Too Wild to Tame Page 21

  But Aaron had a lot of experience with avoidance. Tonight might be the biggest test of his skill set, but he needed the memory of Grace, too. Needed it to be untouched by his dread over the upcoming good-bye. Now, as he helped Grace out of the Suburban, Aaron drew on every ounce of his capabilities, pushing aside anger in favor of memorizing Grace’s curves as they slid over his body.

  Grace tugged gloves out of her coat pockets and put them on, her breath puffing into the air. “Where are we?”

  “Good,” Aaron said, relief easing the tightness in his neck. “You don’t know it. I wasn’t sure, since you grew up here.”

  She looked around the flat courtyard, still white from the snow they’d received. Up ahead lay an old barn, lit up from the inside with a soft glow, music flowing out through the open windows. “I think I’ve been to this place, but never during winter. What is it?”

  Aaron took her gloved hand, marveling over how easy the action felt, even though he’d never held a woman’s hand before. “I believe the technical term used was jamboree.” He blew warm air into their joined grip. “I asked some of the local guys where they were bringing their girlfriends tonight. And then I did the exact opposite.” Their footsteps crunched in the hardened snow. “I hope that’s okay. I really didn’t feel like talking to anyone but you.”

  Grace ducked her head, but not before Aaron caught her smile. “That’s better than okay.”

  Already, Aaron could tell he’d underestimated his ability to withstand Grace’s blushes and smiles and breathy responses. It took a superhero level of willpower not to throw her over his shoulder and lock them in a room together somewhere. Mine tonight. Don’t want to share. “So, I…” He sucked in a fortifying breath. “I asked Sylvia, the older woman who donated lunch, where I should take you.”

  “You did?” She laughed into the sleeve of his jacket. “I wish I could have heard that conversation.”

  “No. You really don’t.” He shook his head, remembering the way Sylvia had asked if he was planning to propose. “My mother was a chef. I think maybe that’s the only reason I—”

  “Felt comfortable talking to Sylvia?” Grace stopped and faced him. “I didn’t know that about your mom. The little things you’ve told me…she sounds like someone who would be easy to miss.”

  Aaron really wanted to keep walking and dismiss the uncomfortable topic, but Grace’s expression was so earnest, he didn’t want to let her own. And hell, talking about his mother couldn’t be any worse than not talking about her. “She left us this journal,” he heard himself say. “I have it. It’s in my suitcase and I can’t even read it.”

  “Why not?” Grace murmured, stepping forward to lay her head on his chest.

  He stared toward the barn, noticing the lit-up trees for the first time, extending from the barn’s far side, down through a grove of glowing trees. The Winter Walk. The reason he’d brought Grace there tonight. “I’m afraid to read what she said about me,” he finally answered, his voice distant. “I don’t want to confirm what I already know.”

  It was the kind of confession he would have regretted if Grace had gasped or chided him for being ridiculous. But she didn’t. She merely slipped a hand up beneath his sweater, gliding it around to his back, leaving a warm path in its wake. “You’re not so difficult to see, Aaron. Your greatness isn’t so hidden your mother wouldn’t recognize it.”

  He melted toward Grace, dropping his chin onto her head, wishing rather futilely that her touch could go farther down than his skin. “I don’t know. I think you want me to be good so much, I’m doing it involuntarily.”

  She pressed a kiss to his throat and he felt the smile transforming her lips. “I’m not so powerful.”

  “Ah, Grace. You’re the most powerful person I know.” He sank both hands into her hair, lifting the fistful of strands to his nose and inhaling. “I need to kiss the fucking breath out of you, but if I get started, there will be no cider drinking. Definitely no Winter Walk. Sylvia will be very disappointed in me.”

  She went up on her toes to bring their mouths together, puffs of hot air clouding the area between them. “I’ll kiss you extra later.”

  That familiar right hook of need caught him low in the stomach, tightening his muscles. “You’re the one who’ll be getting kissed.” He snagged her upper lip, sucking it into his mouth. “Tell me where I’m going to put the kisses.”

  “Um.”

