Free Stranded and Straddled by Em Petrova Page B

use the restroom.” She pivoted to face him in the small area. His trailer was one long, skinny box, equipped for a guy who didn’t have the extra cash to waste on motel rooms. He had a love seat, coffee maker, TV, and a bed in the back. All he needed.
    Right now, the sight of his rumpled bed in the nook behind Lacey drove Trace mad with lust. Her tight curves tormented him, from her skinny jeans to the short-sleeved, rodeo tour T-shirt. He nearly closed his eyes at the sight of her upper arms. Damn, what was it about those golden arms that made him struggle to keep from thinking of ropes?
    Silence crashed between them, a bucking bronco of sexual tension and unspoken hurt.
    “I need to get back to my car.”
    He took a hasty step toward her, effectively pinning her between him and the love seat. “What’s the hurry? You have important business in the front of your Chevy?” In the front of my Ram, yes. Stretched out on the seat, arms locked around his neck, and their hips moving to the music of their passion.
    “Trace…”
    He didn’t move back out of her space, but he did let the thread of his desire go. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to account for his actions.
    “Why didn’t you leave early when your pa did?” he asked.
    She shook her head. Melting tendrils of hair clung to her throat and snaked into her cleavage.
    He clamped his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. At this moment, there seemed to be nothing more important than exploring her sweet skin and full breasts.
    He shivered.
    She shivered.
    Springing into action, he grabbed a warm woolen blanket from the love seat. He slung it around her shoulders. He hovered over her, bending just close enough to get a whiff of her feminine scent—body wash and a hint of perfume she sometimes dabbed behind her ears.
    Lacey fell still as their gazes locked. One heartbeat…two.
    Using the blanket gathered in his fist under her chin, he yanked her against his chest.
    She sucked in a breath, eyes darkening. He stared at her for a full minute before propelling her toward the seating. He made her sit, and then returned to the coffee maker. He added water from a gallon jug and fragrant coffee. In seconds, the aroma of coffee filled the trailer, but it didn’t disguise Lacey’s vanilla scent.
    “So?” He leaned against the counter and watched her.
    She hunched her shoulders under the blanket, her loose hair spread over the cloth. Confusion creased the smooth skin between her brows. “So what?”
    “Why didn’t you leave early like your pa?”
    “Oh…well, I was helping out a friend, and I told Pa to go on without me.” Her gaze slithered away, telling him this “friend” was important to her. She wasn’t avoiding Trace’s stare because she admired the cracked linoleum floor.
    Possessiveness reared in him, bucking wildly at his ribcage. But reminiscing about all the good times with Lacey wouldn’t do him any good. He’d lost her to his filthy temper. Scared her when he’d gone through his trailer on a rampage and knocked everything to the floor, kicked it, and then slammed a fist into the thin, paneled wall.
    All because he hadn’t won that big title.
    Except it wasn’t the belt buckle he’d wanted—it was the cash prize. He’d had every intention of blowing that wad of money on a big ring for her. But after his temper tantrum she’d vanished from his life. He’d tried to talk to her a few times, but she always managed to avoid him.
    His gaze drifted to the hole in the wall. “Who is he?” His tone sounded as if he’d drunk spurs with a chaser of whiskey.
    “What?”
    “The friend you were helping.”
    A flush stole over her high cheekbones. “Oh…” Again she flapped a hand from inside the blanket, making it wave like a red flag in front of a bull.
    Then she did it . Gave him that look he was all too familiar with—the one she wore when he was about to slide between her thighs.
    He approached her slowly, each boot heel