The Broken Road
Chapter Twenty-Seven
From her spot in the corner of the backseat, Trixie watched Las Vegas go by, her forehead pressed up against the glass and her heart thumping in time with the whir of the wheels. Trepidation. It held a stranglehold over her. She held herself as far away from Jim as she could politely make it without it seeming like she was trying to put distance between them, which was, ironically enough, exactly what she wanted to do. She hadn't uttered a word to him other than a small muted 'thank you' after he'd done the gentlemanly thing and opened the door for her, ten agonizing minutes earlier. She attempted to focus all her attention on the passing scenery but wasn't very successful. All she was aware of, could be aware of, was the handsome man sharing the same seat with her. The man who'd just participated in a wedding ceremony with her. The man who wore an identical ring to the one that encircled her left ring finger. She blew out a breath, slow and steady, and tried to find something to be grateful for. There had to be something. The only thing she could settle on was the fact that they were alone. Not a single Young was in sight. Their hosts had chosen to stay behind at the restaurant to visit with the owner and his wife, leaving the newly married couple on their own. As Ginny had put it before their departure with a large, lavish wink, it was time for them to start their wedding night. Trixie squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed an inward groan of apprehension.
From the other side of the backseat, Jim eyed his prey and waited with the sainted patience of an eagle. He understood her need for solitude. Even more importantly, he understood that now was not the time to push into it. He'd have to wait until they were alone...really alone. He gave a shrug of a shoulder and turned to look out his window. Conversation was overrated, anyhow. This was a case where actions were going to speak much louder than words possibly could. It wouldn't be too much longer before they reached their hotel. Then it was just a short elevator ride to their suite. With narrowed eyes, he silently vowed not to be so understanding once they were alone in their suite, or so quiet. He turned around the new article of jewelry he wore on his finger, over and over again, a small smile lightly playing across his lips. Hell, he was looking forward to it.
After five more minutes of tense silence, the taxi driver pulled up to their hotel. Moving with a quickness that was generally attributed to her, Jim tossed a few bills into the front seat, opened his door and was out on the sidewalk, waiting for her, practically before the taxi driver had a chance to bark out his fare. He waited for her to join him, emerald eyes dark with impatience. In direct contrast, Trixie moved much slower. Warily, she put one foot on the blacktop, then the other before slowly unfolding herself from the backseat, making sure to take her time. She was in no hurry to get upstairs. One long intake of air was supposed to be fortifying but it didn't do anything more than to provide her with the required amount of oxygen her body needed. A slight frown creased her forehead. She crossed over to Jim, hesitant and unsure of herself, as the events of the evening started to fall upon her with the unwieldy weight of a thousand bricks. Pressing her hands against her thighs, she didn't notice Jim pull out his cell phone or send a quick text but she did hear his softly whispered order.
"For God's sake, Trixie! Smile!" he hissed out after getting his first good look at her face. She was pale and looked more like she'd recently attended a funeral, not a wedding. He pasted one on himself. After grabbing her elbow, he started leading her into the hotel. "You of all people have got to know we're most likely being watched by someone in Mr. Young's entourage. It's important that we at least act like a happily newly married couple, whether we're really one or not."
Her fingers tightened around her purse, holding the item in a death grip. She tried not to grimace. He was right. Professionally, it rubbed her raw that he was the one who realized the need to continue their charade. Personally…it was a different matter altogether. "All right," she agreed quietly. It took quite an effort, nearly a Herculean one, but she managed to pull it off. Her answering smile rivaled the multitude of sparkling lights brightening up the water fountain. Only someone who truly knew her would have recognized that it was full of artifice.
He eyed her intently. He saw the truth. But it would suit. After nodding his approval, Jim kept a strong grip on her elbow. He realized that she needed something to help keep her grounded, a job he was more than willing to take on. Carefully, he steered her into the hotel. It amazed him how easily she let him lead, proving to him more than words could say that she was in a very unusual state. Shock, astonishment, disbelief. Any and all could describe her right now…and him, if he was being completely truthful. Once they were safely inside, he made an immediate beeline for the elevators. While he appeared calm and in control on the outside, inside he was a mass of conflicting and overpowering emotions, exactly like her. Blindly he reached out, pushed the up button, and waited expectantly for the elevator to land on their floor. Each minute felt like an eon. And the whole time he kept his hand firmly on her.
Through veiled lashes, Trixie looked downward. She saw long fingers wrapped around her bare elbow. Long, strong fingers. Those fingers kept her body close to his, so close that only a thin amount of air separated them. A toe began to tap nervously while her fingers began to drum against the side of her thigh. She hated to admit it. It galled her to but this was the very first time on a mission where she felt completely and totally out of control. There wasn't a bad guy in sight or the possibility of some unwanted hostile activity ahead. Oh, no. There was only the promise of extreme solitude between the two of them looming ahead, where he more than deserved a few answers for the unexpected escapade of the night. And she…she'd have to apologize and explain and also keep the depths of her emotions hidden from him. Bravely, she kept the smile from fleeing her face. The conversation looming ahead scared the hell out of her.