  Goddamn it. No going back now that he was started. As long as he avoided putting his tongue in her addictive mouth, he might be able to go through with the date. But Christ, he needed a dose of Grace’s body up against his own. Just a reminder to his starving body he would give it relief later. Aaron’s hands dropped to the smooth mounds of Grace’s ass, lifting until she wrapped her legs around his waist, fitting her pussy against his bulge. “Um is not an answer,” he rasped.

  Her green eyes took on a mesmerizing glean as she gave a long, unhurried roll of her hips. “There. You’ll kiss me there.”

  Aaron shoved his forehead into the crook of her neck. “That’s right. Jesus.”

  “You asked,” she breathed, warming the back of his neck. “I love when you ask those kinds of questions.”

  “Do I ask them often?”

  Even though he couldn’t see her face, Aaron could feel shyness descend, hear it in the quiet, breathy quality of her tone. “Yes, when we’re…touching.” When she swallowed, he felt it against his lips. “Like it skin on skin, don’t you? You’ve got a triple threat between your thighs, don’t—”

  “Stop it, Grace,” he ground out, reeling under the unexpected impact of having his words from the night before repeated back. Against his mental will, his hands were jerking her ass closer, grinding her sex against his cock. “Actually—fuck, I must want to be tortured—but I’ve been meaning to ask you something else.”

  Her fingertips slipped through his hair, nails creating exhilarating trails along his scalp. “What is it?”

  Can I fuck you, right here, standing up? Wrong question. But a valid one. “Why are you bare between your legs?”

  She lifted her head, zeroing in on his eyes. “Do you like it?”

  “I like breakfast. I like John Wayne movies.” He licked the cleft in her upper lip. “I want to build a fucking shrine to your pussy. There’s a big difference.”

  Grace’s smile turned a wrench in his chest. “The day I stole the money…the woman who came over to cut and clean my hair…she asked me if I wanted anything waxed. And, I don’t know, I thought I would give it a whirl.” Her gaze fell to his mouth and shot back up. “Maybe in the back of my mind, I thought the kind of women you like would have it done. Was I…right?”

  Because he could see the answer mattered, he trapped the humorless laugh in his throat, where it joined the nonstop ache. But nothing would keep the truth suppressed. Not with their bodies interlocked, breathing in time with each other, surrounded by cool nighttime air. “You think I have the ability to look at you and remember anyone from before? Before Grace?” Her mouth parted, cheeks warming with color. Wow. He was a total bastard. How could he say that kind of thing to her, knowing he would be leaving? “Did it hurt?”

  Grace stared back at him blankly until he tilted his hips, reminding her of their conversation. “Oh, the waxing.” She nodded. “Like a motherfucker.”

  Aaron’s bark of laughter echoed off the packed snow, the towering trees. “I guess I have a love-hate relationship with this hairdresser I’ve never met, huh?” His lips lingered against Grace’s cheek. “She ruined your beautiful hair, but she made your pussy nothing but slippery for me.”

  “My hair’s not ruined,” she whispered, a slight tremor in her delivery. “It’s back to normal now.”

  His mouth twitched at Grace using the word normal to describe her hair. “I need to get you inside this barn soon, Grace.” He turned and trudged toward the big structure, Grace’s legs still wrapped tight around him. “I can’t decide anymore if I want to pin you down and j
ust talk to you…or fuck you. Or, Christ, do both at the same time. I’m not even sure if that’s something people do.”

  “It can be something we do,” she whispered, her words dropping like shiny pearls between them. “You just have to want it.”

  His stomach lurched. “I wish wanting something was enough, baby.” Sensing Grace’s curiosity, he forced himself to smile. “Let’s go get our jamboree on. Whatever the hell a jamboree is.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  There was always something fascinating happening behind Aaron’s movie star mask. Always. But she’d never sensed resignation in him. Never seen the relentless wheels behind his eyes stall and spin in the dirt, as they appeared to be doing now. I wish wanting something was enough, baby. Until he’d said those words, Grace would have sworn nothing could make her wish the date were over before it started. So she could be one-on-one with Aaron, warm flesh pressing together, listening to his ragged breaths, hearing his groaned truths in her ear. That was when his walls officially came down. She knew that now. And while tonight he was treating her like some long-lost princess who deserved the date of her life, she only wanted the experience with Aaron totally present.

