Mine to Take

Page 10

“I-I didn’t even realize the photo was still there. I just haven’t tossed it out—”
“You’re done with Skye. She’s done with you. She’s moved the fuck on, and you need to do the same.” Trace held the guy’s gaze a moment longer, wanting to make sure the fellow got the point.
Skye’s fist hit the door. “Trace, stop it!” Fear and anger twined in that demand.
Because she remembered what he was like. She shouldn’t worry so much. He was leaving the doctor in one piece. For the moment.
The sex was good.
“It might have just been good with you,” Trace said as he cast a disdainful glance at the doc. “But it’s fucking fantastic with me.”
Then he left the not-so-good doctor glaring after him.
“What did you do?” Skye pounced on him.
He shrugged. “Set a few things straight.”
Now it was time to find that nurse and confirm Mitch Loxley’s whereabouts.
The door slammed closed behind him. Trace was pretty sure he heard a fist hit the wood.
Good. The message had been received.
***
She belonged with him.
Skye had to see it. No one else would do for her. No one else could match her the way he did.
They were meant to be.
Her sweet scent still filled his lungs. Her face haunted his nights.
He couldn’t get away from her.
He’d make sure she didn’t escape from him.
There was no place that she could hide. He’d been watching her for too long. He knew all her secrets.
Beautiful Skye carried so many secrets.
She wasn’t the good girl that people thought her to be. Wasn’t the sweet sleeping beauty in need of true love’s kiss.
Skye had a dark side. That was why he was so drawn to her.
Skye’s darkness matched his own.
No one would come between them.
Not now.
Not ever.
He’d see Skye dead first.
Chapter Five
“The trip was a waste of time.” The plane flew through the air, the sound of its engines not even penetrating the lush interior. Skye’s fingers fumbled with the clasp of her seatbelt.
Trace sat across from her. His legs were spread, brushing against hers, and a glass of whiskey was held loosely in his hand.
“I told you before…none of those men would do this.” Her ex’s. Since Evan was shooting a film in Hawaii, he’d been ruled off Trace’s suspect list. At least, she hoped that he had.
Both Mitch and Robert’s alibis had checked out. Four dancers had backed up Robert. And the nurse with the too-big breasts had been quick to fill in Trace about Mitch’s recent activities.
“I needed to see them,” Trace took a long drink of the whiskey, “and their reaction to you.”
“To me? Uh, they didn’t exactly have a reaction—”
He downed the rest of the whiskey in a fast gulp. “Robert views you as a possession. His possession. A dancer that he controls.”
Yes, he did. She glanced out the darkened window. That was the reason she’d broken things off with him. Not that there had been much to break-off. They’d only been together a week when she realized she’d made a serious mistake by getting intimately involved with him.
“As for the doctor, he was lying through his teeth.” Trace sat the empty glass down beside him.
“What do you mean?” Marsha had said that Mitch hadn’t left town in over two months. Trace had seemed doubtful, but Marsha had pulled out appointment calendars that were filled with patient listings—all tying back to Mitch.
“Mitch Loxley would take you back in an instant if he could. He probably still jerks off to you at night.”
Her mouth dropped open. He had not just said that to her. “You can’t know that…”
“Sure I can. Because I did the same damn thing until I got you back.” Trace unhooked his seatbelt. Stared at her with glittering eyes. “Come here, Skye.”
She didn’t want to move. “We didn’t learn anything useful in New York.” Why had her voice gone all husky?
His hot gaze stayed on hers. “I got a chance to talk personally with the cops. I went over the police report for your accident. I actually learned a hell of a lot.”
She shook her head. “We don’t know who’s doing this—”
“Come here.”
His voice had deepened.
“I’m right here.” Her heart was pounding too hard and fast in her chest. She shifted her legs restlessly. Brushed them against his. The move hadn’t been deliberate, had it?
“That’s not close enough.” His fingers tapped against the armrests on either side of his seat. “I like that skirt on you.”
It wasn’t like she’d had a lot of clothing choices. Since he’d been the one to pack for this little trip, she’d had to take what she could get.
Right then, Skye wore a long, black skirt and matching top.
Underneath that skirt?
Thigh highs. Her garter belt.
“What did the doctor mean when he said, ‘after that night’?”
Her breath burned in her lungs. She did not want to make this confession. She needed to keep a little pride.
“Skye…”
Her head jerked. “It doesn’t matter. We’re over.”
“You and Loxley are.” He hadn’t moved from his seat. “But you and I are just getting started.” His gaze swept over her. “Why are you afraid of me?”
That question caught her off guard. “I’m not!” An instant denial.
“Of course, you are. You’ve been afraid of me since the night we met.”
She didn’t want to remember that night. “You saved me then.”
“I scared you because I was so violent. Because in that one instant, you saw the real me—the me that I try so hard to hide from everyone else.”
The man who’d walked a razor’s edge of violence. Who’d attacked with a stunning fury.
“No other woman has seen me like that.” His gaze returned to pin hers. “I try to take care with them, to make sure that I hold myself in check.”
She couldn’t look away from him. “I don’t want you to pretend to be someone else with me.”
“I don’t. Not with you.” His right hand lifted. Opened toward her. “And that’s why you’re scared. Because you know how dangerous I can be, and you still want me.”
Yes, she did.
Skye found herself rising. Walking those few feet that separated them and reaching for his offered hand.
He immediately pulled her down on top of him. In seconds, Trace had her positioned so that her legs draped over his. So that her sex pushed down against the firm ridge of his arousal.
His lips were on her neck, kissing her lightly. “Tell me about that night…the night the doctor lost you.”
Her eyes squeezed shut.