While waiting, Jim watched her. He noticed every single thing. She was fidgety; couldn't stay still. Her face didn't have an ounce of color to it. Plus, her eyes weren't as brilliant as normal. While a smile graced her face, it was tiny, forced, and completely devoid of her usual warmth. Barely resisting the urge to scuff the floor with his shoe, he had an exceptionally strong idea why she was acting so out of sorts. The answer gleamed off her left ring finger.
Being careful not to look fully at Jim or the trio of laughing couples exiting the elevator, she entered and immediately pivoted around on her thin heels. She stared straight ahead; didn't acknowledge Jim's presence, and waited for the doors to close. For once, she didn't complete the scan of the elevator. Nope. She wasn't planning on saying or doing anything. She was more focused on enjoying her last few moments before they would return to their suite.
Jim had to step in front of her to push the button for their floor. Testing her, he intentionally brushed against her side. It gave him a dark thrill of delight when she jumped at the unexpected contact. For the first time since the unexpected ceremony, his smile truly warmed his eyes. Impatiently he watched the little red digital numbers count upwards. While she didn't want the privacy the suite promised them, he couldn't wait for it. He wanted it.
She fought the urge to touch where he'd brushed up against her. She could still feel the tingles that remained behind. Trying to ignore them, and him, proved to be a nearly impossible feat. Trixie stared at the closed elevator doors, her hands now bunching up the expensive material of her dress, and watched with an overwhelming feeling of dread as the numbers cheerfully changed, bringing them closer and closer to their floor. To their suite. In a few short minutes, whether she wanted it to happen or not, they were going to have their first dose of real privacy. They were going to be in their hotel suite, away from prying eyes, vigilant observers, and any possible recording devices. There were only a few people, namely Max or Dan, who would be available to cut into the privacy. Although it was cowardly of her, for once she sincerely hoped they did. They'd serve as quite a nice buffer, one she most anxiously needed.
When the elevator let out its cheerful ding to let them know they'd reached their destination, Jim was once again the first one off. "Almost there," he remarked needlessly, just to say something to break the silence. Without waiting for her response, he re-cupped her elbow and led her down the hallway.
She nodded dumbly. Somewhere along the way she remembered to pull her cell out so she could be ready to scan the room although she seriously doubted if anything untoward had happened in their room; not with Dan and Max standing guard during their absence. Better safe than sorry, she thought with a bubble of hysteria beginning to build up again.
When they reached their door, Jim paused. In a moment they were going to be inside. Alone. His fingers flexed against the soft skin of Trixie's elbow before he reluctantly let her go. After pulling out the key card, he swiftly swiped it with an experienced flick of his wrist, and pushed open the door. He intentionally didn't flick on the overhead lights. She slipped past him, quiet as a whisper, wary as a cat, and immediately moved to the other end of the living room. Grinning to himself, he palmed a little sign and hung it on the outside of the doorknob for anyone in the hallway to see. He closed the door. The sound wasn't loud; was only a small, normal, every-day sort of a click. But it carried with it an unusual sense of finality, one that he recognized. They were finally alone.
Trixie spent an inordinate amount of time scanning the room. Exactly as she'd expected, they were safe. Ignoring the fact that they were unarguably alone, she strolled through the living room and flicked on a brass lamp. A muted light cut through the shadows. "Well," she began, her words practically tripping over themselves in their hurry to find their way out of her mouth, "I'm glad to say that the suite is once again safe and secure. Max and Dan took care of it well. No problems to report. Not that I expected anything less, of course. You know our room hasn't been searched since the very first time we left it. That's a good thing. Mr. Young never deemed it necessary to have another search conducted here."
Jim watched the words tumble out, finding it unbelievably comforting to realize that she was downright tense. It was endearing, in an odd sort of a way. Plus he comprehended the reasons for it. It wasn't often that someone's pretend fiancé ended up becoming someone's pretend husband. He leaned up against the wall and offered an inarticulate sound of encouragement, just to see what she would do or say next, all the while plotting what he'd like to do…and soon. Very, very soon.
Trixie paused to take a much-needed breath. Not wanting to give Jim a chance to start questioning, complaining, or maligning the hands of fate that had brought them to such an unusual crossroads, hoping that if she kept up a steady stream of conversation he'd simply forget to bring up their new status, she continued, her voice gaining in both speed and volume, "After today, I believe Mr. Young trusts us once again. Or maybe trust isn't the most accurate word to use. I don't know. Anyway, if Mart were here, he'd be able to help me out and give me the best word possible. You know my brother. He's still our resident walking dictionary. He hasn't met a word yet that he doesn't like!" She ended on a strangled sort of a giggle, wondering how on earth she'd managed to bring up Mart's name into the disastrous debacle that was her Las Vegas mission.
"That's Mart Belden for you." Jim watched her closely, an amused glint to his eyes, and wondered how much rope she was going to need before she hung herself. Figuratively speaking, of course.
