Chasing Olivia (Trace + Olivia #2) (19 page)

“The Spice Girls,” I giggled, shaking my head back and forth. “What else do you have on there?” I eyed his iPhone.

“Once upon a time I had a big crush on Ginger Spice. Don’t judge me, woman,” he joked, changing the playlist. “And there might be one Britney Spears song on there.” I eyed him. “Okay, maybe two. But don’t tell me you never had a crush on one of those 90’s boy bands.”

“I did,” I smiled.

“Which one?”

“Backstreet Boys,” I admitted.

“And who was your favorite?” He asked, fighting a smile.

I squirmed in my seat. “Brian,” I muttered.

“’Everybody, yeah. Rock your body, yeah. Everybody, yeah. Rock your body right. Backstreet’s back, alright.’”

“I can’t believe you know that song,” I bit my lip to stifle my laughter.

“I think every kid growing up in the 90’s knew that song, not to mention countless other pop songs,” he shrugged. “You couldn’t escape them. Don’t worry, my parent’s still exposed me to the classics,” he smirked.

“What’s your favorite song then?” I asked.

He bit his lip, his eyes narrowed in thought. “Don’t make me choose. I love all kinds of music so it’s impossible for me to pick one.”

“That’s a sucky answer,” I frowned. “But I don’t think I have a favorite song either.”

“See?” He grinned, finally backing out of the parking space after our impromptu Spice Girls sing-along. “There are too many good ones to pick only one. I don’t even have a favorite artist or band. Picking one over another would be like…” He paused, thinking. “Like picking a favorite child. Impossible and unfair.”

“Do you think your taste in music has changed since you were younger? I know mine has,” I kicked my sneakers off, getting comfortable since I had no idea how long it would be until we stopped.

“Hell yeah,” he chuckled, changing lanes. “I used to sing Farmer in the Dell
all
the time. It drove my parents nuts. Then I moved on to the Spice Girls,” he joked. “After that, I listened to a lot of heavy rock music…I call that my angst years. Now I like pretty much every genre of music. If it has a good beat and lyrics I can appreciate then I’m cool with it.” He glanced over at me for a moment, and then said, “I like how different types of music can set a certain mood, or make something even more memorable. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I do,” I nodded.

“For example,” his eyes met mine briefly before darting back to the road, “when I took you to karaoke night, to cross singing off your list, I picked Just a Kiss for a reason. I was too scared to tell you what I was feeling, so I chose that song.”

I snorted. “Then you did kiss me, and ran away,” I looked out the window, avoiding the look I knew he was bound to be giving me.

“I’m still sorry about that,” he whispered. “It was a pussy move for me to make. I was scared of what I felt for you, Olivia. I had
never
felt that before.”

“Felt what?” I asked, curiously.

“Like I’d be lost without you,” he murmured. “I know that sounds like such a chick thing to say, but it’s true. I knew you were different from the moment I met you. You’re not like other girls, Olivia. You’re just…you…and that’s why I love you. There isn’t one thing in particular that I love about you…it’s everything. You’re beautiful, and smart, and you don’t mind the random shit I say, or my crappy dancing…”

“Whoa,” I breathed. “That was…deep.”

“Hey,” he put a hand to his chest, his eyes on the road, “I can be a deep guy. Give me some credit, woman.”

“Oh please,” I rolled my eyes. “Your ‘deep’ moments are few and far between. I need to soak this in while I can.”

“I can be serious,” he frowned.

“You were watching Dora the Explorer while eating Trix cereal last week,” I rolled my eyes.

“I like the Backpack song,” he grinned.

“Of course you do,” I laughed.

“Seriously, though,” he reached for my hand, “I meant what I said.”

“I know you did,” I smiled, “and in case you were wondering, I feel the same way about you.” I leaned over and kissed his stubbled cheek.

His eyes were a dark forest green when he looked down at me briefly. “I love you, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” Slowly, he brought my left hand up to his lips, kissing the top of it before grazing his lips over my engagement ring. “I can’t wait until you’re Mrs. Wentworth.”

