Mine to Keep (Mine #2)

Mine to Keep (Mine #2) Page 9

“For what?”

“Without you, I would’ve been as lost as Ben.”

“No, you—”

He kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with all of her passion, all of her love. She wanted to show Trace that she was with him, through good and bad, and everything in the middle.

His tongue slid over her lips. His hands trailed over her body. He knew where to touch her. Where to stroke and caress so that she arched eagerly toward him. Wanting all that he had to give her.

But he didn’t thrust into her.

Not even when she begged.

Instead, he put his mouth between her legs. He licked her. He tasted her. He drove her into a frenzy.

She came against his mouth. With her hands in the thickness of his hair. With her hips arching toward him.

Skye came that way, and she wanted more.

But Trace was the one in control. That fierce control that she wanted to smash into a million pieces.

He brought her to the brink of another release. Tears leaked down her cheeks. She cried out for him. Wanted more. “Trace, now, I need—”

He rolled away from her. Stood. His erect cock thrust out toward her, and Skye wanted it buried in her core.

She reached for him.

He backed away.

“T-Trace?”

His eyes squeezed closed. “Have you ever wanted something so much…so badly…but you were afraid you’d destroy that one thing if you actually took it?”

Her thighs quivered. Soft contractions still pulsed in her sex. “You won’t destroy me.”

His smile came then. Sad and cruel. “Oh, baby, you shouldn’t be so sure. Tonight, I’m weak, and you don’t want me without my control.”

This was the moment that mattered.

Skye slid from the bed. Her knees sank onto the lush carpet. “I want you every way.” Why couldn’t he understand that?

She opened her mouth and tasted him. It was her turn to lick, to stroke, to enjoy the hot and hard length of his cock in—

He jerked her up. Spun her around. Pushed her onto the bed and lifted up her hips. Her stomach hit the mattress even as her hands fisted in the sheets. She heaved up and tried to glance over her shoulder at him.

Trace sank into her. A deep, hard thrust. There was no holding back then, he drove into her in a plunge that took her breath.

His hands were tight bands around her hips. He withdrew, thrust. Again and again. Each thrust was harder than the last.

She tried to arch back against him, but he was moving too fast, too fiercely.

The rhythm was wild and rough. Not like the controlled lovemaking that he’d shown her in the last few weeks. He was plunging so deeply—rubbing inside of her. She was slick and swollen from her release.

“Give to me,” he gritted out. “Want…everything…”

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

“Mine…” His left hand freed her hip. Slid around her body. Closed around her breast. Stroked the nipple. Palmed her breast. “Every inch.”

In and out…in and out…

His right hand moved then. Went around her hip and his fingers found her clit. He wasn’t gentle. Rough, demanding—

And she exploded, bucking against him as the release slammed into her.

“Fuck, yes.”

His mouth was on her shoulder. She felt the faint sting of his teeth.

And the hot surge of his release as he came inside of her.

He was around her, surrounding her, and she couldn’t stop the waves of pleasure. They came and came. Hollowing her out and leaving Skye limp.

She sagged beneath him.

Trace without his control…

“I warned you.” His voice was different. Stilted.

She found the strength to turn her head a few inches and look back at him. His face appeared leaner, harder.

“Next time…” Skye heard herself say, “fuck me harder.”

His body tensed. “Skye.” And he started to fuck her again.

He wasn’t treating her like a delicate doll or like a victim—and she wanted every single thing he had to give her.

A moan slipped from her.

Fuck me harder.

She was lost.

Trace stared down at Skye while she slept. The covers pooled around her, and Skye’s hand was out, reaching toward his pillow.

As if she were reaching for him in her sleep.

After last night, she still wants me?

Talk about a miracle.

He’d given her a taste of the darkness that lived inside of him last night. She hadn’t been afraid. Despite everything, Skye hadn’t hesitated.

She’d given him pleasure. Demanded her own.

Fuck me harder.

His cock twitched just thinking about those words.

Was it any wonder that other women had left him cold? They’d never been enough for him, because they weren’t Skye.

His fingers lifted and brushed lightly over her cheek. He wanted to let her sleep, but if he did, Trace knew Skye would be pissed.

She wanted to go to her studio. She wanted to start seeing her students.

And he wanted her happy.

He bent and brushed his lips over hers. “Wake up, baby.”

Her eyes blinked open. For an instant, she seemed lost, then Skye focused her gaze on him. A soft smile curved her lips.

She was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

And he had to leave her.

He kissed her again. “I have to go in to the office today. Reese will to take you to the studio.”

Her brow furrowed. “More guard duty? But I thought—”

“Humor me, just a little longer.” Until he could get a better grasp on just what was happening in this town. Sharpe had spoken of a ghost and of the dead coming back. Trace had tried to tell him that the past was dead and buried but…

Was that past coming back?

She’ll destroy you.

The hell she would.

“Tonight…” His fingers brushed down her arm. “I’m supposed to attend a charity auction and ball. It’s something I agreed to attend months ago.” Before Skye had walked back into his life. “I don’t want to ditch because the money’s going to the Children’s Home and—”

“You have to attend,” Skye said immediately.

He nodded. They’d both been through the foster system. Cast out. They knew what it was like to need a stable home.

“Do you want to go with me?” And, yes, he was actually holding his breath as he waited for Skye’s reply. But he knew that she hadn’t been to a big public event, not since before her car crash in New York. There would be plenty of reporters waiting outside of the hotel because so many of the city’s elite would be attending, and Skye might not want to walk right into that feeding frenzy but—

“Of course, Trace, you know I’d go anywhere with you.”

