Mine to Keep

by Cynthia Eden

  pants fell. Her panties—she threw those at him.

  He caught them in a tight fist. “I never want to hurt you.”

  She stood before him, naked. “The first time I came to see you in this office, I was terrified.”

  His eyes blazed an even brighter blue. “The first time you came to see me, I wanted to strip you and fuck you on my desk.”

  Her hands tapped on said desk. “Right here?”

  “Yes.” A hard growl.

  “Then I guess you’re about to get your wish, aren’t you?” She smiled at him and she touched herself, letting her hands slide down her stomach. Down to—

  Trace grabbed her. He spun her around, turning her toward that desk. Her hands flew out and this time, her palms hit against the hard surface.

  He was behind her. Fully erect, the head of his cock thrust toward her. She spread her legs. She arched against him.

  He held her easily. Didn’t enter her yet, damn him. Just let her feel him, all around her. “If I get too rough,” he rasped out, “tell me to stop.”

  “I’ll scream it,” she promised, her own breath panting.

  His fingers stroked her. Pressed against her clit. Drove her insane.

  “Trace!”

  He plunged into her, slamming balls deep. Yes! He withdrew. Plunged deep again. Harder. The thud of flesh hitting flesh seemed to fill the room. Again and again.

  She was so wet for him. So eager.

  Thunder rumbled.

  Deeper, deeper. She pushed back against each thrust, trying to take as much of him as she could. Her orgasm beat down on her. Her muscles tightened. So close. Just right—

  “Ah, baby, you didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Trace whispered against her ear. He stilled.

  Her sex clenched tightly around him, holding him in a desperate grip.

  His mouth slid to her neck. He licked. He kissed.

  His teeth pressed against her in a sensual bite. “Now,” he rasped against her skin. “You’re going to give me everything.”

  He withdrew. She cried out. “No, Trace—”

  In a flash, he had rolled Skye onto her back. The wood of the desk pressed into her. Her legs hung over the edge of the desk. Her legs were open, her sex desperate for him.

  “Remember…tell me…” Trace gritted out.

  That was all he said. Because as she stared up into his eyes, she could see his control break. The blue turned wild in its brilliance.

  He thrust into her. Deep.

  His hands caught hers. He locked them to the desk, holding them on either side of her. He held her, controlled her completely, and all Skye could do was take the pleasure that he gave to her.

  Helpless, trapped.

  Again and again, he drove into her body. She’d thought that was she was slick before. Now—“Trace!”

  He yanked her closer to the edge of the desk. Her legs lifted and locked around his hips. The orgasm was there, the pleasure already starting to crest through her.

  Trace kissed her. His mouth was hot. Open.

  She came around him, exploding on a release so powerful that she shuddered.

  But he didn’t stop.

  His thrusts came faster. They were even harder, lifting her body. She tightened her hold around him, trying to catch her breath.

  “You’re not done, Skye.” He locked both of her wrists in one of his. Kept them secured above her head. His left hand slipped between their bodies. He stroked her clit again. Pushed her and pushed her until she screamed.

  But she didn’t scream for him to stop.

  She screamed Trace’s name.

  He came, surging into her with a hot release that had him shuddering.

  Only he didn’t stop.

  He kept thrusting. His release made her even more sensitive to him, and his cock stretched, filling her, sliding over flesh that was desperate for more.

  Insatiable.

  Only for him. Only for—

  He lifted her off the desk. Held her in his arms. Lifted her easily. She’d always known he was strong. But this—

  “Squeeze me. As hard and tight as you can.”

  Her inner muscles clamped around him.

  “Yes!” His eyes were still wild. “Want…more…want…all…”

  He took her against the wall then. Her shoulders hit the surface, but she didn’t care. He’d freed her hands, and her nails scratched down his back.

  He was holding her hips now, lifting her up again and again. Forcing her to match his rhythm, forcing her to take and take.

  She didn’t have the breath to scream when the release hit her this time. She shuddered and trembled in his arms. Then she fell against him, limp, as her heart raced.

  He still wasn’t done.

  Trace kept thrusting. A fast, hard tempo that she couldn’t match. The tender lover was gone. She looked up and saw that his face was cut in hard lines of need. Primitive lust. Her arms wrapped around him, and that was pretty much all her exhausted body could manage.

