Trace of Fever
Page 112
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Friends. Thanks to Trace, she had them now. “Will you invite Trace’s sister so I can meet her?”
“She’d skin me if I didn’t,” Chris told her.
“And Jackson?” Priss asked.
“Why not?” Trace gave her a teasing smooch, and then said in a lower voice meant just for Priss, “I might as well see the two of them together so I can gauge the situation myself.”
He was so wonderful that Priss felt giddy. “When I took self-defense training, when I spent so many nights thinking of how I’d confront Murray, what I’d accomplish, never—not once—did I figure on meeting someone like you.”
“Someone you love.”
“Yes.”
He waited until Chris and Matt had gotten far enough way. “Do you really think you can redirect all that awesome energy now that Murray is gone?”
“To love you? To be this happy?” She leaned into him for a kiss. “Absolutely.”
Eyes blazing, Trace lifted her up and headed deeper into the water. His jeans dragged and his shirt stuck to his body.
Confused, Priss asked, “What are you doing?”
He moved under the dock, behind the ladder. Voice deeper now, he said, “Making love in the water.”
She gasped. “In daylight?”
“They like to tease, and God knows they can be annoying—especially Matt—but I promise you that no one will be watching.” He pressed her up against the ladder. “And now that you’ve agreed to marry me, I need you.”
Priss looked at the wooden boards over her head, allowing only thin strips of sunshine through. The air was warm, the water cold. She felt Trace’s jean-covered legs against hers, his hands slipping into the back of her bathing suit bottoms.
And she saw the love in his eyes.
“Okay, then.” After a lifetime of anticipating Murray’s death, she feared she’d lose herself to the need for vengeance. Instead, she’d gained so much more. “Another first for me, and thanks to you, they just keep getting better and better.”
“For the rest of our lives.”
Now, with Trace, that idea held promise and contentment. Her mother had never found peace, but Priss had. She only wished everyone could find the same happiness.
EPILOGUE
JACKSON STOOD QUIETLY as Alani came into the house. Unlike the other women, she didn’t wear a swimsuit. Shame. He’d love to see her in one. Everyone had duly celebrated Trace’s engagement, and Alani seemed taken with Priss—but then, who wouldn’t be? Priss was funny, smart, cute and—luckily for Trace—stacked.
Unaware of Jackson, Alani stopped to look out the patio doors. She looked…wistful. Like maybe she wanted to take part, but couldn’t.
In so many ways, despite being kidnapped by flesh peddlers, or maybe because of that, she was still an innocent. At just-barely twenty-three, she acted much older.
Like a virgin spinster.
Every night, in his dreams, they burned up the sheets.
Here, in reality, she avoided him. She avoided involvement.
But he’d get her over that. Somehow.
Suddenly Priss came in, wet hair sleek down her back, rivulets of water trailing between her br**sts. She spotted Jackson right off and, after smiling at Alani, asked them both, “Why aren’t you guys coming down to swim?”
Alani jerked around to stare at Jackson with big eyes.
His crooked smile told her that he had her in his sights. “I was just about to ask Alani that.”
Priss laughed. “You’re still dressed.”
“I can undress fast enough.” He looked at Alani. “What about you?”
Her lips parted. “No, I…didn’t bring a suit.”
“Pity. Maybe we could move up to the cove and skinny-dip in private?”
Pointing a finger at him, Priss said, “Behave, you reprobate!” And then to Alani, “Beware of that one.”
Still watching him, Alani nodded.
Priss put her hands on her hips and considered the situation. “Molly might have a spare swimsuit. I’d offer to let you borrow one from me, but this is the only one I have.”
“It looks great on you, too,” Jackson told her.
“Ha. Trace doesn’t like it.”
“Because you look naked,” Jackson told her.
Priss went three shades of red. Her eyes narrowed. “Ever mention that again, and I’ll throw you in the lake and drown you.”
He pretended to button his lips, but he couldn’t stop grinning at her.
Not being a dummy, Priss looked at them both, shook her head, and said, “Well, I’m heading back down. I’ll tell the others that you’ll be joining us soon.” With a careless wave, she ducked back out the door.
Jackson moved closer to Alani. She backed up.
So he stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“Why did Priss blush?” Her brows came down. “What’s going on between you two?”
“Nothing.” He didn’t appreciate her subtle accusation. “You think I’d disrespect your brother’s claim?”
“His claim?”
“Now, don’t go getting all riled. You know what I mean.” Jackson tried to dig himself out of a quickly yawning hole. “He and Priss are together. I get that. I wouldn’t do anything inappropriate with her. Not that she’d be willing anyway—”
“So you did try?”
