Trace of Fever

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Trace of Fever Page 25

by Lori Foster


  “I’m so glad.” Priss started slipping down to her knees, and Trace knew he wouldn’t last. Not beyond a minute. Maybe not beyond the first touch of her sweet mouth.

  He tried to go easy, to keep from clenching his fingers in her hair, but the second he felt her breath he was a goner. Her tongue touched him tentatively, exploring, and he suffered a hot surge. “Don’t tease, Priss. I can’t take it.”

  She said, “Mmm,” and her mouth opened on the head, sliding over him, enclosing him in moist heat. He stiffened all the way down to his toes.

  Holding him in her fist, Priss took more of him, almost to the base of his shaft, and he lost it. She might be a novice, but her innocence was more of a turn-on than experience could ever be. He knew he would be her first in so many ways, but this—this had been reserved for fantasies.

  With his hands in her hair, Trace held her close, guiding her, showing her how he needed her to move. A ringing sounded in his ears, his limbs trembled, pleasure exploded and he came with a groan of bone-deep satisfaction.

  Only vaguely aware of her taking everything from him, swallowing, moaning in her own excitement, Trace eased her away.

  As Priss reluctantly released him, he dropped down to sit beside her, his back against the wall, his thoughts blessedly cleared and his body no longer on fire. He labored for breath, and tried to think.

  Almost purring, Priss snuggled against him like a content little cat. “That was pretty neat.”

  Pretty neat. God, it wasn’t to be borne. Putting an arm around her, Trace mustered up common sense. “We have to get out of here.” He squeezed her to his chest in a brief hug. “I swear I’ll not only thank you properly, I’ll reciprocate—”

  “Reciprocate?” She perked up at that idea, then blushed. “You mean…?”

  He could hardly wait. “Yes, but that’ll have to be later. Right now, I need you to change into your regular clothes. You have something here in the room, don’t you?”

  Frowning, confused and maybe a little hurt, she nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good. After you’re dressed, get together everything. Don’t even leave behind a hairpin.”

  “I don’t own hairpins.”

  Her disgruntlement made him smile. She was so incredibly sweet and unique, sensual and independent. And far too daring. He touched the corner of her mouth, then had to kiss her. “I’ll be back in minutes, and then we’ll get out of here.”

  She caught his hand as he stood to leave. “Trace?”

  Damn, she was beautiful. He pulled her to her feet, kissed her again, quick and hard. “I need you, Priss. You, not just quickie relief—though I swear, what just happened is something I’ll never forget.”

  “Really?”

  How in the world could she look complimented by that? “Really. But the drugs haven’t worn off, and I’m far from done, and you’re the only woman I want.”

  Her expression brightened more. “The only one?”

  Trace laughed. After the night he’d had, it was the most absurd of reactions, but still, he laughed again. “We need privacy, honey. And a bed. And I need you naked.” He cupped his hand to her cheek. “Let me help Jackson, and then we can get out of here.”

  She turned away to the closet. “I’ll be ready when you are.”

  Never in his life had Trace expected to find such an…accommodating woman. In so many ways, she matched him, when he hadn’t thought that was possible. Until meeting Priss, he’d marveled at how easily Dare had settled into marriage, because it had seemed such an unachievable dream to him. But now…he wasn’t sure a lifetime with Priss would be enough.

  She made him laugh, when genuine laughter had been missing for so long from his life. Drugged or not, she turned him inside out wanting her. And though he’d kept many innocents from becoming collateral damage, he’d never once felt for any of them the same powerful mix of emotions that Priss wrought.

  Even as he helped Jackson stow Helene in the trunk of his car, Trace continued to marvel over Priss and her reactions.

  She accepted the violence and danger inherent in what he did, handled herself well in times of stress and uncertainty, and she’d not only gone to her knees for him, she’d seemed pleased by the whole thing.

  Jackson closed the trunk of his car with Helene inside. Through the pounding rain, he searched the surrounding area. “I think we’re all clear.”

  “Yeah.” But he wouldn’t completely relax until he found out how this played out with Murray. Moving back into the shadows under an overhang, Trace said, “Call me when you’ve dealt with her.”

  “Sure.” After a couple of seconds with only the sounds of the rain and wind Jackson asked, “You two going to be okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  He rubbed his chin, either fighting off another grin, or not accepting Trace’s reply. “The thing is…Priss is sort of…well, she’s not like other ladies.”

