He pressed one last kiss to her soft, swollen mouth, then rolled off the bed. He walked to the bathroom just long enough to grab the warm, wet cloth. When he was back between her legs, he knelt and gentled his voice. “Open for Daddy, babygirl.”
Kip’s thighs trembled as she let them fall apart, trusting him completely. The sight of her legs splayed, her body open to him with eyes already drifting closed, humbled him. He would do everything in his power to be worthy of her trust and love.
He wiped her clean with slow, careful strokes, murmuring praise the whole time. “That’s my good girl. Such a pretty Little girl letting Daddy take care of you. I’m proud of you, little fox. You took everything Daddy gave you, and you were perfect.”
She made a soft, floaty sound that wasn’t quite a word, as her eyes fluttered shut.
He tossed the cloth toward the hamper and scooped her up, quilt and all, settling her on his chest in the middle of the bed. One big hand splayed across her back, he could feel the rapid flutter of her heart slow against his palm. The other cradled the nape of her neck, thumb rubbing slow circles at the base of her skull.
“How are you feeling, little fox?” he asked quietly, needing to hear her answer.
“The best of my life, Daddy,” she whispered against his skin, voice small and blissed-out. “So, so happy.”
He smiled into her hair and reached blindly for the stuffed fox on her pillow. She’d chosen to name her Vixie. Which, as with almost everything else she did, was adorable.
He tucked her friend into her arms. She hugged Vixie tight on instinct, burrowing closer into Trace, cheek pressed over his heart where it belonged.
Trace pulled the heavy quilt over both of them, cocooning her in warmth and him. The room smelled like satisfaction, and he breathed it in like it was oxygen.
“You did so good for me, Kip,” he murmured, lips against her temple. “You flew so high and came back to Daddy like the brave girl you are. You’re perfect, little fox. So damn perfect.”
She made a happy little hum, nuzzling into him, Vixie squished between them. “Love you.”
“Love you more.” He dropped another kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in. “It’s still early, little one. I’m gonna hold you till you fall asleep, then I have to check on the ranch. When you wake up, I’ll ask Ruby to make those little pancakes with the smiley faces you like. Sound good?”
“’Kay,” she sighed, already drifting. “You’ll be there?”
“Always, little fox. Daddy’s not going anywhere.”
Her breathing evened out into soft, steady puffs against his chest. Trace kept stroking her back, slow and steady, counting her heartbeats against his own, feeling the moment she slipped all the way under, trusting him to keep her safe. She was his.
Mine to protect. Mine to love. Mine to keep safe, warm, and happy for the rest of my life.
And what a life it would be. He couldn’t wait.
The fire popped once, a final spark, then settled into quiet ash. Outside, the first pale hint of dawn crept through the sky, butTrace didn’t move. Not yet. First, he pressed one last kiss to her hair and held his whole world tight.
CHAPTER 19
Kip woke up little by little, climbing out of the best dream of her life. The first thing she noticed was the delicious ache between her thighs… so it wasn’t a dream. Trace had really done all those things to her. The second thing she noticed was the empty spot beside her where Trace should have been. For one heart-stopping second, the old panic gripped her throat.
Gone. He’s gone! I knew this would happen!
Then she remembered his sweet goodbye. He’d kissed her forehead at dawn before whispering he had to check the ranch before the next storm rolled in. The last thing she remembered was him telling her to go back to sleep and holding her until she did. He’d promised he’d be at breakfast.
She took a deep breath, hugged Vixie hard, and reached for her Promise Pebble. Breathing the way her Daddy had shown her—slow, deep breath in, slow, steady breath out—she let the truth settle into her bones. One truth for each swipe of her thumb across her pebble.
Swipe.She’d married Trace Daniels.
Swipe.She’d worn his mother’s lace dress that had made her feel beautiful, standing under a Christmas tree dripping with four generations of promises.
Swipe.They’d hung their ornament right in the middle of the tree, the painted crystal disc that caught the light every time the fire popped.
Swipe.The judge said Trace could kiss his bride.Swipe.The way Trace’s mouth had taken hers as if he’d been starving for the right to do it in front of God and everybody.Swipe.The gentleness he’d handled her with last night and the anything but gentle way he’d claimed her earlier that morning.
The room had still been dark then, but now the morning light streamed through the windows and a fire crackled in the hearth. Kip pushed the quilts down and padded barefoot, well, bare-everything, across the wide-plank floor, cool beneath her feet.
It was real. She was Mrs. Trace Daniels. Ms. Kip Daniels. The name had a nice ring to it. The most beautiful ring of all time.
