Watching Trace walk across the room is the biggest turn on. He is the hottest guy I have ever seen. Hot enough to be a sexy model. I can imagine his pictures popping up on the Internet whenever anyone Googles “gorgeous.”

He makes his way to the bed, and I smile at him. Nervous, I tug the covers to my chin.

“Do you want to watch TV?” he asks in a low, sexy voice.

I want to scream “take me here and now,” but refrain.

“Uh, sure,” I say, releasing my hold on the covers so he can pull them back to get under. He lies on his back and turns on the television. We watch a show on bizarre bank robberies as we snuggle up next to each other.

Suddenly Trace sits up and turns to face me, raising his hands up to his chest. “I promise I won’t touch you,” he says while lowering his arms. Then he lies back down and adds, “Unless you beg me.”

My heart no longer beats in my chest. I blink a few times and then turn to face him. “What makes you think I would ever beg for that?”

“You’re dying to beg for it,” he says, leaning closer. My mouth waters as I stare into his dark eyes; his pupils and irises blend into a fierce shade of black.

My voice squeaks as I try to speak. “Oh, you think so.”

“I know so,” he whispers.

The covers suffocate me, and I want to throw them off as heat washes over me. I bat my eyelashes at him and run my fingers over his jaw. “I think you’re the one praying for me to beg for it.”

“Sweetheart, don’t start something you can’t finish.” He hovers his lips over mine.

I flip onto my back and stare at the ceiling to regain my composure. He chuckles and props his pillows up against the headboard. As he sits watching the television, I turn my body to look up at him, place my hand under my head, and rest on my elbow. “Thank you, Trace, for letting us stay here.”

“Of course. Any idea on who could be out to hurt you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can I ask you why you moved here?”

I stare into his trusting eyes and take the leap to tell him my story.

“It’s a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“I have all the time in the world.” He points a hand to his chest, silently asking if I want to lie on it.

My head rests on him as he wraps his arms around me.

“Uh, you are touching me,” I joke.

He lowers his lips to my head and kisses the top, then grabs me and repositions us so we are face to face. His lips call me to take them as I stare deep into his eyes.

“Please, beg me to touch you.” He closes his eyes, and my head falls closer to his lips. We are so close, I can almost taste the sweet toothpaste in his mouth. He begs again, “Please, Vanessa.”

I whisper a yes, and his lips are on mine at lightning speed. Our tongues tangle together, both fighting for more. His hands are in my hair, pulling and tugging. Running two hands down his chest, I glide over his muscles. With a finger, I trace the band of his shorts.

He lets out a hiss as I explore. He grabs my hands and stops me before I can venture further.

“Oh fuck.” He breathes, and I smile at him.

“I’m sorry,” I say, apologizing for getting too frisky.

He drops my hands and places his hands on both sides of my face.

“Vanessa, you have to understand, I want you more than anything, but we should take this slow.”

“Wow, I didn’t think you knew those words.”

“I realize, in my past, I may have been somewhat of an ass to girls, but I don’t want to do that with you. I want us to take our time, get to know each other.” He releases his hold on me, and I lie my head back on his chest.

“Okay,” I say, running a finger along his chest. I hear a low growl rumble through him and smile, knowing I’m affecting him this way.

“Back to your story,” he says, running his fingers through my hair.

I take a deep breath before I begin. “Back in high school, I dated a guy named Eric. He was popular, and I was happy he wanted me. When he asked me out, I remember accepting before getting to know him better.” I take another deep breath as I glide a finger against his stomach.

“He was a grade older than me, and after a while I thought I was in love. I overlooked his demanding ways, and then he started slapping me around. One day after school, I was talking to a boy from class, and Eric walked over to us. He was so angry with me.”

Trace’s arms wrap tighter around me. He leans down and kisses the top of my head, which makes me smile.

“Eric told me that if I ever talked to the boy again, he would punish me. I cried the whole way home.”

“What about your parents?” Trace asks, rubbing his hand along my arm.

“Oh, my parents loved him. He was the pastor’s son, and the church was the center of out small town.”

Trace stares into my eyes, and I continue.

“So anyways, I continued dating him, afraid he would hurt me if we broke up. Finally, one day, my little sister noticed a bruise on my leg. She asked how I had gotten it and I lied, but she didn’t believe me.”

“Smart girl,” Trace says.

“My sister told my mother that she thought Eric was hurting me. When my mother asked me about it, I denied it. Then I cried when she demanded to know the truth. I finally broke down and told them everything Eric was doing. The way he grabbed my hair and called me names. How he smacked me around in private. How he was always so angry with me.” Tears escape my eyes, and Trace rubs his hands through my hair.

“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want,” he says.

