Risky (Torn Between Two Lovers #2)(17)

“Why?”

“He was a laborer, and we were always barely scraping by. But he kept us fed and put a roof over our head.”

Trace looked at me sharply. “You cared about him. You miss him.”

I nodded. “Every single day since he died. I loved him, and he loved me.” I hadn’t known the warmth of parental affection since the day my father had left this earth, and I think I’d always miss it.

“I never really knew Karen,” Trace mused angrily. “None of us knew about you, Eva, or we would have come for you. Honestly, I only met your mother once, and that was at the wedding. All of us were surprised when we found out Dad was getting married. Sebastian and I were in college, and Dane was getting ready to leave, too. I guess Dad was lonely.”

“Why would you feel obligated to help me? You aren’t really family.” The Walkers had no reason to rescue me. Granted, I’d harbored resentment toward anyone with the name Walker, but they’d been just as faultless as I was.

“Because none of us are like your late mother,” he growled, sitting his drink on the table and standing up.

He grasped my hand and pulled me over on the couch with him. The wine still balanced in my hand, I sat reluctantly, letting him pull me closer to his body. I wanted to be there, but I didn’t. His scent filled my senses; his nearness made me want things I could never have.

I sighed as he took my wine glass and set it on the table next to his empty tumbler. For a moment, I let my body sink into his larger form, letting myself believe that he would have helped me, protected me, after my mother had left.

His arms tightened around me, and I laid my head on his shoulder. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes because he felt so damn good. It had been so long since anyone had actually cared about me.

“Thank you. It’s not your fault that you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t ask, and I hate myself for that.”

Tilting my head, I looked at the stormy expression in his eyes. “Don’t,” I said firmly, putting a hand on his face, reveling in the feel of his whiskered jaw under my fingers. “It’s not your fault, and I’m safe now. I have a job, and a future because of you.”

“Don’t be grateful to me,” he rasped, using his body weight to pin me down on the couch.

My head hit one of the throw pillows, and I stared up at his furious expression, just inches from mine. “I am grateful. How could I not be?” I would very likely be at a homeless shelter somewhere if I hadn’t gone to his office begging for a job.

“I don’t deserve it. I don’t pity you, Eva. I want to f*ck you.”

I knew that wrapping my arms around his neck was trouble, but I did it anyway. Fire was licking through my body, incinerating its way straight to my core. “Then do it, because the last thing I want is for you to feel sorry for me,” I whispered, tired of fighting the rampant attraction between the two of us.

The future didn’t matter right now. All I wanted was Trace. I knew I was only here to do a job, but I’d never felt this way about any man before. Carpe diem! Never had that expression meant more to me than right now. I wanted to seize the opportunity I had at the moment and not think about tomorrow.

I saw a flash of something resembling satisfaction as he lowered his mouth to mine. Then, I was lost in a world of crazy desire as our tongues and mouths fused in swirling desperation and insane need.

He kissed like a man possessed by a wild fury he couldn’t control. He held most of his weight off me, but I would have welcomed it. I wanted to climb inside him, feel our bodies meld and merge in the most elemental way.


I couldn’t get enough of him, and maybe one time with Trace wouldn’t sate my need, but I didn’t think about that. All I could do was…feel.

I panted as he pulled his mouth from mine. I wanted to protest when his weight lifted from my body, wanting to feel him again the moment he moved away.

Licking my lips, I could still taste his embrace as I watched him pull his sweatshirt over his head and dump it on the floor.

Sweet Jesus! He was perfect. Every flexing muscle looking like it was carved out of stone. His biceps had flexed as he’d relieved himself of his shirt, and his abs were so defined I could see every splendid muscle in his stomach and chest. Smooth skin that I was itching to touch was revealed, and I reached out for him with reflexive longing. I was desperate to see if his skin was as warm as it looked, and I was dying to trace the happy trail of dark hair that disappeared disappointingly into the waistband of his jeans.

“No, Eva,” he barked. “If you touch me, I’ll lose it.”

I wanted him to lose it; I lived to see him out of control right now.

“I want to touch you.”

He ignored my plea and sat me up to take off my sweater. It joined his shirt on the floor. I was giving thanks for Claudette as he removed the pink lacy bra I was wearing, releasing the front catch expertly. I shivered as the cool air hit my hardened nipples, letting him slide the silky undergarment down my arms slowly before discarding it in the growing pile of clothing on the floor.

“Beautiful,” he grunted, pushing me back down on the pillow.

I gasped aloud as his hot mouth met my sensitive nipple, sucking it into an ultra-hard peak. “Yes,” I whispered, unable to find my full voice.

He closed his fingers around the other tight bud, tugging with just the right pressure to cause a violent spasm in my core.