Loving Bailey (22 page)

He didn’t give her a chance to recover. He
backed her into her bedroom, keeping one hand on her hip, steadying
her while the other worked at the buttons on the front of her
shirt. With every inch of creamy skin he uncovered, his cock
throbbed harder. By the time the back of her knees bumped the edge
of the bed, he was sliding the shirt off of her shoulders and his
cock kept time with the beat of his heart.

Bailey stood against the bed clad in her
faded jeans, her full breasts showcased in pale pink lace. It
didn’t matter how many times he saw her, he’d never get enough. He
bent to kiss her jaw, scraping his teeth along her neck, and was
rewarded with her soft moan of pleasure. Feeling her tremble under
his hands and mouth, he guided her down to lie on the patchwork
quilt covering her bed. Her dark curls fanned across the colorful
fabric and she looked up at him with chocolate brown eyes so full
of desire, it stole his breath.

“God, you’re beautiful, Bailey.”
And I
love you
. He wanted to say it. The words echoed in his head,
but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. So he did the only thing he
could, he showed her with his body. His hands. His mouth. He used
his body to show her what was in his heart.

He climbed onto the bed beside her,
determined to spend hours worshipping her. Making her pleasure his.
He ran his fingers along her cheek and watched her eyes drift
shut.

“Look at me,” he said, lifting her chin with
the tip of his finger.

He needed to look in her eyes while he
touched her, willing her to see his heart and needing to see hers.
Stroking her throat with the back of his hand, he trailed his
fingers down the valley between her breasts. He traced the lace
edge of her bra and grinned as her nipples pebbled tight. The power
to bring her pleasure was intoxicating.

Flipping open the front clasp on her bra, he
peeled the cups away revealing her gorgeous full breasts topped
with rosy peaks, begging to be suckled. But now that he had his
hands on her, he planned to draw things out until she was begging
for him to take her, mindless in her need for him. He stroked the
sides of her breasts, his touch feather light until her flesh
pebbled with goose bumps. Working his way around her creamy skin,
he traced smaller and smaller circles as he neared her nipples.

She arched, pressing her breasts toward him,
a needy sound slipping from between her sweet lips and he almost
lost his resolve to go slow. His cock strained painfully hard
against his jeans, but he was determined to see how many times he
could make her come before he let himself sink balls deep into her
tight wet heat.

He brushed his thumbs over her nipples,
pinching gently and she whimpered.

“Please, God, Trace,” she said, still
watching him through heavily lidded eyes.

“Please what, baby?”

“I need more. I need you.” She squirmed on
the bed next to him, and he had to dodge her hands when she reached
for him. If she touched him, he didn’t know if he’d be able to hold
himself back.

“We’ve got hours,” he said. “And I plan on
using every one of them to make you come for me.”

He caught her hands and raised them over her
head. “Don’t let go,” he said, twining her fingers around the
wooden rail of the headboard.

She didn’t speak, just nodded, her eyes wide
and dark, but she kept her hands wrapped tight around the rail. He
looked at her stretched out for him and made himself a promise to
try this with ribbons or silks soon. Bailey naked and tied spread
eagle to his bed; the thought was almost more than he could
take.

He sat up so he could see all of her
stretched out and waiting for him to touch her.

“Don’t move.” He reached for the waistband of
her jeans and slid the button open, feeling the soft mound of her
belly tremble under his fingers.

She lifted her hips to make it easier for him
to tug the jeans down her long shapely legs, but she kept her hands
on the headboard. Trace sucked in a shaky breath. She was so
fucking beautiful and he wanted her so much. He left her panties on
for now, the pale pink silk barely covering her damp triangle of
curls. Keeping his gaze locked on her face, he bent his head to her
breast and drew her tight nipple into his mouth, savoring her and
holding on as her back bowed and she breathed his name.

