Finding Olivia (Trace + Olivia #1) (21 page)

Trace’s eyes met mine when the zipper could go no further.

He scooted down in the bed, placing tender kisses along my breasts, and stomach as he went.

He spread my thighs apart, and not taking his eyes from mine, he blew a gust of hot air against where I needed him the most.

This was torture.

The sweetest, most delicious, kind of torture, but torture nonetheless.

He hooked his fingers through the belt loops of my jeans, tugging them down slowly. Trace kissed each piece of skin my jeans uncovered. Not a centimeter was left untouched by his lips.

I heard my jeans fall to the floor and then we were both left in only our underwear. He moved back up my body, kissing his way there.

When he reached my face, he clasped both of our hands together, and stared into my eyes.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered.

“I’m not.”

He released one of my hands and smoothed his large thumb over the skin between my brows. “This wrinkle here suggests otherwise.”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. I didn’t know how to express to Trace exactly what I was feeling. I wasn’t scared about the actual sex…I was scared that sex with Trace would only make me fall harder for him.

“I am a little nervous,” I admitted reluctantly.

“Don’t be nervous with me, ever, Olivia,” he whispered, staring intently into my eyes.

“Okay,” I replied but his words had done nothing to ease my racing heart. I feared that it might gallop right out of my chest.

He kissed the dip between my breasts, before releasing my hands
, and palming them.

“You have the most perfect breasts I’ve ever seen,” he gazed down at them. I squirmed under his scrutiny. He pressed one hand against my stomach, stilling me. “Don’t do that,” he scolded. “There’s no need to be embarrassed I’m just…enjoying the view.”

I nodded.

His hands skimmed lower and then came back to my breasts.

Goosebumps broke out across my skin from pleasure and my head rolled to the side.

He gripped my chin and forced my head back.

“Don’t look away from me and keep your eyes open. I want to see you,” he rasped.

I nodded, my voice
leaving me, and he placed a tender kiss on the end of my nose.

“Look at me,” he warned again when my eyes threatened to flutter closed.

I opened them wide and he smiled.

His head dipped down and he began to kiss my neck
. Then moved down to my breasts, where he spent an exceptionally long time, and over my stomach. His tongue flicked out, playing with my belly button ring.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispered so low that I couldn’t be sure I heard him correctly.

His fingers hooked into the edge of my panties but he didn’t pull them down.

One hand ventured inside the elastic and he hissed through his teeth when he found how wet I was.

One finger slipped inside, pumping in and out.

“Trace,” I gasped.

Just as I was getting accustomed to the feeling, he removed his finger, and pulled my panties down, kissing my thighs and calves as he went.

His eyes flicked up to meet mine before his tongue delved into me.

“Trace, don’t,” I cried, but it was too late.

His tongue swirled over my sensitive nub and I bucked against him. His chuckle vibrated against me
, and if I had half a brain left, I’d be blushing.

He lapped at my aching core and I was a willing prisoner to the feel of it.

His tongue swirled inside my entrance, and my hips lifted up off the mattress, desperate for more.

I mewled in protest as he rose up. “Enjoying yourself, baby?”

I nodded woodenly, but what I wanted to say was,
Oh, yeah
.

He grinned and dipped his head back down. His mouth closed around my clit and tingles zinged through my body.
I knew I was close to reaching that peak everyone talked about.

He sucked harder and I came apart.

I’m pretty sure I saw stars at that moment, or maybe it was heaven, because I could have died and never known.

My fingers tangled into the soft strands of his hair.

He lifted up and smiled at me. His lips were slick, and instead of being disgusted, it only made me want him more.

“That’s just orgasm number one,” he murmured promisingly.

My body hummed at his words.

More?

Was that possible?

He moved back up my body, kissing me deeply, as his erection pressed against me.

I gripped his boxers and pulled them down. He removed them the rest of the way, and rested between my thighs, his hot length pulsing against me.

My heart stuttered, knowing what was about to happen.

I hadn’t known Trace very long but this felt
right
with him.

He twisted his fingers in my hair, gazing down at me.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but kissed me instead, our tongues tangling together.

My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him against my core.

“Not yet,” he rasped.

He flipped to his back, taking me with him, so that I straddled his hips and gazed down at him.

He may have called me beautiful, but he was wrong. Trace was the beautiful one, inside and out, not me.

His fingers trailed gently up my back
, causing me to shiver.

He sat up and took one on my breasts in his mouth. I cried out, gripping the short
dark hairs at the base of his neck to steady myself.

All of the nerve-endings in my body seemed to react to his touch.

