She’d had a walk of pure temptation. Eyes that made him think constantly of sex and the pleasures found between lovers. She’d belonged to Tucker. He knew it, and he’d done his best to keep his hands off her.
But she’d come to him. They’d danced too much and drank too damn much in a godforsaken bar in Russia.
They’d f**ked in that same bar.
When the booze had cleared from his head, Drake had hated himself for what he’d done. He’d wanted to tell Tucker about his mistake.
But Anna Jean had said that Tucker would never forgive. Or forget.
“Drake…”
He turned at the faint call. He could just see the outline of a person, walking toward him. He squinted, trying to see better in the storm.
“Drake.”
A woman’s voice. Drifting to him. He took a step toward her, focusing completely on her now.
So when the blow came from behind, he didn’t have time to defend himself.
Something heavy and hard slammed into the back of his head. Then Drake felt himself flying to the side, and he crashed right into the icy water.
***
“Did I hurt you?” Trace stared down at Skye as a fist seemed to squeeze his heart. His body still shuddered with aftershocks of the most powerful release he’d ever had.
He’d gone damn blind there for a moment. He’d only been able to feel—her.
Her head tilted back against the wall, and she smiled at him. A slow, sensual smile that pierced straight through him. “Was that supposed to scare me?”
He’d been too rough. Too controlling, too—
“If so, then I think you should work real hard to scare me again. You know, every night or so.”
The tightness around his heart eased. He lifted her into his arms. Her hands wrapped around his neck, and he carried her to the bathroom.
Trace sat her on the granite countertop. Carefully, he cleaned off the signs of their love-making from her body. And when he looked up, he found Skye staring straight at him.
“Every lover that I’ve ever had…he’s been you in the dark.” Her voice was soft and sensual.
Always tempting me.
He tossed aside the cloth. Trace put his hands on either side of her body. He didn’t touch her, not then. Try to go five seconds without touching her. “No other lover could ever compare to you.” After he’d had sex with them, he couldn’t get away from the other women fast enough. Because they weren’t Skye.
And he’d felt guilty, so damn guilty, for being with them.
Even when Skye had been a world away.
“I never asked you for a list of lovers,” Skye said.
That gave him pause. He’d asked for a list of her lovers, back when he’d been trying to figure out who was stalking her. He’d also been tempted to destroy every man on her list.
“I don’t want to know about them,” Skye said. “Because then I’ll just have people to hate.”
His breath burned in his lungs. “You’re it for me. There can’t be anyone else, not after what we’ve had.”
Her smile grew then and lit her eyes. She leaned toward him. Her lips pressed against his ear. “Good,” Skye whispered, “because I’d hate to hurt a bitch.”
Her words surprised him so much—coming from his delicate Skye—not so delicate—that Trace laughed.
Skye didn’t laugh. She kept gazing up into his eyes. “Oh, Trace,” Skye said softly. “When are you ever going to realize the truth? You don’t love me because you want to protect me. You love because you realize that, deep down, we’re very much alike.”
His laughter slowly faded.
His Skye.
If another man tried to come near her…
I’d destroy the bastard.
“Yes,” Trace whispered, “we are.” Then he kissed her once more.
***
Drake broke through the surface of the waves, his breath heaving out. He’d barely avoided slamming into the dock on his way into the blackness of the water.
“Over here!” A woman’s voice shouted.
Her?
Someone was crouched at the edge of the pier. When lightning flashed, he could see the outline of a person’s body.
He grabbed for the dock. Caught the wooden ladder that would get him out of the water.
Something dripped into his eyes. Water? Or blood?
Her hand reached for him. “Let me help you!”
He grabbed her and yanked her into the water with him.
She screamed. Hell, yes, it’s your turn to scream.
She also…sank?
The woman disappeared beneath the waves. Swearing, Drake dove after her. He caught her hair, long, spider-web like tendrils that drifted in the water, and he reached lower, grabbing for her.
They broke the surface together. She was gasping and shuddering and clinging to him as desperately as she could.
“Anna Jean?” Drake demanded. No, that wasn’t right. Anna Jean could swim for miles. She’d gone swimming with sharks for f**k’s sake. Anna Jean had no fear. Anna Jean—
The woman was about to choke him with her death-grip on his neck. “M-my…s-sister…”
He dragged her toward the dock. Hauled her up. Dropped her like a sack of potatoes.
She pushed up to her knees. “Y-you aren’t what I thought…”
He still couldn’t see her face. There just wasn’t enough light. Rain pelted down on them, hitting like hard spikes against his skin.
But…her voice was wrong. Too soft and husky, and tinged with the faintest of accents.
“Who the hell are you?”
She shoved wet hair out of her face. “I’m Piper, and I…I believe you knew my sister, Anna Jean.”
Believe? What the hell kind of game was this? “Where’s your partner?”
“I-I don’t have a partner.”
“Sure you do.” And Drake yanked out his weapon. The gun had been soaked, but there was a fifty-fifty chance it would still fire at least one bullet. “The jerk who hit me and threw me in the water. Now tell me…where the hell is he?”
She shook her head.
“Fine, I figure that answer means we get to do things the hard way.” He grabbed her and put the gun to her throat.
She screamed.
***
Trace answered his phone, stopping the peeling rings. “What the hell is it?” At this time of night, it had better be important.
“I’ve got her,” Drake’s growling voice said. “Get to your dancer’s studio. I’m heading there now.”