"Gleeps! It certainly is." Trixie offered up a high-pitched laugh. It sounded unnatural to her own ears and made her flinch. In serious need of a distraction, hoping to do anything that would make him forget that they were…or, more accurately, that their characters were married, she stared at the closed connecting door and wondered where the hell the other men who always interrupted them were. Max? Dan? Hell, she'd welcome Shane right now, anything to not have to face the man she'd kinda…sorta…well, not legally but just actually…wed. Oh God. Her head was starting to hurt from the strain of it all. She put a hand to her right temple in hopes of soothing away the ache. A single name burst out, so much so that she almost yelled it. "Dan. Where is he? I'm surprised he's not here, waiting for us."
And he wouldn't be, not if he valued his life. The memory of the text message he'd sent to their good friend fresh in his mind, Jim offered a casual shrug in lieu of an answer, unwilling to offer up what he'd done. Somehow, he didn't think she'd appreciate hearing that he'd promised either immediate death or permanent dismemberment to anyone who dared to encroach upon their territory or that it was Dan's duty to pass the message along to any of the other inhabitants right next door to them. Definitely not a good idea to share that particular gem with her…at least, not yet. He was one hundred percent certain that no one was going to be bothering them tonight…and one hundred percent certain that she wouldn't appreciate his efforts. Right now.
Spinning around, Trixie walked over to the other side of the room. She began playing with a loose tendril of hair, nervously twisting it around and around her finger. "Do you think Dan left the suite?" she asked in an overly bright tone of voice. It was a truly stupid thing to say, only proved how restless and nervous she was.
"No." Again, Jim didn't offer anything else, merely watched the woman who was displaying the most interesting case of apprehension he'd ever had the pleasure of witnessing. It was fascinating, from the light blush highlighting her cheeks to the blue eyes that focused on everywhere else but at him to the fingers that couldn't be still. Yeah, she was most definitely agitated. It made the ends of his lips curl up, in a purely male sort of a way. He crossed his arms over his chest, made himself comfortable against the wall, and prepared to watch what she'd do next. The ball was firmly in her court. Would she bobble it?
No? All he could say was no? Nothing else? She was left fumbling for something else to say. The silence settled around them but it was nowhere near as comfortable as an old, soft, worn blanket. Oh, no. Trixie's heart seemed to be picking up in rhythm, beating so fast she was surprised he couldn't hear it. She drew in a soft series of breaths to hopefully settle herself. But it didn't work. "Ah, well, you're right, "she stammered out, trying to search for a response that didn't make her sound like a total idiot. "Dan wouldn't leave. He knows he's not allowed to. I guess he's probably with Max, then."
Hell, she was adorable when she was rattled. Jim didn't move from his spot, merely crossed one ankle over the other, and made a low hum, one she could take as agreement or not. He looked at the closed connecting door, secure in the knowledge that no one was going to be bothering them tonight.
Trixie actually felt the blush heat up. Angling her head so he couldn't see her face, she tapped a finger against her thigh and inquired, thinking maybe if she talked shop it would help even matters out or make her feel less like the village idiot, "Did you hear that Mr. Young is going to finalize our deal tomorrow?"
Jim lifted an eyebrow. Deciding he liked not responding; or, more accurately, he liked how nervous she became around him when he chose not to respond, he merely uttered another unintelligible sound. Just to see how she would react. He wasn't disappointed.
This time Trixie actually wrung her hands and growled. As far as she was concerned, enough was enough. "Damn it, Jim!" exploded out of her. "There's supposed to be a give and take in a conversation, no matter how asinine it is. You realize you could actually partake in it, don't you?"
"Maybe I'm not partaking yet because you haven't brought up the right topic." He watched her, more intently than she realized.
And she flamed. A bright, vivid, vibrant red. Her eyes dropped to the carpet. There was no way she was going to look at him…not right now, not right after... "I know what you're talking about," she mumbled lowly, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "I've been trying to avoid it."
"You've been doing an excellent job. Possibly the best tap-dancing routine I've ever heard." Jim pushed himself away from the wall and began walking towards her. Stalking may have been a more apt term. His steps carried a definitive purpose to them, one she didn't realize yet, while the green of his eyes slowly darkened with purpose.
"I'm sorry. I'm really, really, really, really sorry." She couldn't lift her gaze from the floor. Unconsciously she started to memorize the intricate pattern in the expensive carpeting. Anything to not look up at him. Anything to not see the questions on his face or the disappointment or the…regret she expected to find there. Her lips pulled back in an ugly grimace.
Deciding neutral was the only way to go, he offered soothingly, surprising her, "Let it go, Trix. It's not your fault."
"No. Only my job's." Unbelievably weary, she let out a long sigh and dropped her cell and her purse on a nearby table. The contents spilled out. She didn't notice. She started to run her hand over her hair but stopped when she realized her hair was pulled up. Since that avenue was closed, she ended up fingering a lampshade. Without glancing in his direction, she muttered, "It's not real though, you know. We've got at least that much going for us right now. Neither of us has to worry about any legal ramifications from the after-effects of tonight. We are not the ones who got married tonight. It was Beatrix Johnson and James Hart, not us. That's how it'll go down, legally."
It certainly had felt real. Ignoring the tiny taunting voice, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and answered calmly, "I know. I understand the law. I'm a lawyer, remember?"
