Chapter 11
11
T wo hours later, nearing ten o’clock, Trace had gone through four of the six beers and laid maple hardwood in half of the café’s event space, upstairs and across the building from the little apartment where he’d spent the night with Avery. He was shirtless and dripping sweat when headlights flashed through the windows.
He paused, rubber mallet in hand, and watched Avery’s Jeep come to a stop out front. He knew his anger was irrational. Knew she hadn’t promised anything more than she’d given, but he still felt like she’d lied to him.
Trace dropped a piece of maple that had once graced the gym floor of the local high school, and followed on his knees. After setting the grooves, he used another piece of wood to hammer the eight-foot length into place.
The front screen door squeaked open, then slammed shut, and the soft tap of Avery’s boots sounded on the hardwood downstairs. Despite his hurt, his anger, his disappointment, Trace’s stomach flipped and tightened.
“Goddammit,” he muttered and stood to grab another piece of maple.
“Oh, wow,” she said. “You got the piano moved already?”
He didn’t answer. The fact that it was sitting by the front door should be answer enough.
“Trace?” she called up the stairs.
He closed his eyes, rested the end of the maple on the floor, and leaned into it. “What?”
“Thank you.”
Why did she have to be so fucking sweet?
When he didn’t answer, she said, “You’re working late.”
“Yep.” He dropped the wood and repeated the placement process.
“I’m just here to pick up sugar. I ran out at Phoebe’s.”
He lifted his hands out to the side. What the hell did he care? “Great.”
Her boots tapped into the kitchen, and Trace breathed a sigh of relief. He’d laid two more boards by the time she yelled up the stairs again.
“I’m gonna head out. Do you need anything?”
Yeah, he needed a lot of things, and she was at the top of the damn list.
But he gave her a clipped, “Nope.”
She hesitated. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Trace saluted the empty room. “Later.”
More boot taps, another slam of the screen door, and Trace picked up another piece of maple. But this time, he threw it at the floor, dropped his head, and planted his hands at his hips. “Fuck.”
He lowered to his knees and put his frustration into the hammer. When the piece was in place, he sat back on his heels and wiped the sweat from his face with a gloved hand.
“Trace?”
Her voice startled him, and he swiveled to find her at the top of the stairs looking just as breathtaking as she had that morning.
“What?” he barked.
She hesitated. “Is your dad okay?”
“What?” he asked confused. “He’s fine. Everything’s fine. Fucking perfect. What do you want?”
Her expression went from open and worried to baffled and hurt. “I wanted to check on you.”
“Gee, thanks, Cream Puff. I’m fine. Go get your baking on.”
He pushed himself to his feet even though he was spent and grabbed another piece of maple. When he turned to drop it on the floor, Avery jerked it out of his hand.
He spun on her, grabbing it back. “What the fuck?”
“Are you drunk?” she asked, angry now.
“No, I’m not drunk. What difference does it make to you?”
“You’re not working drunk. You could hurt yourself.”
He laughed. “You’re not the boss of me, baby. Go make your cookies. Leave the heavy lifting to me.”
He dropped to his knees, which ached despite the heavy-duty kneepads, and bent to place the maple. Avery’s boots stepped right in his way. He gritted his teeth and lifted his gaze slowly, trying to hold his temper, trying to ignore her bare thighs, the sway of her skirt, the outline of her tits, the fall of her rich, dark hair.
“Woman, you have pushed enough of my buttons today. Get off my fucking floor.”
She crossed her arms. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’ve been working fourteen hours straight on about two hours of sleep after fucking you all night, and now you’re standing on my floor, which is keeping me from finally getting some good shut-eye. That’s what the hell’s wrong with me.”
“Bullshit. And I’m going to stay standing on this floor until you tell me why you’re acting like this.”
He sat back, rubbing sweat off his face with his forearm. “I saw Tiffany Mulligan at the market. She told me what you wouldn’t—why you were so bent last night.”
Avery frowned, shook her head, and lifted her hands out to the sides. “What does that have to do with anything ?”
He got to his feet and put less than a foot between them, knowing he had to smell worse than the Niners’ locker room and not giving a shit. “It has to do with you and me last night.”
“No,” she said, adamant. “It doesn’t.”
“If you wanted a revenge fuck or a rebound fuck or whatever the hell you want to call it, you should have just told me that’s what last night was about. You should have been straight up with me.”
Fury broke out across her face, and she shoved him back with both hands, then followed. “How dare you insult me like that. I don’t know what your problem is, but don’t take it out on me.”
“My problem is you”—he shook a gloved finger in her face—“using me to make yourself feel better about your ex getting remarried.”
Her mouth fell open, and anger transitioned into hurt. “ That’s what you think of me? You think I’m so weak I need to fuck another guy to bury hurt? If that were the case, I’d have fucked my way through my entire marriage. But I didn’t. I coped. I dealt. I believed. I hoped. And what did I get? Nothing. Absolutely nothing .”
She paced a couple of steps away, then back. “When I heard he was getting remarried, I realized that unless I changed the way I live my life, I would always be lonely. Unless I went after what I wanted, I’d live without any kind of intimacy the way I have for the last six fucking years.”
Trace’s head was spinning. His heart was beating hard and fast. His emotions were tangled in a knot so high in his chest he thought they’d strangle him.