Bailey had no idea pleasure could be so
intense. Trace’s teasing touch woke her nerves and brought her
whole body to life. When he took her in his mouth, she thought
she’d fly apart. It felt so good. The only thing keeping her
anchored was her hands on the headboard. He alternated between her
breasts, suckling her with increasing intensity and she arched,
desperate to get closer to him. Her knuckles were white with the
effort to keep from reaching for him.

She didn’t know if it was possible to orgasm
just from having his mouth on her breasts, but God she was close.
Her sex was wet and swollen, slick with her arousal and her clit
ached for attention. She moved her hips, desperate for release. If
he’d just touch her, God, there, almost.

When he released her nipple, damp and
straining from his mouth, she bit her lip to keep from groaning at
the loss of the hot, wet, delicious pressure. Disappointment
morphed into aching anticipation as Trace laid a trail of kisses
between her breasts and across her stomach. His lips followed the
line of lace at the waistband of her panties and she thrust her
hips up to meet him, needing him to touch her. Needing him to
relieve the torturous ache winding tighter and tighter deep
inside.

His chuckle rumbled against her skin and then
his tongue dipped below the lace. She clutched at the headboard,
twisting and writhing, desperate to have him move lower.

As if sensing what she needed, he scraped his
teeth over the silk. He bit her sex, gently but with enough
pressure to make her hips buck and his name fall in a steady stream
from her lips. With teasing, torturous strokes he licked her sex
through her panties using the wide flat pressure of his tongue to
push against her throbbing clit.

She let go of the headboard, desperate to
grab his head and direct him where she needed him. To rip off the
pink silk and bare herself to him. He knew the second her hand left
the rail and he pulled back, leaving the wet silk cool against her
heated flesh.

“Put your hands back, Bailey.” The command in
his voice had something tightening low in her belly. “I’ll keep
going, but only if you keep your hands over your head.”

She gripped the headboard, desperate to touch
him but more desperate to have him touch her.

“Good girl.” Using his strong hands, he tore
the scrap of silk from her body and ran a thick finger along the
slick seam of her sex. “God, you’re so fucking wet,” he said, his
shaky breath giving away some of what his control was costing
him.

She raised her hips, trying to nudge his
finger toward her opening, needing something to fill the aching
emptiness inside her. He settled himself between her legs, his face
inches from her mound. With firm demanding hands, he pressed her
knees up and out, opening her to his hungry gaze. Sliding his
thumbs through her slick heat, he spread her outer lips, exposing
her throbbing clit. He licked a path from her opening to her clit
and back again until her hips thrust on their own, working to get
closer to the heat of his mouth.

She whimpered in frustration, close but not
quite there. Trace groaned low in his throat and the vibration
rumbled across her sensitive sex. With a hungry growl, he wrapped
his lips around her clit, drawing her flesh into his mouth. Sucking
the tight bundle of nerves the way he’d suckled her nipples.

“Fuck. God. Yes.” She cried out as the first
wave of her orgasm whipped through her body.

Never slacking from the pressure on her clit,
Trace slid two thick fingers inside her and stroked, curving to
draw out the climax which continued to wrack her body.

It was too much. She couldn’t stand it. Her
body thrashed with pleasure which bordered on pain. Her hands
clutching the headboard were the only thing keeping her from
shattering into a million pieces and flying off into space. When
she was sure she couldn’t take anymore, Trace pulled away, climbed
off the bed and stripped off his jeans.

His cock stood out, hard and magnificent, and
her mouth watered at the thought of him filling her, stretching
her, making her come. She chewed on her lips and spread her legs in
invitation, smiling when his chest shook with the effort of drawing
a breath.

She wasn’t the only one coming apart. She
could see how much it cost him to hold back. She raised her knees,
opening herself to him, and watched in anticipation as he slid a
condom down his long, hard length.

He knelt between her legs and palmed her ass,
lifting her hips so he could slide into her in one smooth stroke.
The breath left her body in a whoosh and they both froze, paralyzed
by the sweet aching fullness of their bodies finally melding
together. She let go of the headboard and reached for him, grabbing
his forearms, feeling the bunch of his muscles under her hands as
he held himself still inside her.

