One day he surprised me by asking if I wanted to come see him fight. On the ride over to the gym I had pictures in my head of a dark, dank basement with single lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling by wires. In my head the fighters were covered in ink, muscled, hardened, and tough enough to eat glass. I was pleasantly surprised when we pulled up to a small, brick-front gym. Trace parked his bike right on the curb before we headed inside. It looked a lot like the gym Rocky trained in—small and dingy with a ring against one wall and punching bags and weight equipment against the opposite wall. An audience circled the ring as men stood in their corners waiting for the fight to begin. A white-haired man I assumed was the club’s owner, since he had the look of a man very comfortable in his surroundings, engaged the ref in quiet conversation.

I was pulled from my silent study when Trace said, “There’s Rafe.”

My eyes followed the direction he gestured to find Rafe over by the wall, and as soon as he saw us, he started over.

“Lucien should be here too.”

“Who’s Lucien?”

“A friend.” I looked up at him because there was an odd note to his tone.

“What’s that look for?” I asked.

“Lucien’s quite the ladies’ man.”

I almost snorted because I thought he was teasing me but I realized, despite his casual tone, he wasn’t teasing. Our conversation was cut short by Rafe.

“So are you going to place a bet on our boy, Ember?” Rafe teased.

My thoughts immediately moved to Todd, but thinking about him and Lena was just too frustrating so I forced it from my head. “Not this time.”

“I’ve got to go warm up.” Trace turned to me. “Stay close to Rafe.”

There was an edge to Trace, but why? My thoughts took a radical shift when the door of the gym opened and Adonis walked in.

“Yo, Lucien!” Rafe called. Now I understood Trace’s comment. Lucien was dressed in all black, with mahogany-brown hair that was long enough to brush his very impressive shoulders. He was thick in the chest, narrow in the hips, and had a smile that would make a nun pant, but it was his eyes, a color not quite blue or green, that were truly spectacular. A ladies’ man, oh hell yeah.

He moved through the crowd with the same grace and deliberateness that Trace had mastered. Almost every woman’s head turning was proof of his appeal. He regarded Rafe first and then those eyes turned on me. The smile was one I was sure he had bestowed on countless women before me.

Everything about him spoke of control, power, and sex.

“Rafe.” His husky voice conjured visions of leather and lace. “And you must be Ember.”

For all of his appeal, he didn’t hold a candle to Trace. Despite that, I still felt my heart rate speed up before I replied, “Hi.”

Hi? What a spectacular opening line.

“Lucien. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

The announcer called the fight and Trace appeared, chasing thoughts of Lucien from my head. He was dressed in kickboxer pants, the muscles of his chest and arms bunching and cording as he warmed up. He didn’t wear gloves since he preferred to fight bare-knuckled. He was completely in the zone, and then quite suddenly he turned and our eyes locked. I felt that stare like a lover’s caress and then he winked at me just before he turned his attention back to the ring. A warmth spread through me in response to that shared moment just as Lucien spoke up. I had completely forgotten he was there.

“He’s fighting Ian Campbell. Ian might have size but Trace has the moves.”

It was only then that I looked to see who Trace was fighting and gasped when I saw him.

“He’s fighting him? The man’s a tank.”

“Yeah, but Trace is quick on his feet,” Lucien said and then added, “He can’t hurt Trace if he can’t touch him.”

I looked at the size of the paws on the beast Trace was fighting and blurted out, “One hit is all he’ll need.”

“They’ve fought before.” I knew Lucien offered that tidbit as a way to alleviate my distress, but nothing outside of Trace climbing out that ring was going to do that.

The bell sounded and I felt my stomach drop, but it only took a few minutes of watching Trace to understand Lucien’s confidence in him. He really was quick on his feet, moving around the ring like a lightweight and not the six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-forty-five-pound man that he was. I’d enjoyed watching boxing with my dad and had often heard him comparing boxing to dancing. I had to admit that there was a elegance about how Trace’s body moved. When he connected a punch you could see how his entire body took the shock of it. I knew it had to hurt, but you’d never know from looking at him. Watching Trace I also had to agree with the observation Rafe made that day in Starbucks, that Trace fought to release his rage. There was a ruthlessness about Trace when he fought—as if each punch was purging him, but of what?

He was clearly the favorite since every time his punches landed, the crowd roared in approval and when he took a hit, they cursed.

“Do you see the way he pulls him in and then fakes him out? It’s fucking poetry in motion,” I heard Rafe comment to Lucien. He wasn’t wrong.

The fight lasted eight rounds but after an uppercut to the head and jab to the gut, Ian went down hard. He didn’t even try to get up. The crowd roared but I kept my eyes on Trace in the hopes that he would look over at me again. I was not disappointed. And this time, I winked at him.

