Wild Kisses (Wildwood 2)

She reached up and stroked his face, and that familiar softness warmed her eyes again. “I like the sound of that, you and me, together.”

Trace’s heart turned warm and gooey, and emotions rushed to the surface. Emotions and the fears that tagged along with them. For now, he pushed them away and reveled in the way this woman turned him inside out.

FOURTEEN

Avery floated to consciousness with light pressing against her eyelids. She was warm and comfortable and happy. Trace’s muscular legs were still tangled with hers, his front side curved around her backside, his strong arm pinned across her waist, holding her against him.

She forced her eyes open and looked for the clock she’d positioned on the windowsill since she couldn’t afford nightstands yet.

“It’s only six.” Trace’s voice startled her. She twisted to look over her shoulder and found him propped up by his elbow, hair tousled, eyes bright, a grin tilting his mouth.

“Hey. You look like you’ve been up awhile.” She relaxed into the pillow again and frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Watching you sleep.” His grin grew. “You talk in your sleep—you know that, right?”

“I do not.”

He laughed. “Yeah, you do.”

She turned a little more and rubbed his erection tucked against her ass. “I’m not sure I like that. What did I say?”

His hand slid back and forth over her stomach, and his hips rocked restlessly against hers, creating a familiar heat between her legs. “I don’t know. I was a little distracted.”

She wrapped her arm up and around his neck, pulling him down for a good-morning kiss. Their tongues lazily stroked, and Trace sucked at her lips, then growled a moan and pressed his face to her neck. “Warning: if you don’t get up now, you won’t be getting up for a while.”

She pushed her hips back and into his erection and murmured against his temple, “I’m good with that.”

His mouth opened against her neck with a groan of pleasure and relief. “Baby, you are such a dream.”

The hand at her stomach slid up her body, between her breasts, and cupped her chin as he took the kiss deeper.

A heavy knock at the front door downstairs jerked both of them out of the bliss. They stared at each other for a second, as if each was wondering whether they’d really heard that.

“What?”

/> The knock came again, louder, followed by the deep, serious voice of someone calling Avery’s name. Alarm snaked down her spine, and Avery sat up, looking around the floor for clothes. “Shit.”

“Who in the hell is that?” Trace swung his feet off the bed and pulled on his jeans.

“I don’t know,” she said, frustrated as she followed Trace’s lead. “But I’m sick of one fire after another around here. I’d like one full night of relaxation for a damn change.”

He yanked his shirt over his head and grinned at her. “Then you’d better stop hanging around me, sugar. I have no intention of letting you relax.”

“Your brand of relaxation I’ll take any night of the week.” She ran her hands through her hair and dragged on the jeans and the T-shirt she’d had on last night before she headed downstairs in bare feet.

“I’m coming, for God’s—” She hit the bottom of the stairs and looked toward the door. Through the glass all she saw was blue. A mass of navy-blue uniforms. Cops. Four of them, standing on her porch.

Trace almost stumbled over her and caught her around the waist, managing to keep both of them from hitting the floor. “Baby, what—?”

Rap, rap, rap. “Open the door, Avery.”

Deputy Tom Potter, a man in his late fifties who’d been a family friend for years, was surrounded by three other deputies Avery didn’t know.

Fury and embarrassment flared in a hot streak through her chest, and she started toward the door. “Austin, that piece of—”

“Avery.” Trace’s direct tone grated on her already raw nerves, and she spun on him. His gaze had hardened into an expression she’d never seen before. “This is bigger than Austin.”

Rap, rap, rap. “Avery.”