“Me either,” I laid my head on his shoulder, a smile on my face, a smile that rarely ever left thanks to him.

Rain beat down on the car and a crack of thunder roared, causing me to jump. I hadn’t seen a storm this bad in a long time. The rain was so heavy that I could barely see out the window.

Trace came running back to the car, completely soaked.

“They’re full too,” he groaned, leaning his head back as he stared at the car ceiling. “Apparently the storm has caused all the motels to fill up. There’s not another one for at least fifty miles and I’m exhausted. I can’t keep driving.”

“I can—”

“No,” he pressed a finger over my lips, shushing me. “Only I drive the Camaro.”

I glanced at the backseat and then at him. “We can sleep in the car. The backseat is bigger than most.”

“I don’t think we have much choice,” he rubbed his eyes, then buckled his seatbelt. “I’ll try to find a safe place to park.”

I jumped again as lightning lit the sky.

“I don’t like this,” I admitted reluctantly.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he chuckled.

“How?”

“Cover your body with mine,” he smirked, “problem solved.”

“I should’ve known,” I forced a smile, because not even Trace’s sense of humor could make me feel better right now. Thunder growled ominously and I prayed we made it through this storm alive.

Trace drove at a snail’s pace as the windshield wipers worked overtime to clear the glass. The rain was coming down so fast that we could only see a few feet in front of us. I hoped the wind—that was currently trying to push the car into the wrong lane—would blow the storm passed …and quickly.

Trace pulled the car as far off the side of the road as he could manage without crashing into one of those wire fences they used to keep cattle back and turned the flashers on.

“This is g-g-good enough,” he shivered, his teeth clacking together. His hair was plastered to his head and water dripped off his chin. His clothes were soaked and if he didn’t change into something dry, he was going to get sick. Unfortunately, our clothes were in the trunk, and there was no way to get to them without getting out of the car…which would lead to the dry clothes getting wet. “There’s enough gas to let the car run,” he muttered, turning up the heat.

I guess that counted for something.

I unbuckled the seatbelt and climbed into the back.

“Are you coming?” I asked him.

“Y-yeah,” his body trembled with another shiver. He cupped his hands over his mouth, blowing hot air against them. “I’m cold,” he said unnecessarily.

“I know you are, come here,” I patted the backseat.

His wet clothes made a squishing sound against the leather seats as he climbed in the back.

“You need to get out of your clothes,” I told him, already reaching for his plaid shirt and pushing it off his shoulders.

He grinned crookedly. “You l-l-love any excuse t-t-to get m-m-me out of m-m-my clothes,” his teeth chattered.

“Right now, I’m more concerned with getting you warm before you get sick.”

“Oooh, are you going t-t-to wear a n-n-nurse’s outfit and feed me by hand?” Despite the fact that he was shivering uncontrollably the man was still making jokes and there was a mischievous glimmer in his green eyes.

“Sorry,” I spread my arms wide, “no nurse’s outfit here.”

“D-d-darn,” he shivered, letting the plaid shirt drop to the floor.

I pulled his white t-shirt over his head and it fell to the floor as well. His jeans were the next to go.

When I curled my body around his, he stuck his thumb in the elastic of his boxers letting it snap against his skin. “A-a-are these s-s-staying o-o-on?”

I laughed weakly. “Yeah, they are.”

“A-a-and h-h-here I thought y-y-you had an u-u-ulterior m-m-motive for g-g-getting me n-n-naked.”

“You are…something else,” I muttered, laying atop his chest and wrapping my arms around his neck. Only Trace would make sexual advances while freezing to death.

“S-s-so I-I-I’ve b-b-been t-t-told.”

I pressed my face against his chest, hoping my body heat would help him get warm. It wasn’t working though. His body was so cold that
I
was becoming chilled.

Another loud clap of thunder had me letting out a squeal.

“I-I-It’s o-o-okay,” his large hand spread across my back, rubbing up and down in comfort.