Most of the fans were gone by the time Trace returned from the locker room. He moved to stand at my side and one look at his face made me reach out to gently touch him. The bruises had already begun to form along his jawline and under one eye.

He reached for my hand and linked our fingers before he turned his attention to Lucien and Rafe. “You up for a drink?”

“Hell yeah, and I’ll even pay since you won me a nice chunk of change,” Rafe said.

“Is that good with you?” Trace’s question pulled my attention. That this was the same man who just pounded the shit out of a walking tank was almost hard for me to believe. The evidence of his savage fight was blooming on his skin and yet now there was patience and what looked like tenderness staring back at me.

“A drink sounds great.”

There was a small tavern next to the gym. A long, scarred bar took up one wall and was packed with men drinking beer and watching some game on ESPN. Based on the uniforms of the patrons, the place was definitely blue collar. It was exactly the kind of place my dad and his buddies liked to frequent.

We settled at one of the tables just as our waitress approached. She wore a tight black skirt and a white blouse that was opened low enough to show off her ample breasts. From a distance she looked young, maybe late twenties, but I realized as she grew closer that she was actually well into her forties. At one time she would have been a knockout but now she just looked tired and worn.

“I heard it only took you eight rounds to take down Ian, nice. So what can I get you?”

Trace looked at me, “Beer okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Beers all around, Kay.”

“You got it.”

I watched her walk away and wondered what a day in her life was like. Is that what Professor Smythe meant by realism?

“So how did you two meet?” Lucien’s question pulled me from my thoughts.

Before I could answer Trace said, “She slugged a guy and I had a front-row seat.”

Like Trace, Lucien’s expression gave nothing away. “Really?”

“He was being a jerk.”

Lucien’s eyes twinkled with mischief before he said, “Nice.”

Hoping to change the subject I asked, “What about you guys, how did you all meet?”

It was a fair question, but a slight hush settled over the table. When Lucien finally did answer me, I got the sense he wasn’t really telling me the whole story.

“Just moving in the same circles. I’ve seen a few of Trace’s fights, he’s been into my clubs.”

“Clubs, plural?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“So you’re an entrepreneur.”

There was humor sparkling in his eyes when he said, “Sure. So what do you do, Ember?”

“I want to be a writer.”

“A writer. What made you want to do that?”

I fiddled with my beverage napkin as I answered him. “Real life can be hard, so one day I started writing down what was in my head as a means of escape. Writing provided solace even if it was just for a short time.”

It was a small revelation but a definite step forward when I realized that Trace and I had that in common, the need to purge what troubled us. Of course, I didn’t know what troubled him, really didn’t know all that much about him, which was decidedly a major step back.

Trace’s focus never left me when he said, “She’s got a hell of a voice too.”

“A musician. Very nice. Do you play as well?”

“Piano.”

“We should play sometime.”

That made me turn my attention to Lucien. “You play?”

“Saxophone.” He tilted his head and contemplated me for a minute before he said, “You find that odd.”

“No, not odd, just surprising. An entrepreneur who also plays music.”

“Everyone should have a hobby. I don’t trust people who don’t have a hobby or a vice. This one…” he pointed to Trace, “pounds on people’s faces but me, I’m more subtle.”

“And you, Rafe?” I asked.

He looked almost embarrassed before he replied, “I like working with my hands, woodworking mostly. It’s not just a hobby, it’s actually what I do.”

I was intrigued since I knew so little about Rafe so I asked, “What do you make?”

“Furniture mostly—tables, chairs, hutches. That kind of thing.”

“I’d love to see your work.”

“So would I,” Lucien muttered.

I settled back in my chair and, for the rest of the evening, enjoyed the company of these three unlikely friends.

At the sound of my cell phone buzzing I pulled myself from my writing and answered it.

“Hey, Ember. How are you?”

“Uncle Josh!” I had spent the past two days since Trace’s fight putting in long hours on my new book, so this interruption was most welcome.

“I know this is last minute, but I’m in town and wanted to know if you’d like to go out for dinner.”

“I would love to.”

“Great, I can pick you up at your apartment, maybe around five? I’d love to catch up.”

The apartment. I hadn’t yet told my dad that I was no longer living with Lena or that I was now living with Trace. I knew I needed to—and soon—but I just wasn’t quite sure how to handle that conversation.

“Actually, I’m not living with Lena anymore. We had a falling out. I’m staying with a friend.”

My uncle’s damn intuition caught me. “And does this friend have a name?” he asked.

I lowered my voice hoping that maybe he wouldn’t hear my answer when I said, “Trace.”

There was a moment of silence before my uncle said, “Well, perhaps your friend can join us this evening.”

I resisted the urge to bang my head on the desk and replied, “I’ll ask him.”

“Delaney’s, five o’clock, does that work?”