His body was warm against mine and slightly damp with sweat.

His arms wrapped around me, hands clasping
around my back, bringing our chests flush against each other. I bent my head, kissing his lips, chin, and neck.

He felt perfect against me. I knew, then, that Trace was it for me. There would never be anyone else that made me feel this way.
It wasn’t possible for more than one person to make you feel this…complete.
This
was once in a lifetime, and once you found it, you held onto it with everything you had.

He flipped me over so my back rested against the mattress and my head was cradled on his pillow.

He reached for his night table and opened the drawer. Pulling out a foil packet, he laid it beside my head.

He held himself above me,
his eyes roaming over my body, and I did the same to him.

His body was muscular and masculine, the hard length of him jutting proudly out of his body.

I reached down, and gripped him in my hand, feeling him twitch.

He swallowed thickly as I smoothed my hand up and down, rubbing my thumb over the sensitive pink head. A small drop of liquid coated my thumb and I swirled it around.

He gazed down at me and a small smile graced his lips.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, reaching for the condom packet.

He ripped it open and together we fixed it onto his length.

“Ready?” He asked
.

“I’ve been ready,” I panted, “you’re the one that insists on dragging this out.”

He chuckled huskily. “Perfection takes time, baby, and you deserve nothing less.”

“I thought you said perfection doesn’t exist?”

“It doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth searching for,” he reached between us and guided his thick length to my entrance. He squeezed inside, just an inch and stopped. “Oh, God,” he moaned.

My heart beat faster at the intrusion. Trace was large
, and I had only had sex once before, my body still unaccustomed to the foreign feeling.

He slid inside slowly, the rest of the way, and stopped there.

He looked down at me and panted, “I was wrong. Perfection does exist and it’s right here. With me inside you.”

I gasped as he pulled out
, and then rolled his hips forward, slamming firmly back into me.

I clawed at his back, desperately
seeking something to hold onto, and anchor myself.

He
reached around, and undid my hands from his neck, then entwined our fingers together once more as he slowly rocked in and out of me.

This
was making love.

“You’re so tight, Olivia,” he panted before frantically seeking my lips and sealing them with his own.

The temperature in the room rose and I wondered if we were close to lighting the small apartment on fire with the friction we were creating.

Sweat dotted his skin and dampened his hair.

He released my hands and gripped the wooden headboard in his hands.

The change in position left me gasping in pleasure. “Right there,” I encouraged, raking my fingernails up and down his back.

His jaw tightened and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Look at me, Trace,” I pleaded like he had with me earlier.
I needed to see him. I
needed
to know that he was feeling all the same things that I was.

He complied, bright green eyes connecting with my own.

“It’s never felt this good before,” he confessed and peppered my face with kisses.

A low moan built in his throat and he reached between us, rubbing his thumb over my clit.

My body arched as my hips lifted to meet his.

He rocked in and out, still rubbing that spot, and I felt my body tighten.

He let go of the headboard and raised my hips, adjusting the position again, and it felt like he was filling every part of me.

With a scream,
my orgasm tore through my body, and I cried his name.

He silenced
me with his mouth, sucking on my lower lip.

“I love the way you scream my name,” he growled.

He pumped in and out a few more times, and then I felt him twitch inside me, growling as he came.

“Oh, holy fuck, Olivia,” he roared, the veins in his neck popping out.

He slumped forward, careful to hold his weight above me, and pressed his face into the crook of my neck.

Tender kisses were exchanged, both of us shaking slightly, until we finally passed out from exhaustion.

c h a p t e r

Seventeen

Light spilled into the bedroom
, and across my bare chest, warming me.

I glanced to my left at Trace. He was sound asleep, on his stomach, the sheet barely covering his bottom. His heavy arm was draped over my stomach as if he had tried to pull me closer
during the night.

I studied the way his long dark lashes fanned across his angular cheekbones. His lips were slightly parted as he breathed deeply in and out. His cheeks were dotted
with stubble and my thighs were chafed from where his cheeks rubbed against them.

My body was sore,
but not overly so. Despite the tenderness from over-worked muscles, I had never felt better.

Last night had been…perfect. I didn’t regret a moment. I knew, now, what Avery was talking about. Sex was wonderful, when it’s with the right person. Not to mention, Trace knew exactly what he was doing. Maybe that should have bothered me, but
for some reason, it didn’t.

I sat up, gently placing Trace’s arm on the bed
, as I slid out. I sat on the edge of the mattress, trying to run my fingers through my knotted hair, but it was futile. Only conditioner and patience with a comb would remove the knots.

