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“Well, my dad is dying for us to go visit him in Texas. Which holiday would you rather spend with your parents?”
I’ve always gone home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. It’ll be sad to not do that. “What if they all came here for the holidays?” I ask, hopeful.
“Britt,” he says gently, which means bad news is coming. “I have one spare bedroom, and I’m not going to have to pick which set of parents has to stay in a hotel.”
Crap. “Which is going to be easier for you? Going home in November or December?” Maybe Trace doesn’t want to be in Texas in December. That’s the month his mom died.
He takes a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter to me. I go by her grave whenever I’m in town, so it doesn’t matter,” he repeats. “We don’t have to decide now anyway. We were talking about our birthdays, which are much sooner and therefore, more important.”
“I want to see my parents, so as long as that happens, I don’t care.” We haven’t seen them since we went to the beach. It’s about time. “What do you want to do for yours?”
Trace shrugs. “Sex?”
I throw a piece of pancake at him, laughing. It falls to the floor. Lily is on it before we have a chance to grab it. Figures that’s the answer he’d pick. Now, our plates are empty. I stand and take them over to the sink. “I need to tell you something, so let’s be serious for a moment.”
He frowns, as if that’s bad news, and pulls me to straddle his lap once I’m close enough. “What is it, Britt?”
My arms snake around his neck and I rest my forehead against his. “I need to tell you something.”
“You already said that.”
“Right.” Suddenly, I’m nervous about saying the words that need to be said. Maybe I should’ve waited for the right moment instead of making a big deal out of it. It is a big deal, though.
“Just tell me,” he says softly.
“I trust you,” I whisper.
His chest deflates and he stares at me for a moment. “Say it again.”
“I trust you.”
“Again.”
“I trust you.”
“One more.”
I laugh. “I trust you, Trace.”
He cuts off my laugh with a kiss. It’s demanding, hard, powerful, but best of all, it’s mixed with desire and love. I can feel his hard length already and I know that in about two seconds, he’s going to stand and carry me to the bedroom. Trace surprises me instead by pulling away from me.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re happy?”
“Happier than ever.”
A rush of relief-filled air leaves him. Trace is staring at me like he doesn’t know what to do with me. Or, that there’s so many things and he can’t decide what to do first. I get out of his lap and hold out my hand. Trace stands, taking it in his. My mouth waters as I decide what we’re going to do first. I don’t do it nearly as often as Trace goes down on me, but I’d say he deserves it. Once we’re in his bedroom, I turn to face Trace, who grins.
“I know that look.”
“What look?”
“That look you get when you’re about to make me very happy.”
I laugh. “Stop talking before you make me change my mind.”