“Yes, Uncle Josh. I’ll see you then.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

I dropped my phone on the table and moaned. I understood my uncle’s concern, but the thought of witnessing the interrogation I had no doubt Uncle Josh was going to subject Trace to was almost too much to bear. I wasn’t even sure what was going on with Trace and me, so grilling him for those answers would drive him away from me as far and as fast as possible.

The thought popped into my head to not mention the dinner to Trace and just tell my uncle he was busy, but I was a terrible liar and Uncle Josh was like a dog with a bone when he wanted something. It was what made him such a good private investigator. This fact had me banging my head on the desk, several times in fact, before I stood and made my way down the hall to the living room. Trace was sitting on the sofa reading through some papers when I entered. He looked good, sitting there, comfortable. Maybe Uncle Josh’s grilling wasn’t such a bad idea because I really wanted to know more about this man and he didn’t seem all that eager to share. Maybe I’d even get more insight into the significance of that article in his storage unit.

“Ember?”

“My uncle Josh just called. He invited us to dinner.”

There came the slightest of hesitations before he asked, “What time?”

“Five.” His expression was clear; he thought that was too early for dinner, but what he didn’t know was that Uncle Josh was going to use the extra time to grill him for information.

“Okay.”

I settled on the sofa next to him. “Just like that?”

He affectionately tugged on a strand of my hair before he said, “Yeah. So is there anything I should know about your uncle?”

He was teasing me but I answered him anyway. “Well, he’ll probably ask a thousand questions, hazard of his job and all.”

“What does he do?”

“Private investigator.”

An indiscernible look swept over his face, but he offered no insight into what caused it so I continued on.

“He wasn’t always. He used to work on the docks with my dad, but after my mom died he became obsessed with trying to learn what happened to her. As a private citizen you can’t gain access to most of the sources needed to investigate a case like hers. He always said it was the not knowing that was the hardest. After her case went cold my uncle quit his job and went back to school. Unfortunately, the case is so old that the likelihood of him finding any answers now is very remote even with his increased access.”

Trace stood abruptly. “I have some things I need to do before dinner.” He reached for his papers and disappeared from the room.

Typical.

We arrived at Delaney’s a little before five but my uncle was already there. His back was to us but when he turned, I saw his face; it was so much like the one in the photos my dad was forever showing me, it caused tears to burn the back of my eyes. He was my uncle and my mother’s brother, but seeing him made me see her. I couldn’t help it when tears started trailing down my cheeks.

As soon as his blue eyes looked into mine, I found myself pulling from Trace and walking right into his embrace. He held me closely and I could hear the tears that he was trying to hold back as he spoke.

“You look so much like your mother.”

“So do you.”

“God, I’ve missed you and that pigheaded father of yours.”

I glanced up as he looked down at me. “I might not be a private investigator, but I’m still going to find out what you fought about that was important enough to keep you two apart for as long as you’ve been.”

He smiled as he touched my cheek. “I can tell you that now. I told your father that he needed to move on, date, and marry again so that you would have a woman’s influence. You were getting older and your dad frequently mentioned how you were struggling to fit in with girls your own age. I thought a mother figure could help to smooth out the transition for you. I knew he loved my sister, but I didn’t realize how much until he turned from me—more interested in holding onto a ghost than truly living. At least that’s what I thought at the time.”

“And now?”

“He loved her—still does. Having never experienced that kind of love, I don’t understand it, but I should have respected it. Not to mention that my arrogance implied he wasn’t cutting it as your father. I couldn’t imagine being a single parent, especially becoming one because of such a tragic loss.”

I couldn’t help my smile. “Am I sensing a reconciliation between you and my dad in the near future?”

“I hope so.”

“It’s about time.”

I pulled from him, but kept his hand as I turned to Trace. “Uncle Josh, this is Trace Montgomery. Trace, my uncle Josh.”

Trace took a step toward us.

“It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise. Let’s get a table.” I knew that look. Uncle Josh was just waiting to pounce and he didn’t disappoint. As soon as we were seated, he let the questions fly.

“So what do you do Trace?”

Trace had no visual reaction to the question and answered it with the same directness that it was asked. “I fight, amateur status.”

“Your address is pretty posh for a amateur fighter.”

I was outraged. “Uncle Josh, you investigated him?”

He was completely unrepentant. “Cursory, nothing probing.”

Trace seemed completely unfazed. “I have family money and some investments that have done rather well.”

I was outraged, yes, but I couldn’t lie, I liked learning more about Trace.

“How did you meet Ember?”

A slight smile touched Trace’s lips as his eyes moved from my uncle to me. “We were at a club. She punched a guy, I stepped up to make sure he didn’t punch her back.”

It was Uncle Josh who was outraged now as he turned to me and practically roared, “You punched a guy? What the hell were you thinking?”

