Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(14)
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Trace motioned with his hand. Immediately, Reese advanced and escorted the detective back outside.
Skye waited a few seconds, making sure that both Reese and Alex were out of ear shot. Then she jerked free of Trace’s hand and rushed into the main studio. Her reflection stared back at her—eyes too wide, skin too pale.
“Skye…”
She turned to confront him. “What in the hell was that about?”
“Probably a robbery.” He shook his head. The faint lines near his eyes had deepened, making him appear grim. “Ben was in the wrong place and—”
“You lied to Alex.”
At her words, every bit of emotion vanished from Trace’s face. “What do you mean?”
“I woke up last night. You were gone. That’s what I mean.” And she was shaking. Nausea tightened her stomach. “Tell me you didn’t go after Ben. Tell me—”
He shot forward and grabbed her forearms. “I wanted to help him.”
She didn’t want to hear this. Hadn’t she just said for him to tell her that he didn’t—
“I found Ben. I tried to get him to come with me so that I could help him, but the guy refused. He ran away from me. He left, and I went back home, to you.”
She stared up at him.
“It was storming and the lightning lit up the bedroom.” His pupils expanded, swallowing some of the bright blue in his gaze. “You were wearing the diamonds and the black robe I bought for you.”
She’d fallen asleep in that robe, and she’d kept the diamonds on—for him.
“You were curled up in my bed, looking so sexy you made me ache. I climbed into that bed with you. I held you because I didn’t want you to have another nightmare. I wanted you to know that you were safe with me.” His voice thickened. “I was with you. When Ben was killed, I was with you.”
There was a raw edge to his voice. Almost a desperation, but there was still no emotion on Trace’s face. She searched his gaze and believed him. “Find out who killed him.” Trace could do it. His company, Weston Securities, had nearly limitless resources.
Trace had found her when she’d vanished.
He could find Ben Sharpe’s killer.
“I will,” he promised her, and he let her go.
Her heartbeat was starting to slow down. The ache in her chest had eased.
Trace glanced around the studio. “Are you pissed?”
What? She blinked. He was going to ask that now?
“We can change it.” He straightened his tie. Not that it needed straightening. “Anything that isn’t right, the designers can fix. I just wanted the place to be ready for you. A-a wedding present.” His lips thinned. “But Reese called me…said you were angry.”
“I’m not.” Not any longer. “I like my present.”
The tension eased from him. She could see it vanish.
“But next time,” Skye added, “ask first.”
He nodded.
He started to walk away. Skye wasn’t having that. She grabbed Trace and pushed him back against the mirror.
His gaze widened in surprise.
Ah, there it was. Real emotion.
She pressed up onto her toes and leaned into him. “I don’t want you lying to me.” Her voice was a whisper.
“Skye…”
“It’s you and me. Us. Forever. No secrets and no lies.”
His hands closed around her hips. Now he was the one holding her in place. “What happens when you don’t like my secrets?”
“How do you know what I’ll like?” Her voice had gone husky.
He was too controlled, even then. There was a wall between them, one that she was determined to break. Skye wanted it to shatter, just like the mirrors around her could shatter.
One hard punch—shatter.
“I know who you want me to be.” The words seemed torn from Trace. “Let me be that man.”
“I want you.” Good and bad and everything in between.
In her darkest moment, he’d been there for her.
Couldn’t he see that she wanted to be there for him?
“You have me,” Trace said. “Always.”
Then he moved, lightning fast. He spun them around, switching their positions so that she was the one penned against the cold pane of the mirror. And his mouth was on hers, crushing down.
Not with careful restraint. Not with studied passion. But with wild, driving lust. His mouth was hard. His kiss demanding. His tongue thrust into her mouth and took.
He wasn’t treating her like a delicate china doll—the way he’d been treating her since the attack. Wasn’t holding her carefully.
The fire was there, exploding between them. The fire that she needed and wanted so badly.
She’d been cold, until then.
Lost, until then.
He lifted her up, holding her easily and pressing her back even harder against the mirror’s surface. His tongue thrust into her mouth again. His arms and scent and body surrounded her.
She wanted him naked.
Wanted to take and take until they were both lost.
Wanted everything—
Then she heard it. The shattering of glass.
One hard punch—shatter.
Her eyes flew open even as Trace jerked her away from the mirror.