"Yeah." This time she kicked the leg of the table. It wasn't hard enough to hurt. It definitely wasn't hard enough to make her feel better. "You're being awfully understanding about all this, Jim. I expected you to be mad or something. I know it wasn't exactly what you'd volunteered to do when you were recruited to help me out." Trixie blew out a frustrated breath. Finally daring to crack open an eye, she was met with the sight of his polished black shoes about three feet from her. Since it seemed safer all around to talk to his shoes instead of his face, she added, "None of this was. It's been an insane couple of days here. Nothing has happened the way it was supposed to be. Nothing. You've been…I mean, what I'm trying to say…Gleeps! You've been truly amazing through it all. For that, I'm so grateful."
"Don't worry about it." He angled his head to the side in a vain attempt to get a good look at her face.
His calm response surprised her further. Trixie bravely lifted her chin; ended up staring at his knees this time. "This mission has been a mess since the very beginning," she admitted softly. "I owe you so much, you know, for everything you've done. We never would have gotten this far without you. Thank you," she ended on a hoarse whisper.
Since it was obvious she wasn't going to look at him without the aid of some serious prodding, he reached out and tipped her chin up. In a show of her stubborn spirit, she didn't meet his eyes. Her refusal to look directly at him only made him appreciate her even more. Stubbornness. It was quite a defining character trait of hers. He brushed his free hand over the top of her head before saying huskily, "No thanks are needed, Trix. It's been my pleasure. Believe me."
The air seemed to stop around them. For the first time since Ginny Young had revealed her grand plan for the evening, she looked up and truly gazed into his face. Her beautiful eyes, the ones that had haunted him from the very first moment he'd looked into them in a ramshackle old mansion, slowly grew and intensified with the most glorious amount of wonder in them. "Jim," she breathed out. Her heart was once again pounding but it wasn't because she was worried about his reaction to their 'marriage'. No; her heart starting racing for an entirely different reason.
Jim slipped out of his black jacket and let it carelessly fall in an untidy heap to the floor. Next was the thin scrap of fabric that had been his tie. One quick tug and it was no more. Without breaking eye contact, he took one large step towards her. It effectively closed any remaining distance between them.
She found herself backed up against the wall. While there were many misunderstandings, mistakes and just plain misconceptions residing between them from their painful past, there was no way she could mistake what he was telling her now. No words were needed. Nothing was needed but the expression on his face. Her brain quickly went into shut-down mood. An impossible achievement, since he hadn't even touched her yet. And she very badly wanted him to. So very badly. She had enough sense left to mumble, "Jim…wait…what…about…"
"No need to worry," he cut her off, a large freckled hand settling at her trim waist. He took a second to appreciate the sight of his hand against the ivory of her dress before he hauled her against him. Tightly. Damn, they were a great fit. The best. How the hell had he ever allowed himself to forget it? He bent down, inch by inch. "Remember that text I sent when we were outside?"
"No," she replied truthfully. She had absolutely no recollection of it. And she didn't care, not when she was having trouble keeping her mind on the conversation. He wasn't helping matters either. He'd started running his other hand lightly up and down her side, eliciting tantalizing tingle after tantalizing tingle. She couldn't prevent a small moan of need from escaping her lips and unconsciously tipped her head back.
A grin that could only be termed cocky wreathed his face. Leaning down, he nuzzled her exposed neck before whispering throatily, "I'll fill you in. I'll give you the abbreviated version. I sent it to our fellow wandering Bob-White. I made it perfectly clear that we were not to be disturbed tonight. By anyone," he added meaningfully.
"Oh!" She stretched the word out, making it much longer than the simple sound should have been. Slowly, the depth of his meaning sank in. He'd made sure they weren't to be disturbed. He'd taken the time to make sure they weren't disturbed. He'd done it…while they were outside. Which meant…Astonished, she shared, her voice twinged with the most amazing sound of awe, "I understand."
"Do you?" he questioned quietly, pressing a line of soft kisses against her collar bone.
She nodded. "I was so worried you were going to be mad or shocked or disappointed or downright furious or…" She shot him a look from underneath her lashes when he lifted his head. Nervously, she giggled, "You get the picture, right?"
"I can take care of all those points. Right now. Let me start by assuring you that I am not mad." He changed directions, brushed his lips against the side of her mouth. Gliding across, he gave another kiss on the opposite side, making her toes curl. "Or shocked." Then he trailed kisses down to the sensitive hollow of her neck. "Or disappointed." When he came back up, he breathed hotly in her ear, "Or downright furious."
A low moan was his reward. With her breath coming in ragged shallows, she answered hoarsely, "I'm so glad." Her heels gave her an added height she couldn't help but be grateful for. Standing on tiptoes, hardly daring to believe what was happening between them was really happening; she pushed her lithe body up against his.
"Tell me about it," he whispered and drew back to take a moment to appreciate the lovely lady in his arms. Seriously, he shared, "We've got the whole night to ourselves, Trix. No one's going to bother us. You've got my promise."
"What…what do you have in mind?" she inquired, striving for a playful tone while her heart was hammering out the liveliest of tunes.