“He was being rude.”

“So you punched him?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

I could tell my uncle had more thoughts on that subject but he moved on. “What happened with Lena?”

“Her boyfriend’s a creep and I didn’t want to be near him. She disagreed so I moved out.”

“Obviously the CliffsNotes version but I get it. So you’re staying with Trace.”

“I didn’t have anywhere to go, and he offered me a place to stay.”

His next question was aimed at Trace. “And your intentions?”

“To make her happy.”

My head almost snapped off my neck with how fast I turned to look at Trace. What a thing to say and the sincerity I saw in his expression made it that much sweeter. Uncle Josh leaned back in his chair and smiled.

“Good answer. Let’s order, I’m starved.”

I wasn’t sure what caused the change in Trace but he grew increasingly more distant after our evening with my uncle. The glimpse I caught of a more carefree Trace was just that, a glimpse, and if anything, he was more reserved and brooding than he’d ever been.

Sometimes it felt as if he didn’t even remember that he was sharing an apartment with me, but then I’d catch him watching me and I could only describe the look on his face as longing. I really didn’t understand why he seemed so determined to keep away from me, when clearly we both wanted the same thing. We lived under the same roof but he had definitely drawn a line in the sand. I had never been in his room. Occasionally he had come to mine, where we would lay in bed and talk for hours. A few times he had even fallen asleep but every morning I woke up alone. But after our dinner with Uncle Josh, he ignored me completely. I wanted to ask him what was causing his change in behavior toward me but he was rarely in the apartment anymore.

One night, two weeks after our dinner with my uncle, I was curled up on the sofa with my laptop when there was a knock at the door. I pulled it open to see a beauty of a woman standing there—the woman from the charity event at Clover.

She looked at me from head to toe and back again, and I could tell she thought me no competition before she purred, “Is Trace here?”

My heart just stopped as a numbness stole over my limbs. It was difficult to talk around the lump that had formed in my throat, but I managed. “No, he’s not here.”

“He told me seven.”

It hurt, that damn organ in my chest, as I held the door open for her.

“Would you like to wait inside?”

She brushed past me as if she owned the place before she settled herself on the sofa, her eyes flickering to my laptop. There was a shrewdness to her when she asked, “Who are you to Trace?”

Good question and one that I didn’t have to answer, since at that moment the door opened and Trace walked in. I watched as those eyes moved from me to his date and back again.

“Are you ready, Heidi?”

“Yeah, baby.”

He walked to her and reached for her hand, linking their fingers. The sight left tears burning the back of my throat. His eyes stayed on me as he brushed his lips over Heidi’s before he patted her on the ass and said, “Wait outside for a second. I need to talk with Ember.”

“Hurry,” she all but moaned.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at Trace so I watched as Heidi sauntered from the apartment. The flatness of his voice reluctantly pulled my attention.

“How’s the apartment hunting going?”

That question was like getting my legs kicked out from under me. “I haven’t really been looking. I was under the impression you wanted me to stay here.”

“You were pretty clear you didn’t want to make this a permanent arrangement. I’ve curbed my lifestyle so I don’t make you uncomfortable, but that’s not a solution that’s going to work for me long-term.”

And the hits just kept coming. “Are you kicking me out?”

“Of course not, I’m just offering a nudge. If we come back here, we’ll try to be quiet.” He looked at me from over his shoulder and added, “But fair warning, Heidi’s a screamer.”

I stood there long after he left, wondering what the hell that was all about. Two weeks ago he’d said he wanted to make me happy and now he was kicking me to the curb. Shock had my brain muddled but when that subsided I remembered Rafe’s warning to me. Was it possible that I was getting too close and Trace was pushing me away? How many people in his life got too close? Only two that I knew of had hung on.

Walking away was safer but nothing worth having came easy. If I was wrong, I’d have a broken heart, but if I was right, there was a chance that if dug in my heels, I may just crack Trace’s hard exterior. I was certain that there was something worth the effort underneath.

Over the next week, Trace and I waged a silent war. He continued to try and push me away with his dismissive and callous attitude and I countered by being bubbly to the point of clueless. I wasn’t immune to his behavior, but I wasn’t about to let him see that. The harder he tried to pull from me, the more understanding I became. He brought Heidi around two more times, but after the last date when I told them to have a good time and if they wanted, I could make myself scarce, he stopped bringing her around. I’d called his bluff and we both knew it. A few times I saw a crack in his outer shell, he who didn’t show emotion, and the sight of his annoyance and frustration was very gratifying.

After a week of battling the obstinate and hardheaded man, I needed agreeable company, so I called Kyle. We met at our favorite Italian place, where I ordered a bottle of wine. I was tempted to ask for a straw, but I suspected that would be frowned upon.