  Slowly, Trace turned to stare at him.

  “Why are you mean-mugging me? I’m not saying that with any personal interest or any shit like that.” Jackson sluiced the rain off his forehead. “Look, I just meant…”

  “What?” Trace tried to tamp down the absurd anger, but couldn’t. Even the chilly rain didn’t affect the heat of his possessiveness. “What did you mean?”

  “Fucked if I know.” Jackson made a sound of disgust. “Forget I said anything.”

  Realizing he was being an ass, Trace stopped him from taking off. “Wait a minute.”

  His impatience obvious, his brows raised, Jackson waited.

  It rankled, but still Trace said, “Thanks for taking good care of her.” He motioned lamely. “With everything, I mean.”

  “Yeah. No problem.” Jackson gave a silly salute. “It’s what we do, right?”

  No, taking naked women from the shower was definitely not in the job description. Trace shook his head. “I appreciate your concern for her. I do.” This was ridiculous. “It’s just that—”

  “I get it.” Jackson clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m a guy, remember? Just stay on your toes because I have a feeling that one will keep you guessing.”

  No kidding. “I don’t suppose you could—”

  “Strike the memory of her naked from my brain?” He winked—and stepped out of reach. “I’d lie and say sure, but you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

  It was more than any man should have to bear. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

  “Then I don’t have to disappoint you.”

  Jaw tight, Trace nodded to the car. “Know what you’re going to do with her?” He hoped Jackson had a plan other than dumping her in the river, because Trace was fresh out of ideas.

  “Yeah, I figured when she started to come to, I’d take her to an off-the-grid bar and leave her there. She’ll look inebriated going in, and once the drug wears off, well, the drunks will be at her mercy.”

  “That works for me.”

  “Then I’ll get to it before she comes around.” Jackson clapped him on the shoulder again. “Tell Priss I said goodbye.” Grinning, he got in the car and circled the lot before driving away.

  From the shadows at the back of the hotel, Trace kept watch until Jackson was out of sight. Without it being said, he knew Jackson would go into the bar disguised so no one would ever be able to trace Helene back to him. She could tell any story she wanted to, but she’d have no proof. And anything she said would only incriminate her more once Murray found out what she’d done.

  For a few minutes more, Trace waited outside. There were no out-of-place shadows or noises, no suspicious people or vehicles.

  Now he could see about getting Priss moved elsewhere, and he could be alone with her.

  Finally, he could have her.

  He didn’t need a drug in his bloodstream to get him excited over that prospect.

  TWO HOURS LATER, WITH ONLY a few phone calls, Trace had everything arranged. He’d heard from Jackson that Helene was no longer a problem, and he had them settled safely into a differ
ent hotel on the outskirts of the town. This hotel was upscale, and they’d checked in as a married couple.

  Trace seemed right at home, and although Priss felt very out of place, she was still content.

  Sure, the circumstances were horribly skewed, and before long there would be grave consequence for the events of the night. But Trace had been so attentive that she didn’t have any regrets.

  Well, maybe except for Jackson seeing her naked. That would leave her red-faced for a good long time.

  But other than that, she’d come through it all unscathed, and so had Trace. If anything, she’d forged a special closeness with him now.

  Rain battered the bedroom windows of the suite, and storm clouds left the night black as pitch. “I know he said things were resolved, but what did Jackson do with Helene?”

  Trace glanced up as he unloaded his variety of weapons on the nightstand. “Other than the jolting you gave her, she’ll be all right. Don’t worry about it.”

  Still not trusting her. She sighed, but accepted the evasion. The more she learned of Trace, the more she understood his need for confidentiality. “I’m sort of glad that…you know…you guys didn’t kill her.”

  He went still for a moment before continuing. “There was no reason. Killing her would have only complicated things with Murray.” He pulled off his wet shirt and tossed it over a chair, then sat on the bed to remove his shoes.

  That jittery, hungry rush hit her again. Trace was the most appealing man she’d ever seen. That he was also strong and heroic was enough to melt her bones.

  “No reason to complicate things more.” Priss noticed that his hands were shaking again. No doubt the effects of the drug, which seemed to come in waves.

