Trace stands at the foot of the bed, staring at me with his charcoal eyes. As they move along my body, my skin catches fire with want. My head throbs, but not so much that I can’t focus on everything he has planned.

Hovering over my body like a weeping willow tree that doesn’t quite touch the ground, he closes his eyes. Goosebumps explode as he blows across my exposed skin. His eyes smolder with intensity as he studies my legs, then moves up to hover over my hips then chest. As my core temperature rises, he glides his face just above my body, and I try to squirm closer to him.

I want it, I need it, and I can almost feel it. But he doesn’t engage my lips. My head falls back against the bed.

“Tsk, tsk, I don’t want to touch you while you’re healing.” His eyes catch mine, and he licks his lips.

“Well, maybe you can touch me a little,” I say as he hangs his head inches above mine.

“Now come on, you need rest.” He lowers his head so we are a milli-fraction of an inch apart. I want his soft lips to press against mine. I can feel a ghost memory of his lips crashing to mine take over my entire mind. I need him. My head fogs over, and Trace senses this.

He lifts himself and looks me square in the eyes. “Are you okay? Are you dizzy?”

“No, I’ll be fine. You don’t have to stop.” I smile.

His eyes roam my body again and my cheeks flush. He lies down, and I resume my position with my head on his chest.

“We have plenty of time for this when you feel better.”

I pretend to pout as I let out a big yawn.

“Are you getting sleepy?” he asks, leaning his head down to look into my eyes.

“Yeah, a little.”

“Go ahead and sleep, sweetheart. I’ll watch over you,” he says, switching off the lamp.

Tylenol and a glass of water are on the nightstand when I awaken the following morning. I stretch my arms over my head.

I smile to myself as Trace enters the room.

“Good morning, sunshine.” As he stands there, mouth agape, his body stiffens.

“Hi. Are you okay?” I ask.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Closing his mouth, he sits beside me on the bed.

“Thank you,” I murmur, blushing.

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better.”

“What did you want to do today?” he asks, snaking an arm around my waist.

I break from his hold and stand, placing my hand on his shoulders where he sits on the bed.

“Study?”

“Oh please, anything but that.” He flops his body onto the bed and covers his eyes with his arms.

I lean over him, ruffling a hand through his silky hair. I love it so much.

“You should study, too. You might fail all your finals.”

“Don’t worry about me. Besides, I have something I can study.” He releases an appreciative sigh as his eyes graze my body.

“And just what is that?” I tug his hair, bringing his face to mine.

“You, my favorite subject.”

I lean my head down and brush my lips against his.

His strong hands dig deeper into my waist, and I lift my knee to rest on the bed beside him. Lifting the other knee, I straddle him as he grips me tighter, and I push him against the bed so he lies flat on his back. We unite in the art of a sensual, slow-moving kiss.

Framing our faces with my soft, blonde curls, I deepen the kiss. He reaches up, locks a finger around my hair and tugs tight. I look into his deep eyes and rock my hips against him. In one quick instant, he twirls me around to where I’m beneath him. His eyes never leave mine, and I know he wants this.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers.

We spend the whole day learning everything we can about each other physically. He knows how to make me crumble at his touch.

My phone rings a while later. It is my little sister, Marcie.

“Hey, do any of your friends know where Eric might be?” I ask.

“Just that he is out of state. We can’t even find out which state,” she says.

“Do you know where?”

“No, sorry. I wish I could be more help, Ness.” Concern is evident in her voice.

“It’s okay, Marcie. Thanks.”

We hang up after chit-chatting about how things are going. Trace has started to investigate Eric’s parents and church on Google. There’s a church website, but no information that helps us.

I can’t think about anything but Eric and all the pain he caused me. My mood depresses, and Trace grabs my arm.

“Are you okay?” he asks, running a finger along my arm. I look into his eyes as he leans in and kisses my forehead.

“I’m just thinking.”

“What have I told you about that?” He smiles next to me on the bed, then wraps his arms around me as we return to looking at the computer.

“What? That it’s bad for my health?”

“Exactly. Let me worry about Eric or whoever is doing this. You just focus on your schoolwork. You don’t need this asshole ruining your grades.”