I must look frantic because Keeley pops out of one of the bedrooms and heads directly for us. “You okay, Trace?”
I debate. I don’t want to sound rude or announce that we need privacy right now, but I can’t let this opportunity go.
Masey saves me. “We need to be alone. Is there anywhere…”
Maxon’s wife tucks a red curl behind one ear and motions my way. “Um…follow me.”
Thank God.
She bustles into the kitchen, and we follow as she snatches a key off the wall, then continues out back.
The moon is rising as she guides us out by the pool. Between the shimmering water hugged by natural stone and a gorgeous waterfall on one side and the Pacific on the other stands a solitary structure.
At the simple white door, she turns and presses the key into my hand. “We’ve been renovating this pool cabana and making it a cozy cottage for two. We’re not scheduled to open it until next month, but I think we have enough of the pieces in place to make it enjoyable. You can let me know when you’re ready whether it’s romantic or not.”
“Thank you.” I grab her hand. “Really. I owe you.”
“No, you don’t. I’ll run interference if anyone is looking for you.” Then with a wink, she’s gone.
“Hurry.” Masey turns and presses herself against me, kissing her way up my neck as I fumble the key into the lock.
Finally, it gives way, but I already feel like I’m shuddering and on fire. I’m dying to get inside this woman and stay forever.
I shove the door open, then flip on the nearby light switch. Fairy lights strung across the gorgeous koa-beamed ceiling illuminate the white canopy bed with padded headboard and pale quilts on a comfortable rug. On one side, a floor-to-ceiling window shows off the jewel of the ocean. On the other, there’s a coffeemaker, snacks, a bistro table, and a clawfoot tub for two.
All I care about is Masey.
“Wow,” she says as she meanders across the room and strokes the soft bedding. “It’s beautiful.”
“No, you are. Come here.”
She turns to face me. My heart races as she slowly approaches, her stare never leaving mine. “Trace…”
Finally, she’s close enough for me to touch, and I wrap an arm around her, bring her against me, and close my eyes, reveling in the feel of her pressed to me.
This can’t be one of the last times I hold her.
“Please stop trying to resist. Just let this happen.” I take her face. “Let us happen.”
“I’m afraid.”
“I know. I’m fucking scared to death, too. I didn’t expect this.”
“I didn’t want it. I wasn’t ready.”
Damn it. My grip tightens. “Don’t say that, honey.”
“But—”
“I don’t know if we’re ever ready. I wasn’t. But I’m done fighting it.”
She wraps her fingers around my wrists, clinging to me with both her eyes and her touch. “I don’t think I can anymore.”
“It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. But I need to tell you something.” I press my forehead to hers. “I love you.”
Chapter Twelve
Masey seems to stop breathing. She blinks at me, staring, searching. Unmoving.
My heart pounds. Is she going to run? Stay? Or is there any chance she’ll say those three words back to me?
Finally, Masey swallows. “Oh, god. Trace…”
That’s all she has to say? When it comes to love, why am I always on the losing side of the equation? “You can’t be that surprised.”
“I am. I’ve been awful. I-I had my best friend arrange for you to sleep with me. I cringe just thinking about that. And now that I know what your relationships have been like—”
“You mean my non-relationships?”
“How are you not mad at me for…using you? I can’t think of another word, and that wasn’t my intention but—”
I cut her off with a kiss, catching her mid-breath. Suddenly, she’s silent under me. Stiff. I feel her worry.
When I brush my lips over hers again, she slowly goes pliant and slides her arms around me, rising on her tiptoes to meet me pucker for pucker.
Finally, she relaxes and sighs into my kiss. Slowly, I force myself to pull back. Keeley put us in a room with a bed, and I’d love to take advantage of it, but we don’t need the distraction of sex now. It’s tempting, but I have to know for sure that, unlike every other woman in my life, she wants me, even without it.
“Okay, so you’re not mad.”
“I’m not,” I assure her. “How can I be? You didn’t know my past, and we