“No, it’s okay. My mom called my dad. My father came home from work early, and we told him the story. He called Eric’s father, screaming and yelling into the phone. Eric’s father denied his son could possibly do that. My father and I went over to Eric’s house to talk to them. I was sitting in the living room of their nice three-story home, terrified to breathe. The couch was brown and had little swirly designs that I kept circling my fingers around. When Eric entered the room, I froze. He was so angry, I thought he was going to kill me right then and there.”

I shuffle my body to get closer to Trace as he runs his fingers along my spine, which ignites tingles that shoot through me.

I continue on to the worst part of my story. “Then my father told his father he didn’t want us together anymore. He wanted Eric to leave me alone. Eric’s father understood and said, ‘sometimes things just don’t work out.’ I looked to Eric, and his eyes were ablaze with fire. He had pure hatred in his eyes. He nodded his head and smiled the most wicked smile I had ever seen. We left his house, and I was so afraid. I told my dad, but he said everything would be fine. That Eric wouldn’t be that stupid to come after me.”

Taking a deep breath, I stall. Trace smiles, which gives me the confidence to continue. “Well, he was that stupid, because after that, I got notes in my locker that said crude things like ‘whore’ and ‘slut.’ I brought the notes home and showed my father. My father went to the police, and we put a restraining order out against Eric. By then, Eric had already graduated high school, so the police didn’t understand how he was getting onto school property. After that, things started getting worse, and Eric began following me. It was only a few weeks until high school graduation, and Eric found me while I was out with my friends. We were at the local shopping mall, and he cornered me. He yelled and screamed at me, and then he slapped me. However, that wasn’t enough for him. He continued slapping me as my friends screamed. Then, he punched me and beat me up pretty bad before the police arrived. They carted him away and took me to the hospital.”

“Oh my god, Vanessa,” Trace says, sitting up fully in the bed and knocking my head from his chest. He grabs my arms and stares deep into my eyes. “I can’t believe this. Are you okay?”

I smile. “Yes, I’m fine. Anyways, after I graduated school, I took a few years off. He was sentenced to probation and never bothered me again. In that time off school, I wrote more poetry than ever and decided I wanted to get away from the narrow-minded town. Everyone looked at me as a liar and the girl who got the pastor’s son in trouble with the law. I told my parents I wanted to go to school out of state, and they understood. Looking for colleges and different places I wanted to live, I came here and have been here since the start of this school year. So what, like, eight months?”

“So he would send notes that had the word slut written on it? Do you think he could have possibly found you?” Trace asks, lying back down.

“I don’t know. I should call my parents tomorrow and ask if he’s still there.”

“Good idea.”

“I’m sorry to burden you with this,” I say, lying back down on his chest.

“Yeah, you’re a real buzz kill.” He grins.

I prop myself up, raise a hand, and slap him playfully on the chest.

His eyes light up, and he tickles me.

Laughing, I launch my body onto him and squeal in delight. “Please stop, Trace.”

“Never!” he shouts, pinning my arms to the bed. He climbs on top of me and straddles my waist. I stare up into his eyes, defenseless.

His eyes travel across my body, sending pure lust rippling through my system. He licks his lower lip, and his eyes lock with mine.

“Please, Trace.” At this point I don’t even know what I’m asking. Please touch me? Please kiss me? Please don’t ever stop? Sensing my desire, he lingers with his lips over mine.

“Please what?” he asks, licking his lips.

My mind scrambles, and I can’t string words to complete a sentence together if my life depends on it.

“Please do anything to me,” I whisper.

His lips lock with mine, and he sucks my lower lip into his mouth. His tongue explores my mouth like an expedition to the treasured land. He lessens his grip on my wrist and moves his hands along my neck. I run my fingers along his back and spread my legs around his body. He grinds into me, sending heat to my inner thighs.

I slow down a bit and move out from under his hold.

“No, you’re right. We need to slow down. It’s just too damn hard,” he says, looking down to his body then adding, “No pun intended.”

I laugh at his comment and turn to my side as he snuggles up, spooning my body. His hard length nestles against my back as I wiggle closer.

“Goodnight, Trace.” I sigh.

He hisses, “Goodnight.”

I lie in bed, unable to sleep, my mind racing over the past forty-eight hours. Lying here with Trace is not what I had imagined in my craziest wildest dreams.

The next morning, I awaken to find Trace gone. I pad around and get ready for work. As soon as I finish, Trace comes walking in with a mug of coffee.

“Good morning. I made this for you,” he says, handing me the cup.

“Hi, I have to work this morning,” I say, taking the cup from his hand.

“No school today?”

“No, but I know Maxine’s father is installing the new system today on the house.”

“Listen, I want you to be careful. Call me if you need anything.” He looks serious, and I almost crack a smile but then think better of it.

