Shae growled and pushed her cell back into her purse, ready to hail a cab. She didn’t make it that far. A hand wrapped around her wrist, the grip vise like and left little room for movement. Her scream ripped free, piercing the night air as she was pushed into moving from behind. Blood thundered in her ears, her sharp gasps giving way to another cry as she jabbed her elbows back hoping to connect with something. Her attacker tried to hush her, placing a palm across her mouth. The hold wasn’t as fierce as the one at her wrist, though it was no less dominant.
Panicking, Shae tried kicking back. Maybe she would hit her attacker unaware? Writhing and struggling wasn’t helping. Couldn’t the people on the street see what was happening? Why was no one helping her?
Her stomach knotted, all clear thinking lost in the haze of terror. Desperate, Shae bit down on the fleshy palm of the hand covering her mouth.
“What the fuck? Ow!” Her attacker dropped her, relief causing her head to throb. “What the hell, Shae?”
Recognizing the owner of the voice, anger surged her forward. She shoved at his chest, only then meeting his blue eyes. Blinking, she looked again. “What the fuck was that all about, Trace? You need to stop grabbing me.”
He held up his palm, the skin red and swollen where she’d bitten him. “You’re hungry, I guess.”
“Are you serious? Are you really fucking serious?” she spat, now realizing why no one had helped her. Trace had moved them into the alley at the side of the bar.
“Wow, you kiss little kids with that mouth?”
“Cute.” She shoved at his chest. “You complete moron. I thought you were going to hurt me.” She gave him another push, this time hard enough for him to stumble back. He lost his balance, his boots tangling, and the wall saved him from falling. He glared at her. “Are you crazy?” she asked, her top lip curling as her heart continued to ricochet off her chest. “Are you annoyed that I almost hurt you? Because you should be. Then you’d know how I fucking feel!”
The glow from the streetlight gave her a good view of his face. She watched his expression change from anger to regret before Trace hung his head.
“And yet you still haven’t answered me.” Shae took a calming breath. “What the hell did you think you were doing? You scared the shit out of me.”
Looking up, he eyed her through a fringe of dark hair. “I was trying to stop you from leaving. I wanted to . . . hell, I suppose I wanted to apologize for being so crazy.”
“So you pull me into the alley? Wow! That is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”
Trace snickered. “Yeah, you’re right. I didn’t think any of it through. I’m a dick.”
Shae took a step closer to him and poked him in the chest. “Yes, you are.” Allowing herself to relax a little, she blew out another breath. “You could have just shouted my name.”
“I did.” He raised his arm, hooking a finger into the waistband of her skirt. Looking down, she frowned. The back of his fingers grazed her stomach. A small shudder raced down her spine. “You didn’t stop. You wanted to get away from me, I guess.”
“And you thought the best way to stop me was to attack me?”
His finger, still hooked in the band of her skirt, skimmed across her stomach. Goose bumps broke out over her skin, a slow appreciation coiling low in her abdomen. She’d be a fool to deny the attraction to him, but the man made her head spin. Her sanity couldn’t afford a man like Trace Jacks.
He tugged, pulling her to him so that her front meshed with his. Shae inhaled sharply, her palms flattening against his chest as his hands shifted to grip her hips. The right side of his lips lifted. “It wasn’t my intention, but then I don’t know what the fuck my intentions are around you. I wanted you to stop walking.”
Shae raised a brow, still waiting for a better explanation. His heart hammered against her palm, pounding as fast as her own. For some reason it encouraged her. “I’m still pissed at you, but you’ve stopped me. What do you want, Trace?”
He lowered his forehead to hers. “I don’t know. You . . . you amuse me, and you have no idea how much I desperately need to be amused right now.”
“So tell me.”
His hands flexed on her hips before gripping them a bit too tight. She winced, his hold relaxing almost right away. “I’m not up for sharing right now.” He licked his lips and lifted his head from hers.
