Mine to Take (Mine #1)(4)
When she danced…
She made him ache.
“There’s nothing for me in New York any longer.” Her voice was stilted. Not Skye. Skye spoke with humor and life. But when she’d come into his office, finally come back to him, there had been fear in her voice—and in her eyes. “I was in an…accident.”
“I know.” The story had been all over the news. The prima ballerina who’d been trapped in the wreckage of her car on a storm filled night. She’d danced for thousands, she’d lit up the stages in New York.
And she’d barely survived that crash.
He forced air into his lungs. Don’t think about it. She’s here.
“I’ve had physical therapy on my leg.” Said with grim pride as her chin—slightly pointed—came into the air. “I can dance, just not like…not like before.” She gave a little shake of her head. “The stage won’t be for me any longer.”
“That’s why you came home?”
Home. The only home he’d ever had—it had been with her.
Two foster kids. Tossed through the system again and again. He’d met her when he was seventeen. She’d been fifteen.
“That’s why I came back to Chicago,” she agreed, voice husky. “I’m saving money to open a studio. I’ll teach here. I can still do that.”
Her dancing had gotten her out of poverty. Into the bright lights of studios and stages in New York. Her dancing had given her a new life.
And taken her from his.
“The money is a problem.” She wasn’t looking at him anymore. He wanted her eyes on his.
He leaned toward her. Caught her hand.
That made her gaze fly right back to his. “I’ll find a way to pay you,” she told him. “I can do it, just give me some time.”
His going rate—for his newest junior agents, not for his personal services because he didn’t go into the field any longer—was three hundred an hour. “We’ll work it out.”
He had plenty of plans for her.
His fingers threaded through hers. His hand swallowed hers. His skin was rough and dark, tanned from the time he spent in the sun. Her hand was pale, almost fragile. So very breakable.
Hadn’t he always thought that about her? From the first moment he’d seen her, when he’d rushed into that room, hearing her scared cries…
Don’t, please don’t!
She’d been his to save then.
His.
“What are you thinking about?” Skye whispered.
“The way it used to be.”
Her lashes were long. Her dark green eyes were so sexy. Her breath slipped out a little too quickly. “I wasn’t sure you’d even remember me.”
Only every damn minute. There were some things a man could never forget.
“You should have come to me sooner.” He hated to think of her out there, afraid.
Alone.
“The last time we spoke,” her voice seemed to stroke right over him, “you told me to get the hell out of your life. Coming back wasn’t easy.”
The car slowed.
His jaw had locked. You’re not getting away so easily this time.
“I think we’re here,” she said and tugged on her hand.
He didn’t release her. “You said you didn’t have a lover.” Good. He didn’t want to think of her with some other bastard.
Her gaze held his.
“You will, Skye.”
She shook her head. “Trace…”
His name was a husky murmur from her. Denial and need all tied together.
Her lips were too close. She smelled too good. Sweet vanilla. Good enough to damn well eat.
He took her mouth. Not gently. Not softly. Because he’d never been that kind of guy. Trace knew he wasn’t the tender lover type.
He’d fought for every single thing that he had. He’d keep fighting.
His tongue thrust into her mouth. She tasted even sweeter than she smelled. Her lips were soft and lush, and she was kissing him back. A low moan rose in her throat, and her tongue slid lightly against his.
He’d been the one to teach her how to kiss.
And to f*ck.
He deepened the kiss, needing more, so much more from her than he could get right then. She’d come to him because she was afraid, but he wasn’t interested in her fear. He wanted her passion. He wanted her.
She pulled back. Her lips were wet and red from his mouth.
His addiction. The one that he’d never been able to ditch.
No matter how much money he got, no matter how many women came into his bed, Skye was the one he wanted, the one that he would have.
There was a price for everything in this world. He knew that lesson well.
Skye would pay a price.
So would he.
It was a good thing he could afford that price this time.
She nearly jumped from the car when he let her go. He exited slowly, far too aware of the ache for her—and of the arousal that wasn’t going away.
Sunlight glinted down on him. Early spring, but still cold because that was the way of his city. He ignored the chill and stared up at the apartment complex. Older, in a more rundown area just outside of the city.
When she’d been in New York, her place had been so much bigger—so close to the lights of Broadway.