  Grace curled her fingers in the neckline of Aaron’s shirt, ready to tug the material for his attention, but he released her. She slid down his body a split second before they were bathed in warm, yellow light. Above her head, Aaron’s hand pushed open the barn door,¸ violin music coiling in the air around Grace, forcing her to turn around.

  Her lungs imprisoned the breath she tried to draw. How? How had she lived mere miles from this place and never known of its existence? Strings of twinkling white lights were strung from the rafters, swaying in the breeze they’d generated by opening the door. The scents of pine and cinnamon beckoned her into the warm interior, her feet moving involuntarily. People were everywhere. Locals, obviously, wearing their familiarity with one another like snuggly sweaters. Hands were being shaken. Hugs given. Pieces of pie being passed around. Oh, and there was dancing. The music’s tempo had picked up at their entrance, almost on cue, drawing couples to the makeshift dance floor, where fathers spun around their daughters, the older guests regarding them fondly. On the opposite side of the barn, women handed out desserts, granting huge dollops of whipped cream and ladling cider.

  A few people sent curious glances in Grace and Aaron’s direction, but their expressions couldn’t have been more welcoming. And when Grace’s attention landed on an older woman in an Iowans Do It in the Field apron, she knew it was Sylvia. Especially when the woman dropped the stack of Styrofoam plates in her hand, face breaking into a smile when she saw Aaron.

  “You brought her!” Aaron bent down so the petite woman could throw her arms around his neck. “I was half worried you might cave to the peer pressure and take her out for…I don’t know…beer.” She gave ladylike gag. “Well, let me see her.”

  Aaron settled an arm around Grace’s shoulders, pulling her into his side, and Grace tucked the sensation of belonging to someone away for a rainy day. “Sylvia.” He paused, looking down to run his gaze over her. “This is Grace.”

  “Such a lovely name,” Sylvia said warmly. “And the beauty to match.”

  Grace managed to tear her attention away from Aaron’s rapt expression long enough to shake the woman’s hand. “It’s lovely to meet you.” She gestured to the barn as a whole. “I never knew this was here.”

  “Well.” Sylvia leaned in with a wink. “We like to keep it quiet. Just friends and family, once a year. But my mother started the tradition, so I get to invite whoever I darn well please.”

  “Lucky for us,” Aaron murmured, dropping a kiss onto the top of Grace’s head. “The place looks great.”

  “Oh, as if you’ve looked away from Grace long enough to spare it a glance.” Sylvia laughed, splitting a thrilled look between Grace and Aaron. “Now, listen. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to put a cup of hot cider in each of your hands, and Aaron, you’re going to take Grace out back through the grove. Remember? We talked about this.”

  “I remember,” Aaron responded with a solemn nod. “We’re ready when you are.”

  As soon as Sylvia was out of earshot, Grace made a wistful sound. “Are we really going back out so soon? This place is incredible.” She braced her throat with a hand. “It’s awful that I don’t know anyone here. This is my hometown.”

  “Now you know Sylvia. That’s a good start.” Aaron pushed one of the red ribbons out of her face. “You should come back next year.”

  Grace didn’t have time to wonder about the hollowness to Aaron’s voice. A group of locals in Rudolph and Frosty sweaters approached, recognizing Aaron from television and asking about the progress of the camp. To her surprise, Aaron labeled Grace the expert on all things YouthAspire and let her update them. At first, her words were stilted, but their encouraging smiles and Aaron’s arm across her shoulders made it easy quickly enough.

  Somewhere along the way, she began to flat out enjoy herself. Watching the children bob for apples and being asked to settle a tie, sharing a piece of pecan pie with Aaron, listening to a grandfather tell stories about the first annual jamboree, back when he’d been a child. By the time Sylvia found them again, Grace’s sides hurt from laughing…although the awareness of Aaron’s proximity never left her. How could it when he didn’t take his eyes off her once, as far as she could tell?