“You don’t want to share, and yet you’re still building up to kissing me. That’s sharing.”
A twinkle illuminated his gaze. “Do you want to be kissed, Shae?”
She needed to slow this train down. One minute she was being attacked, the next she was in his arms, her breasts pressed to his chest. “I’m not going to lie to you. I feel something when you’re around.”
“Is it this?” he said, thrusting his hips against her and making his arousal very clear.
She couldn’t help it, she giggled. “Does that approach get you many dates?”
“This would be a first.”
“Then you’ve failed, so it isn’t.” She shifted back, wanting to put some space between them. Trace kept his hands on her hips and tugged her back. “Your sister is going to be real annoyed at the stunt you pulled tonight.”
He quirked his brow. “How do you know?”
“She made you apologize to me after the dance class, and that was just you and your smart mouth.”
“So you like my mouth?”
Slapping his chest, Shae turned her head so that she could hide her smile. She was supposed to still be pissed at him, and yet that had long since dissipated, leaving behind the familiar bloom of attraction. His hips nudged her again as he adjusted his stance, his erection evident as it pressed against her hip. She stared at the print on his T-shirt and muttered, “Yes.”
“Then I won’t waste that attraction.” He crushed his mouth against hers, taking the breath from her lungs. She’d expected it but not at that moment. And she hadn’t anticipated the hunger she experienced once he began to kiss her. The strength of it intensified within her as his lips moved over hers, her skin heating under his touch. She felt his hand thread through her hair to cup the back of her head. It allowed him to tilt it to the side, deepening the kiss and sliding his tongue along her lower lip.
A groan slipped between them, Trace’s chuckle confirming the sound had come from her. His hand tightened on her hip, his fingers flexing in her hair, and his lips continued to devour.
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think straight either, and when his tongue slid against hers, her knees buckled. The man was killing her composure, along with a few brain cells, the longer he kissed her. Now she understood why she’d been fighting the attraction. The man was toxic, and she had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before she lost herself in him. Shae couldn’t let that happen. She had too much going on in her life already.
Shae tore herself away, leaving them clinging to one another and gasping for breath. She lifted her hand and covered her lips, pressing down to stop the tingle that vibrated across them. Trace watched her, searching for something, and whatever it was, he found it because he smiled. That grin caused her to forget whatever the hell she was going to say. She slapped his chest again.
“Hey!” he protested. “You keep slapping me.”
“And you keep pissing me off.”
Trace winked. “Keeping things interesting. Now kiss me again.”
Shae gulped, the thought of another hot kiss heating every inch of her flesh. “No. And you kissed me.”
His eyes sparkled with amusement seconds before he twisted them around so that she was now the one pressed against the brick wall. “So by my calculation, it’s your turn.”
“Your math sucks.”
“I’m not talking to you anymore.” That was the only warning she received before he brought his mouth back to hers. Shae melted against him, still questioning why she was going along with his seduction. When his fingers inched up her ribcage, she didn’t stop him. Instead, she hummed to show Trace
she was okay with it. He moved them higher, stroking his fingers along the underside of her bra. Shae gasped, her head falling back. It allowed Trace to kiss a path along her throat, his tongue darting out to lap at the skin after he grazed the flesh with his teeth. His fingers pushed underneath her bra cup, offering the lightest touch to her breast. Her nipples hardened.
“You taste fucking amazing,” he said against her shoulder before nipping a path to her neck.
She combed her fingers through his hair, holding his head in place while her hips bucked against his thigh. “Are you smiling now?” she asked, her voice a breathy whisper.
“Oh, yes.” He hitched her skirt up and cupped her ass. “You do that. And it’s just what I need, babe.”
Shae ignored the endearment, too fixated on lust surging within her. The lace of her panties was soaked, the heat of his erection burning through his jeans and making his intentions clear. When his finger traced a line down her ass, she was thankful she had the wall behind her as support. His fingers were close, so close to her hot center, and mentally she began to beg. She wanted him touching her. Their breaths mingled in the cool air, reminding Shae where they were.