“All right, spill. Are you winning the war?” Kyle was never one to beat around the bush.

“No and it’s tiring, but I won’t give up because I know his actions and his words don’t jive.”

“And you are just contrary enough to find a challenge in that,” Kyle said.

“I am but I’ve seen the way he looks at me when he doesn’t think I’m paying attention. He isn’t indifferent and frankly I think he’s worth fighting for, even if it’s him I’m fighting.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“I have no idea. He’s so damn pigheaded.”

“Seems to me if you called his bluff once then you can do it again.”

“Meaning?”

“He wants you to find another place to live, so tell him you have.”

“That could backfire.”

“Yeah, but you can always stay with me and at least you’ll know.” He leaned closer before he added, “From what you’ve told me of him, he’s very protective of you, so paint a picture of a living situation that you know he’ll object to.”

“Kyle, that suggestion is both diabolical and juvenile.”

“All is fair in love and war.”

I lifted my glass to him in salute. “Amen to that.”

The following morning, I took Kyle’s suggestion. I caught Trace in the kitchen cooking something on the stove and took a seat at the island. “I’ve been apartment hunting and I found a place I like.” I saw his body stiffen, but I just continued on.

“I’m moving out, but I thought you should know that I would like to stay.”

A part of me hoped he’d take that moment to say, “Yes, stay,” but he didn’t so I surged on.

“Thank you so much for letting me stay here.”

He remained completely still and if I hadn’t witnessed the tensing of his shoulders, I wouldn’t have thought he’d heard me at all. I was going to continue with the charade, but based on Trace’s lack of response, I wasn’t entirely sure I was right about him. Maybe he really did want me gone. “Well, I better go start packing.”

I hurried from the room as those damn tears started. I hadn’t realized that Trace had followed me until he spoke. “Do you have a roommate?”

I looked up at him and though he looked calm, I had the sense that he was actually more like a hurricane off the coast with all of that deadly energy stirring to life. Hope sprung.

“Yeah, some guy. He seems nice enough.”

“You’re going to live with a man you don’t know?”

“Why not? I’m living with you and I don’t know you either. You try really hard to make sure I don’t know you at all. Besides, you don’t want me here and I can’t afford the luxury of living on my own.” His hands actually balled into fists and it looked as if he wanted to rip something to shreds. His contrary behavior stirred my own temper.

“What exactly is the problem?”

“You don’t even know this guy.”

“No, but why the fuck do you care? You parade that bitch Heidi in my face. This is what you wanted!”

He was clenching his jaw so hard I thought he might actually break a tooth.

I continued. “Look I get it. There’s a whole part of you that you are unwilling to share. You don’t want people close and it’s easier for you to stay alone so you don’t have to be human. You want to be a cyborg? Then be one, but you don’t get to push me away one minute and then get pissed the next because I did as you wished. You didn’t give me a say. You decreed how it was going to be between us, so now you have to sit back and shut the fuck up!”

The range of emotion that crossed over his face was startling, especially for someone who was so good at hiding behind a mask. For just a moment, I saw past the armor and the indifference to the damaged man underneath. Tears stung my eyes at the look of self-loathing and hatred that burned from those steel-blue eyes.

“God, Trace, what happened to you?”

“I can’t hurt you like this. I do want you here.”

“Then why are you pushing me away?”

“You deserve better than me.”

“Heidi?”

“My attempt to prove that point to you.”

“Is that why you’re never around, why you encouraged me to move out?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He moved with startling speed to stand just in front of me. His eyes were dark and wild as he reached for my hand to press it to the hard length of him.

“This is all I have to offer you. Sex is all I’m good for and you deserve more than that, more than a shag from a guy who’s fucked half the city.”

“All you have to offer or all you want to offer?”

He laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound as he moved away from me to pace the room before he stopped to level me with eyes that were filled with conflicting emotions.

“I’d give it all to you—but me—I’m not a good bet. You deserve a man worthy of you. I want you. I can’t think straight; I want you so fucking badly, but I’m shit and I always will be.”

“What if I disagree?”

“Eventually, you’d come to realize the truth.”

“Why do you hate yourself so much?”

“It’s what I know.”

I walked over to him and took his hands into mine. “I want you too. I want to be with you. Let me in. Let me close to you.”

Determination squared his shoulders. He truly believed he was doing this for me, which made me say, “If you don’t want to take a chance on me I get it, but you should know the damage is done because for me, it’s you.”

He said nothing—just stood there looking at me with an expression that broke my heart, and then he pulled his hands from mine, turned, and walked away. It hurt, watching him go. It hurt so much that I had trouble drawing in a breath as I settled on the edge of the bed and let my tears run down my cheeks.

I gave Trace time after our fight. I knew he needed it as much as I did. He hated himself, and by the look he gave me before he left the room, he really truly hated himself. It was that look, more than anything, that made me reach for my phone later that night.