An hour later, I am in Maxine’s car on the way to work. She called her father earlier, and they were already at the house installing the new system. We are both working the lunch shift, and then I have to stay on for the dinner shift. Therefore, I will be at the restaurant all day, stressing about my room and who defiled it.

As Maxine races through the streets, I make a mental list of who could be behind everything.

My first thought is Eric. He frightens me, and when I get scared, my mind automatically thinks of him and his evil ways.

I am lost in my thoughts about Eric when I hear my phone beep. I have a new message. I pull out the phone and find a new text message from Jordan.

Hey, just checking on you. How did everything go last night?

I put my phone back into my purse. I will text him back later, on my break.

We arrive at work early, and I tell Maxine I’m going to call my parents before heading inside.

My mother’s chipper voice answers the phone, “Hello.”

“Hey, Mom,” I say into the phone. I miss her but didn’t realize how much until I hear her voice.

“Vanessa, is that you? How are you, honey?”

She’s most likely sitting in the kitchen, talking on the house phone, busy watching the cooking network and working on a new creation. She loves to cook and definitely knows how to bake some major yumminess in the kitchen. She doesn’t work but keeps herself busy with volunteer work. She dedicates most of her time to the retirement community, playing bingo and organizing the parties. My father works full-time at the water management plant for the city. He is head of the HR department and loves his job. He is a tall man with a balding hairline. I have his eyes, clear as the blue sky. If you look at both my parents, you would definitely think I take after my father.

“I’m okay. Mom, I have a crazy question. Have you seen Eric?”

I can hear my mother suck in a breath at the mention of his name. My parents were not happy with Eric and the things he had done.

“Why, is something wrong?” she asks, fear evident in her voice.

“No, no. I’m just wondering.” I lie to her, since there’s no use worrying my over-nervous mother.

“I haven’t seen him in a while. His father said he left town for a few months.”

My eyes widen when I hear this bit of information. My mother senses my mood and asks again if something is wrong. I reassure her everything is fine and get off the phone. I debate if I have enough time to call my little sister, Marcie. Maybe she knows where Eric is. She is a few years younger than me and a senior in high school. Working near Eric’s father’s church, she sees the family all the time.

I head into work, thinking I will call her later today. Constant worrying is my mother’s passion, and I may have to call her back to make sure she is okay.

Walking into work, I see Maxine talking to Kristine, Meghan, and Georgie by the side stand. A quick smile to them and I head to the front to see which section I’ll serve in today. Once I have clocked in and the manager assigns my running duties, I seek out everyone. They all rush over from their work station, asking if I’m okay.

“I’m fine, guys,” I say, putting on a brave front. Inside, I’m beginning to wig out.

“Maxine told us that someone entered your room?” Kristine asks with concerned eyes.

Maxine tells the story again for a few more employees as they gather around. Ah, a restaurant—gossip central.

Maxine is an animated talker; she can entertain a crowd and all eyes are on her. She has a way of telling a story that makes you not want to miss a minute of it. She commands attention, which is probably why she gets great tips with her customers. I envy the way she can call on a group and rally everyone’s sympathy. When she ends the story, everyone shows their sincere concern with our well-being. Georgie even offers to help with security, should the need arise.

I hug him and thank him for his generosity. The group drifts off when we get our lunch rush.

Running around, fetching drinks for customers and ringing in orders, makes the time fly. At the end of the lunch rush, Maxine gets ready to head home and pulls me aside.

“Hey, my father is still at the house. I’m gonna head there and see if the police have found anything.”

“Just be careful. Are you going to be there alone while I’m at work?”

“Yes, but with the new security system, I’ll be fine,” she says, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

“Okay, I’m just worried.”

“Vanessa, look at me. No need to worry yourself with anything. It’s probably a prank. Whoever it is has to know we called the police by now and is probably freaking out.”

“I’ll call you when I leave here tonight.” I smile at her.

“How are you getting home?”

“Kristine works tonight and said she will give me a ride.”

“Okay, good. I’ll be at home studying.”

Maxine leaves, and I ring in some food for lunch. I sit down and pull out my phone as I wait.

There’s a new text. My heart flutters when I see it’s from Trace.

Hey

The message is short and sweet, yet my lips curve into a huge smile when I read it. I text back a quick reply.

Hey

Within seconds, he answers back.

Can’t stop thinking about you.

I beam at the reply and look around to make sure no one is watching me crushing like a school girl. I answer his reply.

Me, either.

Instantly another message comes through.

When can I see you again? Are we still on for tomorrow night?

Warm fuzzies move throughout my body as I think about seeing him tomorrow. Answering back, I type out my response.

YES

He replies, fast.

My favorite answer. See you tomorrow.

I put my phone away just as my food is delivered. Tomorrow can’t come quick enough. I want to see him all day, every day.