The side door to the bar opened, flooding the alley in light and making them both freeze. The moment of lucidity had her raising her head and looking into his heated gaze. “I think we should stop.”
Trace blinked as if startled by her response. “Why the hell would we do that? You do it for me—really do it for me.” He ground his erection against her, punctuating his point.
The door closed, leaving them, once again, in minimal light.
“This isn’t going to happen, Trace. It’s too soon,” she said but didn’t stop him stroking her ass. His breath tickled her cheek, his thigh pushing between her own.
“It is happening, Shae. Admit it, and then we can move on. The next base is where things get real interesting.”
She couldn’t help herself, so she laughed. “I know where next base gets me. I have done this before.”
His teeth grazed her shoulder, his fingers inching closer to feeling the next base and how wet she was. “Really? Because you seem confused about what’s happening. I’m pretty sure we’re going to fuck tonight. But you are fixated on giving me mixed signals.”
Shae gulped and hoped her words came out. “And you don’t give those?”
Trace shook his head, lowering his hand to caress her thigh. “No. I’ve told you why I’m interested in you. Told you why I messed with your head that first day.”
Shae blew out an exasperated breath. “Yeah, some shit about me making you smile. Well, I’m pretty sure there’s a club full of women who would be happy to help you do that. I’m not the kind of girl you can fuck in an alley and then fuck off. Maybe you can find one of those?”
He shook his head again. “Don’t want anyone else, babe. I looked at you.”
“Lucky me.”
“You betcha,” he replied, ignoring her sarcasm. “We have a thing going on. You like the volley that’s happening here. I think it makes you wet, because it damn well makes me hard.”
Shae pushed at his chest and righted her clothing when he gave her some space. No way was she about to admit that he’d hit dead center with that particular point. However, one look at her nipples would prove her to be a liar. “Saying dirty little words isn’t a way to win a girl’s heart. Didn’t your sister tell you that?”
“I don’t want your heart. That’s off the cards before we even start. And trust me, my sister has her kinks.”
Shae scrunched up her nose when he handed her purse to her. “I do not want to know about the stuff your sister is into. I teach her daughter and looking at her would be awkward.”
Trace laughed and reached over to smooth his hand along her jaw. He tilted her head up, placing a gentle peck on her lips. “I hear you, and I’m not about to force myself on you. I’ll be here tomorrow night, Shae. I know you’ll come to see me, because you and I are going to have fun. A lot of it. Laughter is what I want, babe.” He started to walk back down the alley. “No hearts and flowers. Just fun and laughter. You do that.” He disappeared around the corner, leaving her alone with her aching nipples and wet panties. Damn him!
“See you tomorrow, Shae,” came a shout from the street, and she laughed, knowing he wasn’t wrong.
Trace Jacks both confused and interested her. She felt the pull of lust toward him, but his seduction seemed at odds with the way he could be with her. He felt closed-off at times, impenetrable, but then she didn’t have time for anything more so if a bit of fun was what he wanted, she might give in to the temptation of it. And him.
Chapter 8
Trace checked his watch for the fourth time in ten minutes. He’d been certain Shae would turn up, but it appeared he was very wrong. He hated himself for feeling the disappointment. She was meant to be a distraction—a bit of fun to take his mind off the crap that had surged through his life recently. However, the fact that her absence distracted him made him all the more pissed off.
Today had been a disaster. His quick stop for groceries had turned into some creepy stalk-fest. His skin had tightened, his heart hammering, when a baby had started to cry. Right away he knew it was Tate, and he’d gone in search of her. The aisles had been busy, so he’d managed to hide himself from direct view. That didn’t take away the fact that he was spying on Emmie and Tatum.
