“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 br**sts 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.”