He started gently tugging. It didn't take too long before the mass of golden curls were once again framing her face and the pins holding it up were no more. Pleased with his work, he suggested, straight-faced, "Poker, maybe?"
"I hear you're pretty good at it," she joked back with a charming laugh. Tentatively, she laid her hand on his chest and was surprised to note that his heart was beating just as fast as hers.
"You're wrong. I suck at it," he admitted without a qualm while he threaded his fingers through her curls. As he slanted her head back, he started to bend down and murmured, "There's something else I'd much rather be doing."
"Gleeps. Me, too." Her answer was breathy, soft and slow. All she could see was his beloved face as he loomed in closer. And when his lips claimed hers, gently, tenderly; all rational thought fled, to be replaced with a desire that was almost insane in its overwhelming power. All she could think was more. Now. All she could ever want was him. Now. It was as clear as the moonlight winding its way through the curtains. He was for her. And she was for him. Right in the here; right in the now. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him as tight as she possibly could, while she pressed up against his, silently demanding more.
Reveling in her passionate response, hardly daring to believe that they were finally at such a turning point in their relationship, he held on and met her, kiss for kiss, touch for touch, moan for moan. His mouth slashed across hers, increasing in force, while desire flowed through his veins. Only when it got too much, too fast, did he stop to take a break, his chest heaving and his breath rough and ragged.
"Jim." His name was like a beloved poem, tripping lightly off her lips. Sighing, she nuzzled against his chest. Her hands bunched the expensive fabric of his shirt, wrinkling it. She didn't care. She nearly tore it off. With her breath finally evening out, she shared hesitantly, "I'm almost afraid to believe that this is real."
A finger traced the place where her skin met dress across her back. He danced along the edge until he felt the zipper. He started to play with it, and nearly, very nearly, gave in to the urge to pull it down. Sensing they weren't quite ready for that, he reluctantly dropped his hand. "It is real," he answered huskily. "Believe it, Trixie Belden. The only thing I'm wondering about right now is why the hell we ever waited so damn long."
Startled, she drew back and took in the serious expression on his face. Even though she wasn't comfortable with flirtatious, she gave it a valiant attempt and succeeded beyond her wildest imaginings. "Well, since we've wasted so much time," she began, her eyelashes fanning her cheeks becomingly as she slanted a coy glance his way. "It only seems right that we really make the effort to make up for it."
His answer was a long, slow, exceedingly delighted grin. "That sounds like the best idea I've heard in a very long time."
The next kiss was as equally potent as the first. Possibly more so, now that they both were clear as crystal in their thoughts. She wrapped her arms around him, reveled in the feeling of having the right to touch him again. She met each kiss with the same verve, the same ferocity, the same passion, her body melting against his where she found it hard to discover where she stopped and he began. Hands raced over each other, encountering hard muscle, silky skin, and soft hair. She didn't know how long they engaged in the kiss. It didn't matter. As long as she was with him, she was fast learning that nothing mattered.
Finally, he gave in. With much less finesse than he would have liked to exhibit, he reached around, fumbled with the zipper, and started pulling it down, his movements more jerky than smooth. A flush appeared on his face, one that had nothing to do with the exertion of their passionate encounter.
The sound couldn't be mistaken. Her eyes popped wide open. She found herself looking deeply into a set of deep green, turbulent with a need she felt all the way through her. His hand went still, flattened against her back. Seeing him uncertain made her want him even more. Without talking, keeping him trapped within her sapphire gaze, she brought her hand up around to where he'd stopped pulling at the zipper. Looking him square in the eye, letting every single ounce of desire pour through and shine out, showing him plainly how much she wanted him, she suggested, her voice raw and low, "Let me finish."
Three words. Three tiny words. And he had his answer. Final and absolute. Unable to take his eyes off her, his breathing already raspy and hoarse, he watched with bated breath as she slipped the zipper the rest of the way down. The ivory slid away, to reveal the dazzling goddess before him. His next breath of air caught in his throat. His mind completely stopped working. There, in front of him, was the embodiment of every dream he'd ever kept buried, of every secret wish he'd wanted to have but never believed he could have fulfilled, of every single thing he'd ever hoped to aspire, even through the broken years they spent apart from each other. To put it simply, she was everything.
Inside, she was trembling…and not entirely with desire. Never one totally confident in her appearance, she unknowingly started to chew on her bottom lip while Jim took his time to peruse her. Sweat pooled in the palms she held against her thighs. A frown creased her forehead. She thought she knew what he was seeing. However, she was very wrong.
Desire was clambering to be unleashed, a primitive, primal beat. He ignored it and took the time to study her, starting with the mass of curls tumbling down to gently caress her shoulders. Her beautiful face, with her wide eyes, pert nose, and giving mouth. God, she was gorgeous. Hell, she was his. Hungrily, his gaze moved downwards, to her chest. A strapless white bra was the last bit of fabric barring him from completely seeing her. A tempting amount of skin was displayed above the material, calling out to him to touch. He valiantly ignored it, moved down to view her toned stomach. He zeroed in on her scar before taking note of the matching white panties. High-cut, they were, and exposed a great deal of long, lean, and impossibly bronzed leg. Sheer hose added a shimmery quality and ended at the top of her thigh. His fingers itched to feel the contrasting texture of skin and silk.