I ruffled my fingers through his hair, trying to dry it.

“I-I-I’m f-f-fine.”

“No, you’re not. Stop trying to be Mr. Tough Guy and let me take care of you.”

“O-o-okay, b-b-bossy p-p-pants.”

“Stop talking,” I mumbled, moving my hands across his chest, trying to transfer my warmth to him.

“M-m-maybe y-y-you s-s-should k-k-kiss me and w-w-warm my l-l-lips,” he tried to smile.

“Nice try, Trace. Now seriously, shush.”

I took my tank top off and his eyes widened. “Don’t even think about it,” I warned as I balled the shirt up and used it as a makeshift towel to dry his body.

I dried his chest and arms first, then scooted down his body to dry his legs. I gasped in surprise when I felt the prominent bulge. “Trace,” I gasped his name in shock.

A crooked smile graced his lips for a moment. “I c-c-can’t help it. It has a m-m-mind of it’s own.”

I rolled my eyes but I was pleased that his teeth weren’t chattering as much. The car was quickly building in heat, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the heaters blowing full blast or us.

After I dried his legs, I somehow ended up straddling his chest. He grabbed my legs, just below my butt, his fingers grazing against the edge of my shorts. “I think I’m warm now,” lust filled green eyes gazed into my own.

A shaky breath rolled through my body as he sat up and I slid down until my center was pressed right up against him.

“You know,” he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear that had escaped the confines of the braid I’d put it in earlier, “I’ve never had sex in a car before.”

“Really?” My voice shook. Funny, how only minutes ago
he’d
been the one shaking. Now, with a few words he had me shaking like a leaf.

“Really,” his lips brushed lightly against mine, causing a soft moan to escape me.

“Are you sure we should do this?” I questioned, my eyes fluttering closed as he nipped at my neck.

“Do what?”

“Have sex in your car,” I gasped as he pressed kisses to the tops of my breasts.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a better idea,” he pulled down the cups of my bra. “I think this is the perfect way to warm me up.” His mouth closed over one of my nipples and I was lost. My fingers tangled in his damp hair. He unclasped my bra and tossed it to the floor of the car. With deft fingers, he unsnapped the button of my shorts and eased the zipper down. They too joined the rapidly growing pile of clothes on the floor.

He reached down for his jeans, grabbing his wallet, and pulling out a condom.

“Always prepared,” I joked.

“You never know,” he grinned wickedly, then reach for my panties, ripping them from my body.

“Trace!”

“They were in my way,” he smirked, sliding his boxers down.

I took the condom packet from him and tore it open. I slowly rolled it on him, smiling in satisfaction when he twitched against my hand.

“I need to be inside you,” he pushed my hands out of the way and finished putting it on himself.

I squealed when he grabbed me by the waist and slowly lowered me down his length.

“Oh God,” we both moaned simultaneously.

His mouth descended on mine, and his tongue pressed against my lips, seeking entrance.

He rocked me slowly against him, setting the rhythm.

Everything except us ceased to exist in that moment.

I was consumed by the feelings he was creating in me.

His hand skated up my back, making me shiver. He pulled the ponytail holder from my hair and let it fall forward to conceal us. He cupped my face in his hands, kissing me deeply and making my stomach flutter in the process. Before Trace, I never thought anyone would ever make me feel the way he does…make me want to expose myself in such an intimate way. I might not have been a virgin when I met him, but my first time didn’t really count. A drunken encounter at a party wasn’t comparable to the bond I shared with Trace. What we had…was special. I knew enough to see that.

I clasped the ends of his hair in my hands. Laying my head on his shoulder I rocked my hips slowly against him.

Our gasping breaths filled the car. All thoughts of someone seeing us had long disappeared.

“I love you,” I murmured, pressing my lips against his throat.

Until I met Trace, I hadn’t understood how powerful those three words were. Some people tossed them around like they were nothing, when they meant everything. When you love someone as completely as I love Trace, you can make it through everything as long as you’re together.