  His cock was so full. Big and thick, filling every inch of her. Her sex was swollen from her orgasms. With every thrust, she was on the brink of more pleasure…or pain?

  The line was there, so hard to determine. Because the feelings coursing through her were so strong. So dark and powerful.

  He erupted. “Skye!” His orgasm went on and on, and she was lost as she seemed to fall into the abyss.

  Not pain.

  Only pleasure.

  Only…Trace.

  ***

  Navy Pier. The place was normally a tourist’s dream, but, in the middle of a night-time thunderstorm, the place was deserted.

  Drake stood at the end of the dock, staring out at the glistening water. Lightning flashed in the dark sky. Bright strobes that lit the waves.

  Anna Jean.

  She’d been his worst mistake.

  And he hadn’t even managed to kill her.

  Drake turned away from the water, hunching his shoulders against the rain that continued to fall in heavy blasts from the dark sky. He’d screwed up back then—when he’d screwed her. But he’d never met another woman like Anna Jean.

  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 fucked 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 fuck’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.”

  The line ended.

  What. The. Hell?

  Chapter Fourteen

  “He’s insane!” The woman screamed the instant she saw Trace and Skye. “He has a gun!”

  Trace shoved open the door to Skye’s studio. He made sure she got inside first, then he turned to confront Drake. “Have you lost what little sanity you had?”

  “No, I found it…when I found her.”

  Drake pushed the woman inside.

  Trace made certain that he secured the lock behind them all.

  Skye hit the lights, and the illumination flooded down on them, giving Trace his first good look at the woman.

  This just keeps getting worse.

  The woman—a drenched redhead with flashing green eyes—was as pale as death. Her high cheeks gave her a hallowed out, frightened look—or maybe that look just came from the absolute terror that was reflected in her eyes.

  “H-he tried to drown me,” she whispered. “Then he put his g-gun to my—”

  Drake shoved the gun into his waistband. “I found her at Navy Pier. Right before some asshole slammed a board into the back of my head and dumped me in the water. Now she won’t tell me who her partner is, but the lady did confess to one thing. According to her, she’s Anna Jean’s sister.”

  Trace studied the woman’s face. “Yes, I can see the resemblance.” The eyes weren’t the same shade of green, and her hair was the wrong color. Anna Jean’s face had been more classically beautiful. Cold perfection—that was what he’d thought of when he saw Anna Jean.

  “What in the hell is happening down here?” A snarling voice demanded. Then footsteps thudded down from the upstairs apartment.

  And Noah appeared.

  Noah?

  Claire was right behind him, peering nervously over his shoulder.

  Noah’s gaze darted over to Drake and then that golden stare narrowed when he saw Drake’s guest. “You.” He lunged toward the woman. “Anna Jean.”

  “No!” The woman cried out as she tried to back away from him, and she thudded into Drake. “I’m not. My name’s Piper! I-I’m her half-sister.”

  Noah’s doubting gaze swept over her. “Nice trick. Got some collagen in your lower lip. A nose job. Died your hair.” He peered at her. “And I’d wager those are contacts, just to make your eyes look a little different, right?”

  “No!”

  “Bullshit. I saw you walk away today. I know that walk. I know you. You always were a good actress, Anna Jean. Too good.”

  Her frantic green stare flew around the room and locked on Skye. “Help me,” she begged. “This isn’t why I came here. I-I needed to talk with you.”

  “So talk,” Trace invited.

  Skye edged around him. “Talk to me.”

  The woman’s chest shuddered. She glanced over her shoulder at Drake, then her terrified stare came back to Skye. “Y-you’re in danger,” she said. “I-I had to tell you. You needed to be warned.”

  Trace stiffened. “Did you just threaten her?”

  “No, Trace,” it was Skye who answered, her voice calm, “she didn’t.”

  The woman—Piper or Anna Jean or whoever the hell she was—told Skye, “You have to get away from him.”

  Skye glanced back at Trace.

  “He’s a killer,” the woman threw out,
breath heaving.

  Skye already knew that.

  “He…he was my sister’s lover. He killed Anna Jean, and I’m afraid he will kill you, too.”

  The hell, no.

  ***

  All of the players were assembled. They’d gathered. Drawn in close.

  Now it was time for the chaos.

  Time for vengeance.