“No!”
“She’d skin me if I didn’t,” Chris told her.
“And Jackson?” Priss asked.
“Why not?” Trace gave her a teasing smooch, and then said in a lower voice meant just for Priss, “I might as well see the two of them together so I can gauge the situation myself.”
He was so wonderful that Priss felt giddy. “When I took self-defense training, when I spent so many nights thinking of how I’d confront Murray, what I’d accomplish, never—not once—did I figure on meeting someone like you.”
“Someone you love.”
“Yes.”
He waited until Chris and Matt had gotten far enough way. “Do you really think you can redirect all that awesome energy now that Murray is gone?”
“To love you? To be this happy?” She leaned into him for a kiss. “Absolutely.”
Eyes blazing, Trace lifted her up and headed deeper into the water. His jeans dragged and his shirt stuck to his body.
Confused, Priss asked, “What are you doing?”
He moved under the dock, behind the ladder. Voice deeper now, he said, “Making love in the water.”
She gasped. “In daylight?”
“They like to tease, and God knows they can be annoying—especially Matt—but I promise you that no one will be watching.” He pressed her up against the ladder. “And now that you’ve agreed to marry me, I need you.”
Priss looked at the wooden boards over her head, allowing only thin strips of sunshine through. The air was warm, the water cold. She felt Trace’s jean-covered legs against hers, his hands slipping into the back of her bathing suit bottoms.
And she saw the love in his eyes.
“Okay, then.” After a lifetime of anticipating Murray’s death, she feared she’d lose herself to the need for vengeance. Instead, she’d gained so much more. “Another first for me, and thanks to you, they just keep getting better and better.”
“For the rest of our lives.”
Now, with Trace, that idea held promise and contentment. Her mother had never found peace, but Priss had. She only wished everyone could find the same happiness.
EPILOGUE
JACKSON STOOD QUIETLY as Alani came into the house. Unlike the other women, she didn’t wear a swimsuit. Shame. He’d love to see her in one. Everyone had duly celebrated Trace’s engagement, and Alani seemed taken with Priss—but then, who wouldn’t be? Priss was funny, smart, cute and—luckily for Trace—stacked.
Unaware of Jackson, Alani stopped to look out the patio doors. She looked…wistful. Like maybe she wanted to take part, but couldn’t.
In so many ways, despite being kidnapped by flesh peddlers, or maybe because of that, she was still an innocent. At just-barely twenty-three, she acted much older.
Like a virgin spinster.
Every night, in his dreams, they burned up the sheets.
Here, in reality, she avoided him. She avoided involvement.
But he’d get her over that. Somehow.
Suddenly Priss came in, wet hair sleek down her back, rivulets of water trailing between her br**sts. She spotted Jackson right off and, after smiling at Alani, asked them both, “Why aren’t you guys coming down to swim?”
Alani jerked around to stare at Jackson with big eyes.
His crooked smile told her that he had her in his sights. “I was just about to ask Alani that.”
Priss laughed. “You’re still dressed.”
“I can undress fast enough.” He looked at Alani. “What about you?”
Her lips parted. “No, I…didn’t bring a suit.”
“Pity. Maybe we could move up to the cove and skinny-dip in private?”
Pointing a finger at him, Priss said, “Behave, you reprobate!” And then to Alani, “Beware of that one.”
Still watching him, Alani nodded.
Priss put her hands on her hips and considered the situation. “Molly might have a spare swimsuit. I’d offer to let you borrow one from me, but this is the only one I have.”
“It looks great on you, too,” Jackson told her.
“Ha. Trace doesn’t like it.”
“Because you look naked,” Jackson told her.
Priss went three shades of red. Her eyes narrowed. “Ever mention that again, and I’ll throw you in the lake and drown you.”
He pretended to button his lips, but he couldn’t stop grinning at her.
Not being a dummy, Priss looked at them both, shook her head, and said, “Well, I’m heading back down. I’ll tell the others that you’ll be joining us soon.” With a careless wave, she ducked back out the door.
Jackson moved closer to Alani. She backed up.
So he stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“Why did Priss blush?” Her brows came down. “What’s going on between you two?”
“Nothing.” He didn’t appreciate her subtle accusation. “You think I’d disrespect your brother’s claim?”
“His claim?”
“Now, don’t go getting all riled. You know what I mean.” Jackson tried to dig himself out of a quickly yawning hole. “He and Priss are together. I get that. I wouldn’t do anything inappropriate with her. Not that she’d be willing anyway—”
“So you did try?”
“No!”
