Read Online My Heart's Beat (Hard Love & Dark Rock #2) by Ashley Grace - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ashley Grace
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than the suite where the party was going on, but the design—the wallpapers and curtains and bedspread and carpet—were all the same. Except for a single suitcase against the wall opposite the bed, it didn't look like anybody had been in there since the maid had prepared the room.
The bed alone was huge, probably close to half the size of the dorm room that Becca and I shared. Trace carried me to it, and set me down on the edge. He started to straighten up again, but I slipped my hands into the hair at the back of his head, pulling his mouth down to mine.
We kissed again, my heart beating so hard I felt breathless. I was in his private room, on his bed. Just me and Trace, alone.
His hands cradled the sides of my face. His lips moved on mine. I hooked my heels around his ankles, holding him between my legs. My heart was starting to race.
He sucked my lower lip between his teeth, nipped it gently.
And then he straightened up and stepped back. I nearly cried out in protest.
"Let me get something for your knees," he said. "I'll be right back."
He disappeared into the bathroom. He was only gone for a second, but waiting for him made me feel almost crazy.
When he came back he carried a wet facecloth and a towel in one hand, and a little first-aid kit in the other. He kneeled in front of me, gently touching the wet cloth to my bleeding knee. My dress was so short that he could probably see right up it, and the thought made me feel both embarrassed and turned on.
A visual from earlier that night appeared in my mind's eye: his head between my thighs, his mouth and his tongue on me—on my pussy. A rush of desire tingled between my legs at the memory, and I caught my lip between my teeth, and pulled in a gasping breath.
"Sorry," Trace said, looking up at me. He lifted the cloth from my knee. "Does that sting?"
I shook my head "no."
He cleaned the other knee, and then dabbed at them both with an alcohol swab. He tore open a band-aid for each scrape, and pressed them over the wounds.
And then he ran his warm hands up and down my legs, his palms gliding from my shins up over the tops of my thighs, making desire glow in my belly.
"The scrapes aren't bad," he said, his head still bowed, his eyes drinking me in. "But it's still sort of upsetting. You've got such gorgeous legs."
Finally, he looked up at me.
"You're beautiful, Anne," he said. "You're so beautiful that it almost hurts me, makes me want you so much that I ache."
The look in his eyes—dark and deep, full of a longing that almost bordered on sadness—it nearly took my breath away. I'd never had anyone look at me like that before. It made me feel… sacred.
I raised my hands to either side of his face, cradling his jaw in my palms, feeling the prickle of his stubble against my sensitive skin. I lowered my face to his, and kissed him again.
At first the kiss was almost chaste, his full lips pressing against mine gently, a sense of love blooming in my heart. I closed my eyes and pulled in a long breath through my nose, drawing in the scent of him. For a moment, Trace became everything I sensed, everything I smelled and tasted and felt. It was like I was falling into him, sinking into Trace's presence like lowering myself into a warm bath.
But as the warmth and soft joy flowed through me, a hotter desire began to build in me as well, chasing on the heels of that first, gentler emotion.
Trace moved his mouth on mine, his lips pressing more forcefully, his jaw moving. And the harder he kissed me, the more I wanted. I met his growing passion with my own, kissing him so hard that it hurt me a little, bruising my lips. And still I wanted more.
His hands slid up my thighs, slowly but surely, pushing the short dress up. I shifted my weight, and he pushed the dress past my hips. He caught hold of me there, squeezing my soft flesh, and moaned a hungry moan into my mouth.
His hands continued their ascent,
The bed alone was huge, probably close to half the size of the dorm room that Becca and I shared. Trace carried me to it, and set me down on the edge. He started to straighten up again, but I slipped my hands into the hair at the back of his head, pulling his mouth down to mine.
We kissed again, my heart beating so hard I felt breathless. I was in his private room, on his bed. Just me and Trace, alone.
His hands cradled the sides of my face. His lips moved on mine. I hooked my heels around his ankles, holding him between my legs. My heart was starting to race.
He sucked my lower lip between his teeth, nipped it gently.
And then he straightened up and stepped back. I nearly cried out in protest.
"Let me get something for your knees," he said. "I'll be right back."
He disappeared into the bathroom. He was only gone for a second, but waiting for him made me feel almost crazy.
When he came back he carried a wet facecloth and a towel in one hand, and a little first-aid kit in the other. He kneeled in front of me, gently touching the wet cloth to my bleeding knee. My dress was so short that he could probably see right up it, and the thought made me feel both embarrassed and turned on.
A visual from earlier that night appeared in my mind's eye: his head between my thighs, his mouth and his tongue on me—on my pussy. A rush of desire tingled between my legs at the memory, and I caught my lip between my teeth, and pulled in a gasping breath.
"Sorry," Trace said, looking up at me. He lifted the cloth from my knee. "Does that sting?"
I shook my head "no."
He cleaned the other knee, and then dabbed at them both with an alcohol swab. He tore open a band-aid for each scrape, and pressed them over the wounds.
And then he ran his warm hands up and down my legs, his palms gliding from my shins up over the tops of my thighs, making desire glow in my belly.
"The scrapes aren't bad," he said, his head still bowed, his eyes drinking me in. "But it's still sort of upsetting. You've got such gorgeous legs."
Finally, he looked up at me.
"You're beautiful, Anne," he said. "You're so beautiful that it almost hurts me, makes me want you so much that I ache."
The look in his eyes—dark and deep, full of a longing that almost bordered on sadness—it nearly took my breath away. I'd never had anyone look at me like that before. It made me feel… sacred.
I raised my hands to either side of his face, cradling his jaw in my palms, feeling the prickle of his stubble against my sensitive skin. I lowered my face to his, and kissed him again.
At first the kiss was almost chaste, his full lips pressing against mine gently, a sense of love blooming in my heart. I closed my eyes and pulled in a long breath through my nose, drawing in the scent of him. For a moment, Trace became everything I sensed, everything I smelled and tasted and felt. It was like I was falling into him, sinking into Trace's presence like lowering myself into a warm bath.
But as the warmth and soft joy flowed through me, a hotter desire began to build in me as well, chasing on the heels of that first, gentler emotion.
Trace moved his mouth on mine, his lips pressing more forcefully, his jaw moving. And the harder he kissed me, the more I wanted. I met his growing passion with my own, kissing him so hard that it hurt me a little, bruising my lips. And still I wanted more.
His hands slid up my thighs, slowly but surely, pushing the short dress up. I shifted my weight, and he pushed the dress past my hips. He caught hold of me there, squeezing my soft flesh, and moaned a hungry moan into my mouth.
His hands continued their ascent,
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