I peeked over my shoulder at his sleeping form
, before standing, and gathering my panties, then the rest of my clothes from the living room.

I couldn’t
contain my laughter when I picked up my sweatshirt.

So much for Avery’s theory of a sweatshirt being a chastity belt.

I rolled my clothes into a ball and opened the door to the only bathroom.

It was surprisingly clean, like the rest of his apartment. There was a razor sitting on the sink, and an open tube of toothpaste, but that was as messy as it got.

I dropped my clothes on the floor and started the shower. I searched through the small cabinet underneath the sink for a towel. I almost expected him to have plaid towels, but they were a light solid gray, and super soft.

The bathroom quickly filled with steam
, and I pushed the shower curtain back, stepping inside.

The hot water felt like heaven on my sore muscles.
I closed my eyes and let the hot water work out the kinks in my muscles.

I yelped in surprise when the shower curtain slid open.

Trace grinned, e
yes raking over my body. “How are you feeling?”

Deliciously sore.
“Fine,” I replied with a smile.

He wrapped a hand around my waist, pulling me away from the spray. He pecked me on the lips, and my fingers tangled in his sex-rumpled hair.

“Let me wash you,” he murmured huskily, reaching for his soap.

I swallowed as my heart rate
quickened.

He opened the shower curtain and reached out for a cloth.
He slid the curtain back into place and the hooks rattled against the metal rod.

The cloth
was the same light gray color as the towel and he reached behind me to lightly wet it.

He squirted a dollop of soap onto the cloth and rubbed
the ends together until it foamed.

“Come here,” he took my hand and switched places with me
, so that the spray of water was beating on his back, and not mine.

He gently rubbed the cloth over my shoulders, up my neck, and down my chest. He paid special attention to my breasts and when he reached my stomach he dropped to his knees. He kissed the apex of my thighs before soaping that area as well. Trace scrubbed both of my legs thoroughly
, and then warned, “Hold on.”

I grabbed ahold of the metal shower curtain bar as one of my legs was yanked out from under me.

He placed light kisses on each of my toes and then carefully rubbed each one with the soapy cloth. He lifted my foot and steadied me with a hand on my opposite leg when I swayed.

“You okay?” He asked.

“I’m good,” I squeaked.

When he was sure I had my balance again, he massaged the bottom of my foot
, and cleaned it as well.

He did the same thing with my other leg.

When he was finished, he swirled his finger in the air, motioning me to turn around.

He cleaned the back of me and stood again, lifting my hair off my neck
, and tenderly kissing the exposed area.

I fell back against his chest and his hands rested on my thighs.

We stood like that for a few seconds, and then he turned me around, so we were facing one another.

He stepped back, forcing
both of us under the spray of water.

“Trace!” I squealed. “A little warning would have been nice!”

He chuckled and the sound vibrated through my body.

“It’s just a
little water, baby,” he grinned, rubbing me to make sure all the soap was gone. “Let me wash your hair,” he coaxed my head under the water.

Once every strand was wet, he rubbed his woodsy scented soap into my hair.

He massaged my scalp and I found myself moaning in pleasure, which only served to make him laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me,” I scolded.

“I’m not. I’m laughing at myself,” he muttered.

“Why?” My eyes popped open as he guided me under the water once more and began to work the soap out of my hair.

“Because, this was about you. I wanted to please you in a completely non-sexual way and—” he looked down significantly, “—you had to go and make those sexy noises.”

I looked down at the thick length arching beautifully out of his body.

“Hmm,” I murmured, “I think we’re going to have to do something to fix that.”

★★★

I quietly opened the door from the garage that led into Avery’s house. I had text Avery before I arrived and she gave me the code so I could get inside the house.

I turned around, easing it closed, and locking it with a soft click.

“Well, well, well, look who’s doing the walk of shame and it’s
not
my little sister,” a guy chortled behind me.

I turned around, biting nervously on my bottom lip.

Even though it was almost noon, he was only wearing a pair of black boxer briefs. He was drinking straight out of the bottle of orange juice and scratching his crotch.

I snorted. This had to be Nick.

He had shaggy strawberry blonde hair that hung just past his ears and he was huge. His height dwarfed my small size and he was built like a stocky football player. He had to be at least six-foot four.

“You must be Nick,” I responded, a slight squeak to my voice.

“And you must be…actually, I don’t know,” he chuckled.

“Olivia,” I answered.

“My sister’s roommate?” He raised a brow. “What are you doing here?”

“Family troubles,” I replied. No way was I telling him all about the soap opera my life had become.