“Rafe, where’s Trace?”

It sounded like relief in his voice when he offered, “He’s here, at the gym.”

I hung up and grabbed a cab. I got to the gym and I could hear the cursing from the street outside. I moved through crowds, but stopped when I felt a hand on my arm. I looked up to see Rafe, but his expression was grim.

“I’m really glad you came.”

I felt dread. “Why?”

He gestured to the ring. “He’s letting them pound on him.”

I turned to see Trace in the middle of the ring with his back and chest covered in large, purple welts. An ugly, blackish-purple mark over his ribs on the right side was clearly the pooling of blood from cracked or broken ribs, but it was the sight of his face that made tears stream down mine. He was so bloody that I couldn’t even see his features. I watched as he made no attempt to dodge the blows, taking the pounding over and over again. It was a testament to his strength that he could take that kind of beating and still be standing.

I stood there for ten minutes watching as Trace allowed himself to be hammered and then, as if he’d grown tired of it all, he moved with lightning speed and leveled his opponent with one solid punch to the jaw. The crowd went berserk, but Trace just stood there.

Seeing him standing alone in the midst of a crowd provoked me to go to him. I reached the ring and climbed under the ropes. I didn’t know what he was thinking about, if anything—he didn’t realize my presence until I reached for his hand. His eyes moved to our hands before he lifted his gaze to my face and it was then that I saw how desolate he looked. I threw my arms around his neck and pressed myself against him. I felt the shudder that went through his body and then he reached up and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, before burying his face in my hair.

Rafe helped me get Trace home and made me promise that I’d call him if I needed anything. Trace was standing in the bathroom looking in the mirror when I returned from seeing Rafe out.

“We should get you cleaned up,” I said, which made his eyes find mine in the mirror.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m not willing to let you go without a fight.”

“I’m not good for you.”

My voice was harsh as I took a step closer to him. “I don’t know who it was in your life that made you believe you were worthless, Trace, but if I ever find out I intend to beat the shit out of them. You are good for me. You are special. You have more to give than you give yourself credit for.”

He responded by pulling me into his arms. When he spoke, his voice broke. “I should push you away, far away from me, but I can’t.”

“I don’t want you to push me away.”

In the morning, I awoke in my bed surprised to find that Trace was still in my room. I had asked him to stay with me so I could check on him during the night but I hadn’t expected that he would.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.” I couldn’t ignore the one question that kept rolling around in my head: Who’d fucked him up so badly? The fact that he didn’t speak of his family made me guess it was either his dad, mom, or both.

“You look beautiful.”

I smiled. “Sweet talker. Stay here and I’ll whip us up some breakfast.”

I started from the bed, but Trace’s hand reached up to stop me and when I looked back at him, his expression had turned serious.

“Are you sure about this?”

I sat on the bed, cross-legged, and took his hand into mine. I feared how badly he’d been abused, since the influence of it still haunted him.

“Someone really did a number on you.” I felt him stiffen as he attempted to take his hand back, but I held firm.

“Listen to me.” He had that look about him, the blank detached one, but he allowed me to keep his hand so I took that as him acquiescing and continued on.

“I don’t know what they did to you and I hope one day you’ll trust me enough to tell me, but how you feel about yourself is wrong. You say you’re only good for one thing. How can you say that when the first time I met you, it was because you saw a man mistreating a woman and you stepped in?

“That sense of right and wrong, and having the courage to act when you see an injustice, is as much a reflection on the man you are as those tattoos. As far as your belief that you are not good enough for me, the only area I see where I have a leg up on you is that I came from a loving family. The fact that you didn’t isn’t a reflection on you, but on your miserable parents. And sex, I think you use it as a way of seeking value, and as much as I want and plan to have sex with you, I already see your value so for me sex is the colorful ribbon, but you are the prize.”

A rainbow of emotions played over Trace’s face, but his eyes, when they looked into mine, were wary yet hopeful. “There’s some really bad shit in my past, shit that may have you walking out if you knew.”
I was in love with him. It was too soon and there was so much I didn’t know about him, but I loved him, even more so because under that hard shell, there was tenderness and pain. I wrapped my hands around his face and pressed my mouth to his. I showed him without words what I felt for him. For a moment he was utterly still and then his mouth moved under mine. The kiss started out as a tender affirmation, but it had been so long and I wanted to connect with him on every level, wanted him body and soul. He wanted it too when he took over the kiss, taking his time as his lips, tongue, and teeth savored me with their very thorough tasting. He rolled to pin me under him and I felt the pull, deep in my belly. When Trace started to move, hitting the spot that was starting to ache, it felt unbelievably good even through the layers of our clothes.