“I wanted you,” she yelled. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you. That’s why I haven’t gone on a second date with anyone else. Because I want you . I knew sleeping with you was a bad idea. I knew I wasn’t experienced enough for you. I was sure I would disappoint you, and I couldn’t face another failure, so I forced myself to ignore what I wanted. What I needed. Just like I’ve always ignored my own wants and needs. All finding out about David did was push me to make a decision I didn’t have the guts to make before.”
She pushed her hands into her hair and turned in a circle. When she turned back, tears glimmered in her eyes, and all Trace’s emotions tugged tight until he couldn’t breathe—love, hate, desire, anger, frustration, confusion...
“What difference does it make to you anyway?” She threw her arms out to the sides. “You got the fuck you were looking for.”
He dropped his hammer and grabbed her arms. “I got way more than the fuck I was looking for, goddammit.” He hauled her in and kissed her hard. She made a frustrated sound and fisted her hands against his chest. He jerked her back, yelling, “I got the fuck I can’t stop thinking about. I got the fuck I want again and again and again.”
When he kissed her this time, her mouth softened, and Trace pushed her lips open with his tongue, then tasted her with the hunger that had been building all damn day. Avery swayed into him, tilted her head, and licked his tongue with a whimper in her throat.
Fire exploded through Trace, and he growled into her mouth. He released her arms, ripped off his gloves, and stroked his hands down her body, then back up beneath the skirt of her dress. He moaned as his hands slid up her warm thighs, gripped her tight ass, and pulled her hips into his erection, grinding against her.
Avery broke the kiss on a whimpered, “Yes,” wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him as if he were water in the desert. The alcohol in his blood was singing, and he was absolutely sure he’d never wanted any woman more than he wanted Avery right this minute.
He pushed her panties over her hips and groaned at the feel of her hot skin in his hands. “Fuck, need you.”
“Yes,” she breathed, fisting his hair, locking her arms around his neck.
Trace lifted her off her feet. She kicked off her panties and wrapped her legs around his hips. He didn’t remember moving until her back hit the wall, and he sank his hips into hers, moaning at the feel of her soft, soft pussy giving to his hard cock.
Her hands fell from his hair to rip at his jeans. She was panting, lips wet, eyes hazed with the same crazy need bubbling through Trace’s veins. He struggled for a condom in his wallet, ripped it open with his teeth, and pushed it on while Avery swept her skirt aside.
And when he stroked his fingers between her legs, wet heat swallowed them. “Perfect.”
He replaced his hand with his cock, and as he pushed into her, Avery sipped a breath, rocking her hips toward him. With her thighs in his hands, Trace pulled her wide and watched his cock push inside her. And, God, it was beautiful. Her hands gripped his forearms, head dropped back against the wall. He pulled back, and thrust again, and again and again. Until he filled her.
Pressure spread through his cock, his balls, his pelvis. Avery’s fingers bit into his skin. He fought to slow down, to make this wild passion between them last. Wished he could do this for hours in fifty different positions. Sliding inside her, feeling the slick, hot walls of her tight pussy give, open, then close around him with that delicious squeeze was absolute ecstasy.
Her head rolled side to side, mouth open. “Need it, need it.”
He used his body to pin hers against the wall, released one thigh, and slid his hand under her hair to grip the back of her neck. He pressed his forehead to hers. “I want you looking at me when I give you what you need.”
She obeyed, and the raw desire flooding her expression went a long way toward healing whatever wound had ripped open inside him. He hoped he could bring her enough pleasure to do the same for whatever pain he’d caused her.
Holding her gaze, he looked into her eyes as he pulled all the way out and slowly thrust.
“Oh, God .” Her lids fluttered closed, and her back arched as she lifted into him.
“ Fuck , baby, that is so good.”
He thrust again, and her mouth dropped open, and that look crept into her eyes, the one she got just before she came. “You want it?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He quickened his pace but kept the thrusts full and deep and strong, tip to balls, and encouraged her to meet him by using her thighs to pull her into the thrust. Which also helped him control the speed, helped him hold it off until she was writhing and shaking.
“Want it, Avery?” he whispered.
“Yes. Please.”
Goddamn, there was something about hearing her so needy that just rushed through his blood, and he hammered into her, slamming her back against the wall. When she broke, her pussy squeezed his cock so hard, Trace gritted his teeth to keep his own orgasm in check.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck . . .”
He gained a wicked amount of pleasure watching her come apart. Hearing the guttural sounds of pleasure thick in her throat. Feeling her pussy soak his cock.
And when her final shudders quieted, he kissed her, deep and slow, and started the build to a joint climax. She peaked again so quickly, he didn’t have to control himself long. His passion rose to a rabid pitch until he couldn’t kiss her deep enough, couldn’t thrust hard enough, fast enough. Couldn’t get enough of her even when he had absolutely all of her.
“Fuck, Avery...” He buried his face in her neck. “Need you.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, clutched his head, and lifted her hips to meet him thrust for thrust.
She cried out and arched, her hips bucking against his.
Trace matched her need, right on the blissful edge. “So . . . good . . .”
The orgasm clawed its way up his spine, digging deep into his core before it released in an almost violet explosion. Blinding light burst behind his eyelids. His brain went white. Every muscle in his body flexed, squeezed, or bowed. And Avery’s name kept coming from his lips.
When the climax subsided, Trace pressed his weight into her to hold her in place until he got the strength to set her down gently.
Long before that happened, extended moments of silence stretched and lengthened and deepened between them—but not in a good way.
Finally, Avery’s fingers floated down his neck and over his shoulders, followed by a whispered, “I think we have a problem.”
Trace’s heart sank, and an empty ache filled its space. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “Yeah. Guess we do.”