  Sylvia pressed fresh cups of cider into their hands and cocked an eyebrow as if to say, Ready? Without waiting for their nods, she shuffled them through the parting crowd of curious onlookers toward the barn’s back exit. After a dramatic pause and an audible exhale, Sylvia slid open the groaning door. And if Grace thought she’d been taken off guard by the glowing, holiday-happy barn, nothing compared to her internal reaction to the grove.

  Magic lay in front of her. No other description fit the winding path, surrounded by ancient trees, covered top to bottom in lights. Every single color she could fathom, seemingly in every shade. Reds, greens, pinks, blues. A couple of laughing children ran down beneath the overhanging branches, but apart from them, the snowy walkway was deserted.

  “Aaron?”

  His hand smoothed back and forth along the small of her back. “Yeah?”

  Grace couldn’t look away from the glow. “I think you broke another rating scale.” Unable to stand still a moment longer, Grace reached for Aaron’s hand, twining their fingers together. They walked side by side into the grove, the cold somehow less biting within the trees’ embrace. Even their breath seemed to remain in the air longer, hanging there, like white spun sugar. Behind them, the barn door slid shut, muffling the party sounds, but leaving them the gentle cries of violin strings. There was a rush underneath the wind, as if there were a rollicking stream nearby, even though if one existed, it would surely be frozen.

  Before she could get too far, Aaron pulled her to a stop, taking her cider and setting it down on the path’s edge, along with his own. “I don’t dance, Grace.” He contradicted his words by stepping so close she had to crane her neck to keep eye contact. Placing one hand on her hip, he clasped the other against his shoulder. They started to sway in a slow circle, not a breath of air separating them.

  If it were possible for someone to explode, shooting rainbows and unicorns in every direction, that’s what Grace would have done as they danced beneath the ethereal tree light to string music. “If you don’t dance, what do you call this?”

  “An illusion.” There was a smile in his voice. “We’re not actually dancing right now. You’re imagining the whole thing.”

  “I see.” She pressed her lips together to hold in a laugh. “I have been told I let my imagination run away with me. So…what are we actually doing?”

  Aaron’s lips glided over the knuckles of her lifted hand, along the seam of their combined grip. “You’re the one with the imagination. I’d rather you decide.”

  With a big inhale of Aaron’s unique scent, Grace closed her eyes and
let her mind drift. And in such a fairy-tale setting, it wasn’t hard to do. “Maybe we’re really playing hide and seek with those kids. But they can’t find us, because we climbed to the top of the highest tree.”

  “And now we’re stuck. We can’t ever come down.”

  Grace allowed her lids to lift. “See, you have an imagination, too.”

  She could see that playfulness trying to break through in Aaron…and he let it. That was the most extraordinary part—Aaron giving up the fight. He laid his mouth on her temple and continued to sway her. “We wouldn’t have to come down. I’d build you a tower up in the sky.” His lips quirked against her. “We’d let your hair grow until I could use the ribbons to climb down and get supplies. Like ice cream and toothpaste.”

  “And dog food for Old Man.”

  Aaron’s low laugh shifted the strands of her hair. “I’m making a mental note to put a doggie door on this sky tower.”

  “Perfect,” she murmured, feeling weightless. “After that, all we’d need is time.”

  But the comfort slowly dissipated when she connected with Aaron’s stare. It was penetrating, possibly a little agonized, and once again Grace got the distinct feeling Aaron was holding on to something important. Watching her closely, he eased Grace back into a dip, bending her so far, the tips of her hair trailed on the snowy ground. No sooner had Aaron pulled her back up than their mouths were hovering, so close, so very close, mutual heavy breaths making their mark on the air. “Grace, I…”

  “Yes?” she whispered when he didn’t continue.

  “What do you want to do? In the future?” He gave a quick headshake, as if he knew the formality of the question was unworthy of the moment. “Do you have…plans?”

  She wanted to demand to be let inside his head, but in the short time since meeting Aaron, she’d learned to trust her gut. And her gut was telling her not to push. That patience would be rewarded quicker. “I never got a chance to decide. My father decided to run for president, and it’s been all about the campaign since I left Austin. But now I think I’m finally getting breathing room.” As they turned in a slow circle, Grace stared at the myriad colors being cast down on the snow. “I want to stay here until the camp gets up and running, then I want to move on.”