His hands moved down along my sides right before he fisted my nightgown and lifted it up over my head. His focus was completely on me, and seeing him looking at me with such heat made my entire body hum with desire.

It was the barest of touches as his finger traced my collarbone and down the valley between my breasts. I inhaled sharply. He pulled my panties down my legs and, remembering the last time, I reached to cover myself.

“Don’t. I want to look at you.”

It was the rawness of the request that made me drop my hands just as he stood and gripped his boxer briefs. He lingered a moment, pulling my attention from the hard ridge pressing against the cotton to his face, only to see the grin that tugged at his mouth as he teased me. And then he was pulling his briefs down his legs so that I saw all of him, gloriously naked and aroused, and all I could think was…

Oh.

My.

God.

Before I could react in any other way, strong arms wrapped around me and pulled me farther onto the bed. I had just a moment to see the heat in his eyes and then his mouth closed over mine. It was erotic, his kiss, like he was feeding off of my desire for him. He looked slightly wild when he lifted his gaze to me just as his finger brushed over my nipple.

“You’re so beautiful.”

I couldn’t speak because he was turning me mindless as he rolled that peak between his thumb and forefinger, pulling slightly, which caused an ache to shoot right down between my legs. He lowered his dark head and took my nipple into his mouth. It wasn’t even a conscious action when I lifted myself up to offer him more and he took it. He was driving me crazy and with it came boldness. I wanted to brand him the way he was me, as my hands moved over him, claiming him as I traced the muscles of his abs, the corded muscles framing his spine, the ridges on his arms, his ass.

My hips started to move against him, rubbing the spot that was aching to the point of pain. Trace’s mouth moved over me, fanning kisses under my breasts, over my stomach, his tongue taking a moment to lap at my navel. When he reached my inner thigh, he looked up at me with a naughty grin curving his lips just before his tongue touched the part of me that I so wanted him to touch.

He teased the throbbing nub with his tongue, bringing me to the brink of orgasm only to back off. Moisture pooled between my legs and I was mindless to everything but what Trace’s mouth was doing to me. I cried out when he pushed his tongue deep inside of me. I grabbed his head to hold him there while my hips instinctively moved against his penetrating tongue.

His fingers replaced his tongue and the intrusion felt mind-numbing. My body grew greedy, wrapping around those fingers as my hips moved to take them deeper. My entire body seemed to draw into itself, like oxygen being sucked from the room just before a flash burn.

“Come for me, Ember,” Trace demanded hoarsely.

Our eyes locked just before he flicked the small nub of pleasure with his tongue and just like that, I did. My eyes closed while pleasure moved over me in waves. Like the last time, it was intense and addicting, crave-worthy and, still riding the high, I already wanted to feel it again. I felt sated and so relaxed when I opened my eyes, only to find that Trace was steadily watching me.

I wanted a turn, wanted to explore him as thoroughly as he did me. I felt my cheeks warm just thinking about it because—though I had experience in giving a man pleasure, the Creep made sure of that—I had never before hungered to taste my fill.

“Could I…I mean, would you like it if I did that to you?”

He didn’t have to answer; the look of stark lust on his face was enough.

He rolled onto his back and I got a really good look at all of him and, wow, was the man big everywhere. I was shamelessly ogling him when he offered softly, “Touch me, Ember, I want you to be as comfortable with my body as you are with your own.”

With the Creep I never wanted to touch him for fear of doing it wrong. But with Trace I felt like I was at a banquet and he was the feast. I couldn’t decide where to start so I started at the top as I sat up, leaned over, and pressed a kiss on his mouth. I could taste myself on him and damn was that hot. I felt my blood pounding in my veins as I trailed my lips down his neck and over his shoulder. He had given so much attention to my breasts that I wondered if he would like the same. I could taste the salt on his skin as my tongue trailed a line from his collarbone to his pec, where I flicked his nipple with my tongue. I felt the muscles in his chest tighten and took that as a good sign before I closed my mouth over it.

I never knew that pleasuring someone could be so pleasurable. I felt the ache starting again, the knot of lust in my belly, as I moved my mouth lower over the individual muscles of his abs. When I reached his navel, I kissed around it before I lapped at it like a cat with a bowl of milk.

I looked up at him to see he was watching me so intently, but he held himself completely still, allowing me to explore his body in any way that I wanted. That gesture only made me feel more confident—confident enough to move lower down his body. I stared hungrily at the hard length of him and wanted to fill my mouth with him. I was both shocked and turned on by the near-mindless want that I felt for him.

I straddled his legs and wrapped my hand around him, and he inhaled harshly. I immediately removed my hand.

“Did that hurt?”

His voice was raw when he replied, “In a really fucking good way.”

I grinned—I couldn’t help it—as I continued my exploration of him, running my thumb over the tip before tracing the veins along the shaft. He was so hard but his skin was smooth as silk.