“Gotcha,” he scratched his chiseled chest. “Avery wouldn’t tell me,” he winked. “I thought if I played dumb you might give me more information. So,” he looked between the door and me, “if you’re having family troubles, and staying here, where have you been?”

I pressed myself flat against the door, wishing I could slip right through it.

“Leave the girl alone, she was getting her brains banged out by a sex-god,” Avery smirked at her brother as she stood in the hallway outside of the mudroom. “And she better tell me all about it.”

“Avery!”

“Don’t deny that you went to him last night. I have radar for these things,” she eyed me, disappearing into the kitchen.

I scurried after her so that I wasn’t left alone with Nick again.

I sat down at one of the barstools while Avery made a bowl of cereal.

Nick pulled out the barstool beside me and I bristled.

“Hungry?” Avery asked, holding the gallon jug of milk in her hand.

“I already ate,” I told her.

She grinned. “I bet you did.”

“Avery!” I exclaimed again.

She chuckled, grabbing a spoon from one of the many drawers. It would take me years to explore every nook and cranny of this large house.

“After your all night sexathon you should probably eat something with some protein. Build up your endurance,” she winked and sat
down on the other free stool beside me. She leaned around me and leveled her older brother with a glare. “Nickolas, leave,” she warned.

“No,” he smirked, “I want to know what girls talk about when guys aren’t listening.”

“I guess you better spontaneously grow a vagina because we won’t be talking about
anything
in front of you,” she snapped. “Come on. I’ll eat in my room,” she grabbed my arm, dragging me behind her, and upstairs.

She opened the door to her room and I found that it was pretty similar to her side of our dorm room, in the fact that it was a mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere and junk was stacked on her tables, dresser, and bookcases. I wondered how she ever found anything.

The walls were painted in a bright Kelly green and her comforter was the same color. All the furniture was white.

Avery swiped her
hand across two chairs, that I hadn’t seen in all the mess, dislodging the clutter that had been sitting on them.

I took a seat on one of the chairs and she took the other.

“Tell me,” she munched on her Frosted Flakes cereal, “did you have sex with him?”

I blushed and looked away.

“You did!” She shrieked and I heard the sound of her cereal and milk sloshing over the lip of the bowl. “Shit,” she muttered, looking at the mess she had made. “Oh well,” she shrugged. “So,” she grinned, “how was it? Did he have big dick? I bet he did.”

I did not want to share this kind of information with Avery, best friend or not, it was personal.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I muttered. “And I am definitely
not
telling you that.”

“Give me a range here, please?” She begged. “Good? Bad? Off the charts?
This big or
this
big,” she held up her fingers in different lengths.

“
Shut up, Avery! I’m not talking about
that
with you!” I waved my hands back and forth. “As far as how the sex was, I don’t think I’m the right person to judge it,” I mumbled. “I don’t have a lot of experience.”

“That doesn’t matter, trust me,” she finished what was left of her cereal since most of it had ended up on the floor.

“Off the charts,” I reluctantly answered since I knew she wouldn’t drop it until she got some sort of answer out of me.

She squealed shrilly. I was surprised the windows in her bedroom didn’t shatter.

“My little Livie is all grown up,” she pretended to wipe away a tear.

“Oh please,” I rolled my eyes.

“I really am happy for you though,” she smiled. “Now,” she eyed me seriously, “I think you owe me an explanation as to why you’re here.”

“You’re right,” I sighed and began to divulge everything about
Derek being my real dad and what had happened with Aaron. It was wrong of me to keep Avery in the dark, even if I wanted to. She was a good friend, and she deserved to know the truth of why I had called her in the middle of the night, desperate for a place to stay.

“Holy fucking shit,” she whispered when I had finished.

“That makes no sense,” I mumbled.

“I couldn’t think of any other words to express what I’m feeling right now,” she shook her head back and forth, still trying to a
bsorb the information. “This is…” she pulled at her hair, “…shocking.”

“I’ll be right back,” I stood.

“You better,” she narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t worry. I
only want to grab the pictures,” I smiled.

Once in the guest
room, I flipped through the photos again. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to the fact that the man in the pictures was my real dad.

I made my way back to Avery’s bedroom before she hunted me down.

I handed her the stack of pictures and her jaw dropped open. She looked from the pictures and back to me.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “He’s definitely your dad. You look just like him, Livie. I can’t believe this.” She
flipped to the picture of Derek and my mom. “She looks so happy and young,” Avery smiled. “They really loved each other.”

I
looked at the pictures in Avery’s hand and finally managed to say the words that had been stuck in my head since my mom told me. “This changes everything.”