The wall felt solid behind her back. She pressed back against it, needing its support to stand, while the quiet continued around them. Nerves brewed furiously, a fiery cauldron. Squaring her shoulders, unaware that the motion put her breasts even more prominently on display and that he couldn't help but look right at them, she called up enough courage to prod him on. "Jim?" she intoned questioningly, a finger twisting a long, spiraling curl.
His eyes traveled back up to hers. If she'd had any questions about his intentions, they rapidly dissipated. The hunger couldn't be ignored, misconstrued or, as her pounding heart informed her, denied. "Hell, Trix. You've got to forgive me. You are just so damn beautiful," he got out roughly past a knot of need lodged deep within his throat.
"No, I'm…" Stunned, her eyebrows shot up. Memories of another time, another place, when they'd held a very similar conversation in a very similar context flashed vividly before her. Her mouth formed a small O of astonishment. Even after all this time; after all the pain, after all their problems, he still found her beautiful. "Jim," she breathed reverently, awed by the power brought on by the memory. She held a hand gently over her heart.
He hadn't made the connection; hadn't recalled yet an innocent walk on a prom night that had ultimately escalated into something much more memorable and meaningful in a moonlight clearing at Ten Acres, seven long and broken years in their past. "Beautiful," he murmured again. And mine. The thought formed, wasn't spoken, was held tightly to him. At least for now. Without waiting for her reaction, he dove in for another taste. This time, the passion that flared so effortlessly between them couldn't be tamed or contained. His hands dug into her hips, pulling her flush against him where she wouldn't be able to have any doubt of his desire for her, while his tongue dueled wildly with hers. All the while he hoped she realized that he was branding her as his.
The power. The incredible passion. The sweetness of it all. It was hard to deny. And yet it was nothing compared to the tenderness of the memory of that long-ago night. Although they had managed to steal a few other moments before things had gone so totally wrong between them, nothing in her mind had equaled the majestic magic of their first time together. Trixie kept her eyes closed. The wonder of it all came back at her. A shudder shook her, one for all they'd managed to lose. A lone tear came next. It slipped out, started to trickle its way down her cheek.
Jim couldn't help but feel the change in emotion within her. He drew back, concerned. Surprise quickly turned to worry. "Trixie?" he spoke earnestly, using his fingers to wipe away the trial of moisture. "Are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No, no." Unruly blonde curls bounced with the negative shake of her head. "No, not at all. You'd never…no, it's not that. I was just…"
When her voice trailed off, he traced the edge of her cheekbone, hoping to soothe, wanting to comfort. Needing to touch. "You just what?" he asked lowly.
"Remembering." The word was spoken quietly and yet reverberated around the silent room with the force of a thousand canons.
Jim's competent hands stopped. The next breath he drew in was clearly audible. Slowly, he expelled it out. Raw, he replied, "I understand."
Tear-filled eyes looked helplessly up into his. She saw he did, well and truly, and pushed herself further against his chest, knowing she'd be able to draw some much-needed strength from him. Needing it, she carefully rested her head on him. The sound of his heart beating underneath helped calm her more than anything else. Her answer was muffled against his chest. "I knew you would."
His hand dove into the tumbling mass of golden curls. He held her head against him, his arms providing her the sanctuary she so desperately needed right now. She, in turn, and without realizing it, returned the same courtesy to him. A small grin curved his lips after she wrapped her arms around his waist and held on as tightly to him as he was to her. After a few minutes of merely enjoying holding each other, he decided to find out what came next. Almost anxiously, he posed the next question, praying she would give him the answer he wanted right now, "Umm, Trix? What do we do now?"
She lifted her head and rested her chin on his chest. Looking through eyes the color of soaked sapphires, she replied quietly, "It's simple, Jim. We have to try and make some memories. Better memories."
Jim's eyebrows shot straight up. The answer sank in. She was giving him the green light to proceed. Thanking the fates for the second chance, he let out a relieved sigh. "I like the way you think, Belden," he remarked with a wickedness that contradicted the strain of honorableness that ran through him. Grinning, he splayed a possessive hand in the adorable nether region just below her hips and brought her forward. "I really like the way you think."
A happy little giggle filled the air. As she'd declared earlier, she was ready for some new memories. The slate was clean. Her voice was husky. "It's our night, Jim."
"It is," Jim agreed. He ran the back of his hand up and down the side of her thigh and appreciated the fact that she dropped her head back so that he could look directly into her face. Gazing down at the alluring woman in his arms, he declared, his voice raspy with desire, "We have to make the most of it, Trix. We need to own it."
"Yes." Loving the sentiment, Trixie went up on her tiptoes, ready to go on the offensive. She met the mouth crashing down for hers. Without a qualm, she willingly let go of their past and the pain it had caused them. It was past time to blaze a new trail for them. She didn't know what they'd find at the end of it. She couldn't predict the outcome. But one thing she knew for sure. She was damn well going to enjoy every last bit of the journey, no matter where it took them. Starting right now.