And then he started to move and her world
came apart in a shattering orgasm which stole her breath. Her body
convulsed around him and his thrusts became erratic as his climax
caught hers. Covering her body with his, he cupped her head and
held her to his chest as he moved inside her. She felt safe,
protected, precious. And loved.

She should say it. She felt it, and she
wanted to tell him that she loved him. But when she opened her
mouth she couldn’t do it. She heard Rachel’s voice instead of her
own, making her promise she wouldn’t say it first.

Trace looked down at her, the aftershocks of
their lovemaking still rolling through them. His eyes were soft and
tender, full of what she was sure was love. She waited, praying he
would tell her he loved her so she could say it back. Holding her
feelings in when she felt them so strongly was almost painful. He
gazed down at her and she waited, sure he was about to speak. He
opened his mouth, but instead of telling her he loved her, he
pressed a kiss to her forehead and rolled off of her.

Trace snuck out of Bailey’s bed before dawn
the next morning. He had to be down the mountain in time to get the
interns moving in the right direction, but God, he hated leaving
her when she was so soft and pliant with sleep. Making love to
Bailey in the morning had become one of his favorite things to do.
Second only to making love to Bailey in the evening. Or the
afternoon. Or any way he could get her.

Last night had been amazing, holding her in
place with his voice and her hands while he made her come over and
over. He was getting hard again just thinking about it. He’d find
some time to slip into town to buy some silk ribbons so that next
time he could bind her. There were so many things he wanted to do
with Bailey. Her response was so open and honest and he loved
giving her pleasure.

In the end, when they’d been face to face,
spent and vulnerable, their bodies still joined, he’d almost told
her he loved her. Looking into her eyes as she lay underneath him
wrapped in the shelter of his arms, his emotions overwhelmed him
and it was all he could do to keep from telling her how he
felt.

And she felt it, too. He knew she did. He saw
it in her eyes, felt it in her touch. The fact that she didn’t feel
comfortable saying it embarrassed him and made him ashamed. He’d
taught her to act like that. Bailey loved with abandon the way she
did everything else in her life. He was the one who’d shown her how
to hide her feelings. How pathetic was that?

He took the last switchback, his hands tight
on the steering wheel and gritted his teeth as the truck made a
grinding sound as it downshifted. So he’d been hurt, who hadn’t?
And maybe his parents’ divorce had fucked him up. That didn’t mean
he had to live their story. If it was just him, he might not have
been able to break out of his old patterns, but it wasn’t just him
anymore. His actions affected Bailey. And Bailey didn’t hide from
love.

She wasn’t guarded or careful. He’d seen her
parents together and watched her with her brothers and sisters.
She’d grown up in a house full of love. She expected it because it
was what she knew. At least it had been until he’d come along and
let his emotionally constipated self rub off on her.

It had to stop. He had to stop it. Love was
supposed to make a person stronger, better, more of themselves. His
love had the exact opposite effect on Bailey and he couldn’t stand
it anymore. He wanted his love to lift her up, not tear her
down.

Enough.
He was done living small and
he’d be damned if he’d drag the woman he loved down with him. He
loved Bailey and tonight he was going to tell her. He’d make sure
she had no doubt of how much he loved her.

Ignoring the rumbling noise of his ancient
truck, he made the turn down the drive to his farm. He’d get the
interns started on the new vegetable beds and then he’d head into
town. He had some shopping to do and an international phone call to
make.

Bailey heard the door open and looked up in
time to see Spencer coming into the restaurant with a twelve year
old on his arm. They’d been so slow, just a few couples for dinner
and Deputy Simmons and his mother celebrating her birthday. Bailey
had slipped out of the kitchen to snag a glass of ice water and the
tiny blue candles she kept for Jen’s birthday cupcakes when Spencer
came in with his – God, could it be a date?

Okay, so the girl wasn’t twelve. She was
likely a student he’d met doing his research, but he had to be at
least a decade and a half older than her.