Her legs locked around his hips. His arousal pressed against her core. Long and hard and thick.
Their clothes were in the way.
Skin to skin. She needed to be that way with him. Needed desperately to be that way.
Her hips arched toward him.
His mouth pulled from hers. Trace began to kiss his way down her neck. Right there. Yes, yes, right there. Where her neck curved into her shoulder. She loved it when he kissed her—
“You won’t forget me,” his words were growled against her overheated flesh. “But you will forget them.”
He was carrying her again. Down the hallway. Another chandelier glittered overhead. They turned, and he took her into the bedroom.
The big bed took up half of the massive space. The curtains were pulled back. The snow was still falling. Beautiful snow, covering the world in a blanket of white.
He lowered her onto the bed.
She thought he’d follow her. That he’d put his body against hers and crush her into the mattress. She wanted wild passion. Wanted to feel the surge of pleasure that would banish her fear and the past.
But he just stared down at her. “You’re even more f**king beautiful now.”
She couldn’t be. She had on old leggings. A sweatshirt. Her hair was a tangle around her head and—
He started with her shoes. Tossed them aside. Tossed aside the leggings and the sweatshirt. Trace stripped her with deft hands, hands that must have undressed plenty of women.
Jealousy bit into her. Don’t go there, don’t.
Soon she was clad only in the slip of her black bra and her matching panties. She was spread on the bed. He still stood above her.
His gaze traveled slowly, so very slowly, over her body. His jaw hardened when his gaze landed on her bra—her br**sts. “So perfect.”
No, she was too small there, she was—
His bright stare drifted over the plane of her belly. Down to the flare of her hips.
Trace licked his lips.
She imagined him licking her.
But…but his gaze didn’t stay. Down, down it went, and some of her passion began to fade.
My leg. I don’t want him looking at my leg.
She didn’t want Trace to see the tangled mass of scars that still covered her calf. The scars that would always cover the skin.
Why hadn’t she turned off the lights? She’d turned them off with Mitch, and she should have thought to turn them off with Trace.
“Don’t,” her voice sharpened as she tried to reach for him.
Trace caught her hands. Pushed them back against the mattress. Fully clothed, he came down on top of her. “Don’t what, baby? Don’t look at you?” His lips—open, hot, sexy—brushed over hers. “Don’t taste? Because that’s exactly what I plan to do. I’ll taste every inch of you.”
Don’t pity me. Those were the words she’d meant to say. But he wasn’t looking at her calf any longer. He was kissing her and holding her wrists prisoner.
She liked the friction of his clothes against her. Liked the feel of that strong, hard body over hers.
Her legs were parted. His hips pushed against her sex, and it was good. So good.
He’d make it better. She knew he would.
“That’s what I’m doing tonight, baby,” the words rumbled against her lips. “I’m tasting, and I’m taking…everything.”
He lifted her hands above her head. Switched his hold so that just one of his hands imprisoned hers. Then his left hand snaked down her body.
Her bra was tossed across the room.
The cool air hit her ni**les, making them go even tighter.
Then his mouth was on her. His mouth wasn’t cool. It was hot. Seeming to singe her and the rasp of his tongue against her ni**les felt so good.
She was wet. She could feel the wetness on her panties, and Skye wanted them gone. She wanted Trace thrusting into her—
“I’ll let your hands go, but don’t move them. I get to touch. I get to taste.” His hands eased away from hers. “I get to take.”
She would be taking her pleasure, too. Trace liked to be in control in the bedroom, dominant, compelling and—
He was kissing his way down her body. His dark stubble pressed into her stomach. His tongue licked over her skin.
His fingers slid under the edge of her panties. “Fuck, yes,” he muttered. “Wet for me.”
She didn’t want to wait any longer. “Trace, now.”
“No.” He pulled the panties down her legs. Then his fingers slid up her thighs. Teased. Tormented her. “I’ve waited too long. I told you, I get to taste and take.”
Everything.
Her hands balled into fists so that she wouldn’t reach out to him.
It’s just sex. It’s just sex. The mantra flew through her head as her heart raced. She had to focus on the present, not the past. Everything got so tangled up when she was with him.
This wasn’t about love.
Sex. Pleasure.
His fingers slid between her legs. Pushed between the folds of her sex. Into her.
She arched off the bed. His thumb rubbed over her clit even as he thrust two fingers into her.
More. “Trace…” Skye could barely gasp out his name.
“You’re so gorgeous like this…” His words were dark, deep. “Flushed, open, ready for me…only me.”
His hands withdrew. No, dammit, she’d been close.
“Say it’s only me, Skye.”
Her lashes lifted. She didn’t even remember closing her eyes.
“Say it.” His mouth lowered to her sex. His lips pressed against her, and if his hands hadn’t moved to hold her hips against the mattress, she would have leapt off the bed at the first, electric touch of his tongue against her sex.
Pleasure beat at her as he tasted her. Her body twisted against the mattress. She wasn’t trying to get away from him. Skye wanted to get closer. Her fingers splayed wide, then grabbed the thick covers, bunching them in her fists.
Release was near, so near—
“Tell me, Skye,” he demanded. A dark note had entered his voice. One that should have made her hesitate. Possessive… fierce… “Only me.”
She hovered on the brink of release. “Trace, I need more—“
“I’ll give you every f**king thing.”
A zipper hissed down. He lowered his body against hers.
He thrust into her.
Not easy. Not tentative.
He drove deep, filling her completely, and she stopped being on the brink. Pleasure flooded through her. She gasped as her heart raced, seeming to pound right out of her chest. Her whole body tightened as that release swept over her. So good…so perfect…on and on and on.