Bedroom. It ran like a lusty mantra through his mind. It was imperative that they move there, and now, before it became much too late. Breathing hard, hardly daring to stop touching her or kissing her and definitely not willing to let her out of his embrace, Jim clumsily started to steer her out of the room. It would have gone much smoother had he been able to release her or if had he been able to stop kissing her. He couldn't though. His mouth needed to be in contact with some part of her body, whether it was her luscious lips or the exposed skin on the upper part of her chest. They only made three steps into the hallway, stumbling the entire way, before Trixie found herself tripping over someone's feet, most likely his. One high-heeled shoe was lost in the process while she teetered precariously on the other. A pair of muscled arms saved her from crashing into the wall.
Laughing in that sort of secretive laugh only lovers could successfully employ, she pushed back the hair that had fallen into her face and grinned up at him. "Thanks for catching me."
"Anytime," he answered roughly, his face buried against her neck. It seemed to be the most natural thing in the world to press her against the wall she'd nearly crashed into. It was even more natural to follow it up with a kiss. He reluctantly left her mouth to travel down her neck. Lips curved into a male smirk when he heard her moan and felt her hands tug his shirt out of the waistband of his pants. He nearly hissed when she touched his bare stomach for the first time. And then she wasn't wasting any time or asking for permission. In true Trixie fashion, she took matters into her own hands and pulled at the front of the shirt. Hard. Studs went flying in every which way. He didn't care.
She worked hard to free first one arm and then the other. Her pink tongue slipped through her lips, enticing him, while she pushed the shirt off him, leaving him half-undressed. When his upper body was free from all confinement, she moved back against the wall and took one moment to study him. Her heart immediately started its erratic pace again. He was so handsome, so desirable, so…everything to her. Wanting to give back some of the pleasure he'd recently given her, she took charge and began reacquainting herself with his body. She pressed a series of soft, welcome, and very wet open-mouthed kisses along his chest.
His eyes nearly crossed. A long, low groan filtered out. He cracked an eye only to gauge the distance remaining between their current position and the bedroom. Maybe, he mused to himself. There was a chance but only if they moved quickly. Very quickly. Catching her hands, he laced his fingers through hers and tugged her along, needing to get to the bedroom, and now, if they had any hopes of making use of the large, inviting and quite comfortable bed.
Trixie followed along. When they made it to the doorway, she blew the rest of his control simply by standing up on her tiptoes and kissing the skin behind his ear. Groaning, he kissed the bed good-bye. So close and yet…there was no way they were making it now. He framed her face with his hands, engaged her in another set of kisses guaranteed to blow their minds, and began guiding her down, to the carpeted floor.
Surprise was bright in her eyes. "Here?" she squeaked, her chest rising and falling with a rapid rhythm.
"Now," was his answer, fiercely spoken. It had to be now. Her answering moan was swallowed by him as he leaned over. His mouth kept hers busy while he worked hard to release her bra. A few quick awkward attempts and the flimsy article of femininity was gone, revealing two treasures he found extremely rewarding. Quickly, he left her mouth and moved with great haste towards the two tempting points he was more than ready to worship.
And Trixie lost any remaining coherent thoughts. Closing her eyes, ignorant of the carpeting scratching against her back, she let out small moan after small moan. One hand was flung back; the other held his head exactly where she wanted it to be, while the delightful pressure began to whirl and swirl within, building up in a deliciously decadent way.
He was fueled by a need he could no longer contain. His breath hot, his mouth busy, Jim started working his way down the rest of her. He skimmed past her navel, traveled along the thin scar before he ended up at the edge of the fine line of satin. He momentarily skipped over her most private area, brought his questing lips to the tight muscles of her thigh. He tucked a finger under the edge of her hose and, with infinite care and a slick precision that nearly drove her wild, started to pull it down. First one leg; then the other. He tossed each pair of hose off to the side. Carefully, he crawled back up, took her mouth in the most searing of kisses while he felt along the edge of her panties, from slim hip to slim hip, before he slipped a questing finger underneath.
She let out a sharp gasp, one that rang with the darkness of her pleasure and the wonderfulness of the feelings he was stirring within. "Oh my…" she cried out, her eyes turning from their normal bright blue to cobalt. Her hips pushed up, demanding more.
Jim found refuge in the curve of her neck. He used the remaining time to relearn her, what made her gasp, what made her sigh, what made her shudder. His body was screaming for release. Ruthlessly, he clamped down on it. There was something much more important to see to. And he'd be damned if he didn't take care of her first.
When the first wave broke, carrying her along on it with its soft and gentle flow, Trixie let out a low, wanton cry of extreme ecstasy. As it left her, she melted against the carpet, her tanned skin standing out in brilliant contrast against the cream, and looked up at him, the creator of such phenomenal pleasure. She didn't know it. She couldn't see it. But love was shining brightly in her eyes.