I wrapped my hand around the length of him again and felt his entire body react. I moved my hand up, squeezing him as I did, which made him close his eyes and moan. By the way his hips were moving against my hand, I knew that he liked what I was doing. It wasn’t enough, though. I wanted to taste him, so I lowered my head and tentatively licked him. He went still, the muscles in his abs flexing, and I knew he was waiting, eagerly. I was just as eager when I took him into my mouth. He was so big, but I pulled him deep into my throat and sucked, hard.

His hips jerked as the most erotic sound of pleasure rumbled up his throat. His reaction fueled me, like a match to kindling. His hips started moving faster, pushing him deeper. He reached to pull me to him and, desperate for one last taste, I ran my tongue over the tip and tasted a saltiness there.

He flipped me over onto my back before he settled between my legs. His hand moved down my stomach until he reached the part of me that was aching for him. He rubbed his finger over the moist heat for a moment before his fingers slipped inside of me.

His mouth moved to my breast, his tongue playing with my nipple before he moved up my body to linger just over my mouth. He shifted his hips and with a powerful thrust, he was fully inside of me. “Oh God, Trace.” He was so big and it felt so good as my body stretched to take him. I lifted my hips and took him deeper. Our eyes never left the other as we moved together and I wrapped my legs around his waist to pull him to me.

I felt the start of the orgasm, like a rope fraying, just as Trace started to move deeper and faster and then I just lost it, the intensity so strong it tore a cry from my lips. Trace continued to move and each thrust prolonged the pleasure. Then he tensed a moment, his face shifted into one of such harsh ecstasy, and his body spasmed with his own release.

He collapsed on top of me. I wasn’t ready for him to move away from me and, by the weight of him, he wasn’t ready to move. I felt his hard breathing on my neck, the pounding of his heart in his chest, and I couldn’t help feeling a bit smug myself because he was as affected by our lovemaking as I was.

“I’ll move in a minute,” he muttered in my hair.

“No rush.”

I felt the curve of his lips against the bare skin of my shoulder before he lifted his head and those eyes looked down into mine. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“Only in a good way.” And then I wiggled my hips and grinned. “Again.”

His smile in reply was breathtaking before he purred, “Minx.”

I turned serious when I touched his face. “There is nothing you could ever do that would make me leave you.”

There was a note of sadness in his voice when he asked, “Nothing?”

“Well, I can’t be one of many. I can’t be with you knowing that you are sharing this with others. I’m not made that way.”

He reached up and touched my cheek. “Being with you—I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else, but are you sure that it’s me you want?”

“Yes.”

I knew that he wanted to believe me, but he wasn’t there yet.

I was prepared to wait him out and then he leaned in and kissed me. And then all I could think about was him.

A week after we made love, I came home from work with more pain than my typical achy feet. The smell of something yummy teased my nose, and I followed it into the kitchen to find Trace standing in front of the stove.

“Smells good.”

He turned at the sound of my voice and a smile spread over his face.

“Hi.” He placed the spoon on the plate before he walked over and pulled me into a hug, but when I winced, he pulled back with a look of concern.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes grew hard. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No, nothing like that. I just, well, I guess it would be easier to show you.”

His eyebrow arched slightly in response, but when I took a step away from him and moved to unsnap my jeans, his expression turned into something else entirely as a playful gleam entered his eyes. He rolled back on his heels before his hands found the pockets of his jeans.

“I’m liking this already.”

I pushed my jeans down a bit as I lifted my blouse to expose a bandage just below my hip bone. It only took him a second for understanding to dawn on him when he looked back up at me.

“What have you done?”

I removed the bandage and watched as his eyes moved to the spot I had just revealed. The tattoo of the Celtic symbol for everlasting love was done in black and gray and just under it was Trace’s name in cursive. I watched him as he stood transfixed, looking at my hip, and then I offered softly, “I knew with absolute certainty that what I wanted, I’d want forever.”

His gaze moved up to mine as tenderness washed over his face and then he had me in his arms.

“God, Ember.” He buried his face in my hair and breathed me in and when he pulled back and looked into my eyes, I felt tears burning my throat. His voice became a harsh vow when he whispered, “I love you.”

My heart swelled hearing those words from him. His lips moved over mine, seeking and tasting as his hands came up to frame my face. I almost whined in protest when his mouth pulled from mine, but then his lips were on my neck, pressing openmouthed kisses down my throat and along my collarbone, and when he moved back up the other side, his mouth lingered near my ear.

“I love your tattoo.”

He stepped back and smiled at me. He loved me. I was delirious, but I could tell he was feeling a little off-balance, so I tried to lighten the mood.

“It’s irritating, but not necessarily painful, like hell.”

His grin grew wicked. “Ah, baby, I’ll kiss it and make it better.”