His heart ached at her words.

She pushed up, leaning toward him. “I’ll always go where—”

Skye broke off when he caught her arms. Carefully, very carefully, he lowered her back onto the bed.

“Trace? What is it?”

He pushed the covers out of the way.

And hated himself.

He could see his fingerprints—dark smudges, brown bruises, on her waist. He’d held her hips so tightly last night that he’d hurt her.

He’d always known that he had to take care with Skye. She was too delicate. Too breakable for him. “I hurt you.”

Her gaze followed his. She stared at the bruises on her flesh. Markings. My mark.

The ache in his chest grew worse. He’d never wanted to do this. Never—

Skye laughed. “That’s nothing. Obviously, you didn’t see the claw marks I left on your back.”

His head snapped up at her words.

A smile lit her face. Made her eyes shine. She was more than just beautiful.

She was every hope and dream that he’d ever had.

She squirmed against him, and he let her. Skye immediately wrapped her arms around him and brought her mouth close to his. “In case you didn’t notice, what with all the moaning and panting I was doing last night, I like things a little rough with you. I like it when you lose control.”

She just didn’t seem to realize that when he lost control, dangerous things happened.

“A few bruises aren’t going to kill me,” Skye told him, voice soft. “I didn’t even feel you holding me that tightly last night. I was focused on, you know, other things.” She licked his lower lip. “And I’m sure I’ll be focused on those other things again soon.”

Yes, she would be.

He kissed her. Not hard and wild. But deep. Using every bit of sensual skill that he had.

Did Skye want him as much as he wanted her? Did she crave him?

More than breath?

“Wear the diamonds tonight,” he said against her mouth. “And if you need to buy a dress, use my card—our card—and get anything you want.”

“I have what I want.” Her eyelashes lifted to reveal the gorgeous green of her eyes. “See you tonight.”

He should back away. And, slowly, Trace made himself do just that. It just took a huge effort.

But her words echoed in his ears. I have what I want.

He had exactly what he wanted, too. And no one would ever take her from him again.

Skye didn’t buy a dress. She still had a few dresses left from her New York days.

Skye went with a black dress. You can’t go wrong with black, right? The dress was a form fitting bit of silk that clung to her like a second skin. The front collar scooped around her breasts and the back—well, there wasn’t a back. It plunged to the base of her spine, then the skirt fell, swirling around her feet.

She’d worn the dress once before, to a post-dance party after she performed as a particularly wicked witch. She’d thought the dress fit her character.

Daring. Dark.

Skye stared at her reflection in the mirror as she secured the diamonds. They were still cold against her skin.

Cold and glittering.

A fortune.

She didn’t want to wear them.

But she did, for Trace.

The floor squeaked behind her. She turned at once, and her gaze caught his.

He was dressed in a black tux. One that made his shoulders look even wider. One that she knew had been cut just for him.

She stared at him and thought of sex. Temptation.

Because he looked good enough to eat.

“Have I ever told you…” Trace asked as his gaze glided over her. “That you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?”

He was lying. She knew she wasn’t the most beautiful. She’d followed his exploits over the years. The man had kept company with supermodels. She was too thin, her breasts were too small. Her chin too pointed. She was—

He sighed. “Skye, what have I told you about leaving me?”

She blinked at him.

He was right in front of her. The guy sure moved fast.

“Be with me,” he ordered.

“I am.” Inches away.

“And believe me when I tell you…to me, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Her breath slid out in a soft sigh. She believed him.

Skye smiled up at him. Fear had been trying to take root inside of her, but it vanished, drifting right away.

Trace reached for her hand. He lifted it up, and the diamond on her finger gleamed in the light. “Everyone will know you’re mine.”

“I’ve been yours since I was fifteen.” The truth was there between them. They had no room for pretense. “I just had to wait for us to be together again.”

She saw the flare of longing in his eyes. “You make me want to tell the rest of the world to screw off.” He kissed her knuckles. Lightly licked the skin.

A hot spike of arousal fired her blood. “We have to go, but we don’t have to stay there forever,” she whispered back.

He smiled. Such a gorgeous, sexy smile. “I’ve been yours, too,” he told her, voice rumbling. “Since the moment I first heard you call for me. You got to me, when no one else could.” Then he eased back. His gaze swept her once more. “Every man in the room will want you.”

She doubted that. “You’re the only man I’ll leave with.”

“Always,” he said.

Skye nodded.

Always.

A sea of reporters greeted them the instant the limo’s doors opened. Reese hadn’t driven them, not to this event. A posh limo escorted Skye and Trace toward Chicago’s Magnificent Mile and deposited them right at the red carpet that led to the entrance of the illustrious Bartley Hotel, an icon that had been in the city since the early 1930s.

Trace exited first. She heard the reporters shout his name.

He ignored them and turned back toward her. Bending, he offered Skye his hand.

She put one high-heeled foot out. Then the other.

When she rose, there was a moment of silence. Perfect, complete silence.

Then the questions exploded.

“Skye! Skye Sullivan! Can you confirm the rumors that you and Trace Weston are planning to marry?”

She thought her ring confirmed that rumor.

“Ms. Sullivan! Is it true that you’ve been offered a spot as lead in Robert Wolfe’s next ballet?”

That question made her falter. Robert had been her choreographer for years when she danced in New York. When it came to the top echelon of the New York ballet, Robert was the man in charge.

Skye found herself shaking her head. There was no return for her. Robert certainly hadn’t come to ask—

“Is it true that you were in a mental facility for the last three weeks because you had a breakdown?”

Skye stiffened.