His fingers slid under the skirt. Trailed lightly up her thigh. Her muscles tightened beneath that touch.
“I don’t want to talk about him.” She wouldn’t.
His fingers pushed a little higher. Her body was tense, aching. If he would just move his fingers up a little bit more…
“What do you want, Skye?”
She forced herself to open her eyes. To meet his bright stare. “I want you.” No hesitation. No lies.
His head tilted. “The pilot is close by. What if he hears you?”
Her heart beat a little faster at that. “I-I won’t make a sound.”
“I’ve made you scream before.”
Her breath sawed from her lungs. His fingers had risen up a few more inches. She felt them at the edge of her panties. Then…then he was touching her through the soft silk. Rubbing over her and she pressed down into his hand. “I won’t make a sound,” she whispered again.
“We’ll see…” Trace murmured. His fingers slipped under the silk. “Oh, baby, you’re already wet for me.” His fingers caressed her sex, teasing her, tormenting her.
Skye’s hands locked on the seat behind his head. She squeezed tightly when his index finger thrust into her.
That wasn’t enough. She needed more from him.
His thumb pressed over the center of her clit. Pressed, rotated, and had her hips thrusting desperately against his hand.
Her nails sank into that seat when a second finger pushed into her.
He kissed her neck. His tongue licked her skin, then she felt the faint bite of his teeth. “You want to come, don’t you?”
She was almost—
“But not yet,” he said, and his fingers eased back. Stroked, but didn’t push her toward that wild rush for pleasure. “Not just yet.”
Her head turned. Their eyes met.
“Tell me about that night.”
What the hell?
She shoved away from the seat, away from him. “No.” Why did he have to know everything about her? Some shames were her own.
Skye tried to scramble back into her seat. Forget being graceful. She would just fall on her ass if necessary. Whatever. Anything to escape.
But he didn’t let her go. He pulled her back against him, and the long, thick bulge of his arousal pressed into her damp panties. “There’s nowhere to run.”
Not when they were nearly thirty thousand feet up in the air.
“And you don’t want to run, not from me. I’m the one you ran to.” His mouth was on her neck again. On that spot where her shoulder and neck met. On the spot that always made her weak.
She hated being so weak with him. So vulnerable. He shouldn’t have such power over her body. Over her. He shouldn’t—
He’s not the only one with power.
Determination filled her. She wasn’t going to play his game. She’d show Trace that his need for her blazed just as hot as her own.
Her hands pushed between them. Found that heavy length of arousal. She stroked him through the pants that he wore. His cock jerked beneath her touch.
“Skye…”
“The plane will land soon. I’m done talking.” She’d been through enough. She unbuttoned his fly. Unzipped his pants. No underwear. Typical for Trace. Her fingers closed around him, and she pumped his flesh. Once, twice.
Touching him turned her on. That was her weakness.
It was his, too.
His breath hissed out. His fingers pushed into her sex again, thrusting hard and deep even as she pumped him. It was good, so good, hands stroking, caressing. She still had her skirt on. Her bra, her panties…he’d just shoved those panties to the side.
He was hot and hard and strong in her hand. Moisture gleamed on the head of his arousal, and she knew that just a few more—
“Not that way,” he snarled, the words dark and hard. “In you.”
Her panties ripped. He lifted her hips. Her skirt swirled around them. He lifted her—and thrust deep.
He filled her completely with that one thrust. So full that she couldn’t move for an instant. Her knees were on either side of his hips. One of her knees jammed into the armrest—she didn’t care.
Trace started to move again. No, he moved her. Lifting her up, bringing her crashing back down.
“Can you…stay quiet…?” He rasped the words as the black of his pupils spread in his eyes. “Or will you scream…for me?”
Her heart raced faster, seeming to jump from her chest. His hand was still stroking the center of her need, and he had her angled so that every thrust sent his cock over her most sensitive flesh.
His open pants brushed against her legs. Still dressed. We’re both—
“I like it when you scream.”
Her release was coming. Tightening her body. Spiraling up and blazing through her.
He thrust harder. Harder. His grip was so tight, she wondered if it might bruise her.
Then she—
Trace drove deep.
She exploded with a release so hard and consuming that her whole body shuddered. A cry broke from her lips.
“Yes, hell, yes.” Trace found his own pleasure. A hot tide filled her as he came.
For a few moments, she couldn’t see anything. She could only feel the pleasure that shook her body in hard, desperate waves. Her breath wasn’t deep enough. Her heart couldn’t slow down.
“So fucking beautiful…” He brushed back her hair. Kissed her.
Was that the first time he’d kissed her on that plane?
She blinked, and some of the darkness seemed to fade.
“We’re about to begin our descent…” The pilot’s voice floated to her. “Please make sure you’re buckled.”
Heat burned her face.
Trace just laughed.
She’d screamed. Right at the end there, she’d screamed for him.
Fumbling, Skye pulled away from Trace. Her panties were on the floor. She grabbed for them.
But Trace got to them first. His hand fisted around her underwear. “They’re ruined. Don’t worry. I’ll buy you a new pair.”
She sank into her seat. Her thighs were trembling. She could still feel him inside of her.
Her sex kept contracting.
Her hands fumbled as she hooked the seatbelt. Skye squeezed her legs together as she tried to stop that trembling.
Very slowly, he readjusted his own clothes. He tucked her panties in his pocket. Trace kept his eyes on her. “That’s the thing,” he murmured.
“Wh-what thing?” Why did she have to stutter around him?
“You are afraid of me, but you want me anyway.” His lips twisted in a smile that held no humor. “Sometimes I even wonder, do you want me because you fear me?”
The plane began to descend. She felt the slight change. “What kind of question is that?”