Tate had been fussing in her stroller, her arms flailing, and it appeared Emmie couldn’t soothe her. Trace fought the urge to go help, certain that all the baby needed was her little blanket with the tag touching her cheek. His feet were glued to the floor, and his head warred that Emmie should learn those things for herself. His heart told him otherwise.
And his heart was what propelled him forward.
He thundered down the aisle, and Emmie gasped when she met his stare. He didn’t greet her, only picked the blankie up from underneath the stroller and settled it against Tate’s cheek.
“You should know what she needs,” he growled. “Tag on her skin.”
“Trace, I—”
“Save it,” he responded before he ground his teeth and walked from the store, leaving his basket of groceries on the floor.
After that he’d needed a drink . . . and some food. The lack of both in his apartment had him walking into a local bar, and he’d been in the same spot for the last two hours.
He knocked back another beer, slamming the bottle onto the bar.
“ ’Sup?” Drum asked, the sound little more than a grunt as he attempted to carry an amp across the room. He gave up, placing it as gingerly as he could on the bar. He winced as he looked at his hands before staring back at Trace while he waited for an answer.
Drum was an intimidating man to look at, with tattoos and piercings adorning a huge body. He towered over most men, causing many to shrink in his presence. Trace knew him to be a complete contrast—the man was a teddy bear. The metal and ink was a disguise. One that kept most of the world out of his friend’s business.
“Nothing, man. Nothing I won’t get out of my fucking head. Ignore me,” Trace replied as he started to peel the label off the beer bottle.
Drum raised a pierced eyebrow. “Frustrated?”
Chuckling, Trace shook his head. “Are we back in high school? Peeling labels off bottles means I need a fuck?”
“Does in my world. Am I wrong?”
“I don’t think getting balls deep is going to do it this time, buddy.”
Drum nodded and gestured to the woman behind the bar. He asked for two beers before looking back at Trace. “I knew there was something behind your return to the band. And the return of your bike. You haven’t mentioned Emmie. Gotta assume this mood is thanks to her.”
Trace’s throat constricted, and when he did speak his words came out choked. “Not ready, Drum.”
“Gotcha. Listen, I know we don’t do the whole girlie sharing shit but, dude, I’m here for you, right? I’ve got your back, so have the rest of t
he band.”
Trace swallowed. “Yeah, thanks. The band is what I need right now.”
“Then you have it. The guys are beyond stoked that you’re back, and you saw the crowd we pulled last night. That’s a pretty good number considering it was our first one back.”
The door to the bar opened, the cold air filtering into the room. Trace paused their conversation, hope blossoming in his chest as he looked over to see who had entered. The hope dispersed when he saw it wasn’t Shae. He’d been wrong about her—she wasn’t coming tonight, and tomorrow he’d be working at Metro. He’d miss her if she did stop by. Of course, there was time yet for her to arrive. However, he could hear the people starting to wait outside and pretty soon the band would have to clear all their things out of the bar. They were only allowed to use it for practice a few hours a day.
“You okay?” Drum’s gaze shot from Trace to the door, recognition dawning. “Oh! Waiting on that one from last night?”
“Leave it.”
“Seems like that’s all you’re telling me to do today.”
“Then do it.” Trace placed his feet on the floor, pushing the stool back with his ass. “My head’s fucking screwed. I don’t want to talk about any of it because I don’t have a fucking clue what to say. The woman from last night is . . . well, the woman from last night. Sometimes hiding behind something, or someone, is the one way of moving forward. I’ve gotta figure this out for myself. Leave it, and I’ll be fine.”
Drum rubbed his hand along his decorated forearm. “Then consider it dropped until you tell me otherwise.”
“Thanks.” He reached for the beer bottle, draining it before slamming it back down onto the bar. “I’m out of here. Need some air, and this place is starting to stifle me.”
“The set was good. It’s like you’d never been away.” Drum shifted to standing and picked the amp back up. “I’ll probably see you at Metro tomorrow. I hear Kyran is fighting, and I always bet on your brother-in-law.”