Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(7)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Then his hands went to the back of her dress. A flick of his fingers unhooked the button near her nape, and the dress slid to the floor with a soft slither of sound.

She was left in her high heels, her black panties and her matching bra.

Trace was fully dressed.

“Don’t move,” he told her.

Then he reached around her, and, yes, the sparkle on the bed seemed even brighter now.

Diamonds. A necklace full of glittering diamonds.

He put the diamonds around her neck. They were cold, and she let out a little gasp.

A fortune. That’s what he just put around my neck.

She knew exactly how much those diamonds had cost him. In another life, she’d been a prima ballerina in New York. Before her car accident and her stalker, before the nightmares—

“Skye.” Her name was a sharp demand.

Her gaze flew to his face.

“Stay with me,” he ordered.

He always knew what she was thinking.

But do I know him?

The diamonds chilled her skin.

He lifted her hair, brushing it back over her shoulder. “You’re so beautiful.”

And he was the only man she’d ever loved.

At fifteen, he’d burst into her life, saving her from an attack. He’d been her hero then.

Her world.

But he’d left her. Gone away, and for ten years, they hadn’t seen one another.

What happened to him during those years?

He lowered his head and he kissed her neck. Her breath rushed out because that spot was so sensitive, and Trace knew that.

Just as he knew everything about her.

He lowered her onto the bed. Came down with her. Surrounded her.

“I’ll make you happy,” he promised. “We can have everything.”

Skye shoved her doubts and fears away. This was Trace. They’d survived hell before.

They could survive anything that came their way.

“I already have everything,” Skye said softly, and she didn’t mean the necklace that seemed to be such a heavy weight against her skin.

Trace didn’t strip. She expected him to, but he didn’t. His hands became harder, rougher on her. He pulled her to the edge of the bed.

His fingers slid between her legs. One yank, and her panties were gone. He stroked her, caressed her, had her own fingers twisting in the bed covers as the need grew within her.

But…

He’s too careful.

Since the attack, he’d always been that way when they had sex.

She didn’t want care.

She wanted fire.

Lust.

Need.

He unzipped his pants. Put his c**k right at the entrance of her body. Trace leaned over her. “Forever, Skye.”

Her eyes locked with his. Her hands grabbed him, and her nails dug through the fabric of his shirt, sinking in with a sensual bite.

“Forever,” she agreed, and her hips surged toward him just as he thrust into her.

She lost her breath then. He stretched her, filled her so completely. He tried to pull back, to go easier.

“I won’t break,” she said, panting out the words. “Faster, Trace, harder.” Because it was what she needed.

His gaze never left hers. He gave her what she wanted.

Fast.

Hard.

But he was in control. Every moment. She could feel it in the tight movements of his body. See it in the hard clench of his jaw.

She wanted him out of control. Wild.

But he wasn’t letting go.

“Trace!” His name was a demand.

His head bent. He jerked her bra out of the way and put his mouth on her breast. Licked. Kissed.

She felt the light edge of his teeth on her.

Skye erupted. Pleasure blasted through her, and she held him as fiercely as she could.

His movements roughened. His hips pistoned against her. Close—close—he was almost losing his control. Skye just needed to push him over that edge.

She wrapped her legs around him.

He came with a shout. His eyes flashed, seeming to go blind for an instant. He shuddered, his body curving over her. He was still standing at the edge of the bed.

Still dressed.

Still holding all the control, even in his moment of release.

Skye stared up at him, lost.

She’d been lost with Trace from the beginning.

There was no going back. Not for her.

Not for him.

He pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “I knew you’d be gorgeous in diamonds.”

The diamonds were beautiful, but Skye didn’t care about them. I only care about him.

He withdrew from her. Tenderly took care of her and even tucked her under the covers.

But he didn’t join her.

“Get some rest,” he told her, voice gruff. “You’re safe, and you’re home.” He smiled down at her. “Our life is just starting…”

***

His life was ending.

Ben Sharpe ran down the busy Chicago street. Rain beat down on him, the storm erupting suddenly from the sky.

Weston hadn’t taken his warning seriously.

He’d tried to help the man, but Weston hadn’t wanted to hear his words.

Weston hadn’t wanted him there at all.

He didn’t want me near her.

It was just as bad as Ben had feared. Weston’s weakness was right there, and the man didn’t even realize it.

Skye Sullivan would be his downfall. Weston needed to protect himself, to back the hell away from her.

Before it was too late.

***

Trace shut the bedroom door.

He could smell Skye’s scent on his skin. Sweet vanilla. He could feel her silken flesh beneath his fingers.

He wanted to go back in that room, to wrap his arms around her and hold her through the night.

But first, he had to take care of some unfinished business. Business that would not be allowed to touch Skye.

He hurried down the hallway. Grabbed his phone. In seconds, he had Reese on the line. “Where is he?” Trace demanded.

Lightning flashed outside of his windows. The storm had come up so suddenly.

“He’s about to hop the train. I tried to get the guy to stay at a motel.” Disgust and anger thickened Reese’s voice. “But the fool took a punch at me.”

Trace’s back teeth clenched. “Keep your eyes on him until I can meet up with you. I’m leaving now.” He glanced toward the hall. Skye’s soft heart would be a problem. Because she looked at Ben Sharpe, and she saw her own mother.

But Skye’s mother had been dangerous.

And so was Ben.

You won’t get near Skye again.

Reese was still talking, giving Trace intel about the train and Ben’s location.

Trace left the penthouse. The elevator descended quickly to the parking garage.