The need was riding him hard, too hard. He didn't take the time to look. Breathing hard, Jim worked quickly. He pulled down her skimpy panties, tossed them away, and pushed down his pants. After finding a necessary item, he tore it open and competently sheathed himself, all the while staring at the bounty spread out before him, drinking her in. And just like that, he was inside her, right where he'd longed to be for just about ever. He held himself totally still, ignoring the fact that his body demanded more, much more, and right now. He had to pause, to simply savor the moment, the feel. To savor her. He dropped his forehead to hers and brushed her lips once, twice, with his. "You amaze me," he whispered, his breath tickling her cheek.
"Hmm," was all she as capable of. Her eyelids closed while she opened herself to the sensations. Gold. She felt like she was awash with gold. Pure, smooth, and priceless. The languid feeling rapidly faded away once he started to move. First with long, leisurely thrusts. Swiftly they gave way to more hard, demanding ones. Everything began to build again, only this time with much more urgency, much more strength. Their legs entwined. She held on tightly to the man who was demanding with every single thrust that she let go, and do it now. After feeling like she couldn't attain another plateau of pleasure without splintering, she finally allowed herself to go, with Jim following her in a very close second.
He collapsed. There wasn't any other word for it. Exhausted, but of the excellent kind, he fell on top of her, pushing her deeper into the carpet. He stroked her hair, unaware if he was trying to quiet her or himself, completely willing to enjoy the aftershocks of their combined pleasure together.
"Don't move," she ordered when she felt him start to do just that. Her arms came up, held him there, against her. Sated and delighted, she smiled against his skin. She loved having him with her. She loved having the right to touch him again. She briefly wondered how she'd ever managed to do without him in her life. Somehow, it didn't seem possible. On a low hum, she murmured huskily, "Stay. Stay right here."
"No problem. I think it'll be years before I'm able to move again," he mumbled from his sanctuary by her neck, only half-joking. At the moment, he honestly wasn't certain if he could move again. Not that achieving mobility mattered. Being pillowed by her was unbelievably nice.
"Gleeps, Jim! I know the feeling." Trixie's whole body hummed with the most wondrous of energies. Lazily, she lifted an arm, put it behind her head, completely ignorant of the sexiness of the pose. It wasn't lost on Jim who'd lifted his head. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her. "Doesn't it feel perfectly perfect?"
Chuckling, he gently nipped a bit of skin by her neck and blew on it, causing a new set of shivers to race up and down her spine. His chuckles grew at her answering sigh. Knowing he was too heavy, he flopped over onto his back, bringing her with him. His hands settled at her waist, began kneading the skin there. With a slight tease to his voice, he wondered aloud, "Do you think we'll be able to make it to the bed next time?"
Blue eyes clouded with a touch of whimsy peeped up at him from his chest. "Maybe. Maybe not." She looked over her shoulder, noted with delight how their legs were still tangled up together, and started running her bare foot up and down his leg. Slanting him a saucy glance, she added, "It is an awfully long distance, you know."
He could see the bed out of the corner of his eyes. Seven feet away, tops, if that. An awfully long distance, indeed. With a lazy, lopsided grin, he rested his hands above his head and wrapped a bare leg over hers, lightly imprisoning her to his body. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see how things…progress," he finished on a suggestive note.
Twin eyebrows shot up. Aware of exactly what she was doing, she slowly slithered her way up his body. A part of him he'd erroneously thought was satisfied started to rejuvenate much quicker than he'd expected it to. He couldn't help but attribute it to the sexy slinkiness of the premeditated movement. Interested, he watched her.
She waited until they were face-to-face. With only an inch of air between their mouths, she complimented him with an amused glint, knowing exactly what she was stirring up, "I like the way you think, Frayne."
He gulped. Yeah. He definitely wasn't immune to a gorgeous, naked woman draped over his body. With a hoarse voice he attempted to joke back, "I think I've heard something like that before."
"You did. I'm tossing your words back at you. But you haven't let me finish it yet," she complained through a sunny smile, running soft fingers up and down the side of his stomach.
When her hand went lower than he'd expected it to, his head fell back. "Sorry," he apologized through a knot in his throat, wishing she would be just a little more adventurous than her feather light touches.
Her smile turned sultry. She knew what she was doing. Rather pleased with herself, she whispered again, "I really like the way you think."
Letting out a growl, he fisted a hand in her curls and dragged her head down for a long, rekindling type of a kiss. He broke it off when she finally answered his unvoiced wish. He swore his eyes rolled back into his head. "Damn, Trix. I think the night is going to progress very nicely," he replied hoarsely. Incredibly, need was rising again. He closed his eyes to enjoy the sensations she was now weaving over him.
She looked up once again. Her confidence grew with each labored breath of his. "We've got the whole of it to ourselves," she murmured raggedly, already feeling the welcome twinges of desire started to spiral within again. She moved in closer. Hip to hip, chest to chest, and soul to soul. Throatily, she said against his lips seconds before she took control, her tone filled with unspoken promises she more than wanted to see fulfilled, "All night, Jim. That's what we've got. Let's see what we can do with it."
Neither of them wanted to waste a precious second of the night; not now, not when they'd finally broken through the last of the barriers standing between them. The road that had stretched out behind them, in all its broken, dilapidated starkness, was well on its way to being mended, and gloriously so, with each touch, each whisper, and every soft kiss. And it was truly a long, long time before they finally made use of the bed.