  He looked up at her. “If killing her becomes necessary, it’ll happen, Priss. You do understand that?”

  “Yes.” And she wouldn’t lose any sleep over it, either. But for now, tonight, given what she hoped and assumed would happen, it was a relief that no one had died.

  Trace stripped off his socks. “Your shirt is wet, Priss.” He watched her with cool control. “Take it off.”

  Her breath catching, Priss stared at him. He looked enigmatic as he stood to turn back the bed. Wearing only open slacks again, he looked incredible.

  And she wanted him.

  Without the necessary urgency of earlier, nervousness took over. Not nervousness from fear or even uncertainty. She trusted Trace and she wanted him. But this was all so new. To even feel like this was an aberration for her.

  Leaving her shirt on for the moment, she sat in a chair and removed her sandals. “Did Helene say what she gave you?”

  “Just that it’s something she developed for the victims.” He kept his back to her, but his hands tightened. “To make them easier to deal with.”

  Foul bitch. Maybe they should have killed her after all. “She’s as evil as Murray, isn’t she?”

  “Yes she is. Sick and evil.” He twisted to face her. “Thank God Jackson got to you before she did.”

  “You should have let me keep jolting her.” Rather than think about how Jackson had found her, Priss stood and, determined not to balk, pulled off her top. “She deserved it.”

  “True.” Trace walked over to her and caught her hands when she started to open her jeans. “But you didn’t deserve to be a part of that.”

  Priss decided she’d argue that point with him later. Helene had openly insulted her mother, so she deserved a lot.

  When Trace simply held her hands out to her sides and looked at her, Priss asked, “Are we going to have sex now?”

  His mouth twitched, and his gaze warmed, but he sounded dead serious when he said, “Yeah, I think we are.” He lifted his attention from her stomach to her face. “Is that okay with you?”

  “Yes.” More than okay. She licked her lips. “Will you kiss me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Before he could do that, which would surely distract her, Priss asked in a rush, “Do you want me mostly because of the drugs?”

  With far too much concentration, he moved long ropes of wet hair off her shoulders. “Is that what you think? That drugs are what make you appealing?”

  “I don’t know.” Her brain had been in a tailspin ever since hearing Helene’s voice on the phone, knowing she was with Trace, and hearing what she intended to do. Then finding him like that, ready, hurting, needing relief… “It seemed to me that you were sort of trying to resist the whole sexual chemistry until…well, until the drugs made it impossible.”

  “Silly Priss.” Trace held her face and kissed her. It was a long, deep, tongue-twining kiss that left them both breathing deeply. “If all I wanted was relief, I could handle that alone.”

  Her eyes flared. Was he saying…admitting… “I suppose.” Why was she blushing? He was the one who’d said it.

  And he didn’t look the least embarrassed. Very matter-of-fact, actually.

  “That, uh, that wouldn’t be as much…fun. Right?”

  A slight smile went crooked. His thumbs brushed her cheeks, the corners of her mouth. “I could also find a willing woman easily enough.”

  “I’m willing.”

  His grin widened before he got it under control. “I meant a woman other than you.”

  Her temper sparked. “I’m not sure I like where this is going.”

  “Fact is, Priscilla, the drugs are still with me. I can’t deny that. And yes, I was trying to avoid getting too involved with you. You have so damn many secrets that it makes my head swim.”

  Of all the nerve. “I have secrets?” She pushed his chest. “What about you!”

  Almost laughing, he contained her hands and pulled her closer. “Truthfully, I want you. With or without drugs.” He brushed another, softer kiss to her lips. “But if you’re having second thoughts, if you’re not sure about this, I can go into the shower, take care of business and then we can get a good night’s sleep.”

  Take care of business? Even though she blushed again, Priss said, “I wouldn’t mind watching that.”

  “No.”

  Hmm. “Maybe another time, then.” She tipped her head back and smiled up at him. “No second thoughts, Trace. I swear. I want you. Right now.”

  Relief showed in his hazel eyes. “Good.” He slipped his fingers under the shoulder straps of her bra and peeled it down. His gaze was so intense, so hot that she felt it. For the longest time he just looked at her.

  “Trace?”

  “Damn, you’re beautiful.” And then he bent and drew her left nipple into his mouth.

  It was wonderful. Amazing. She felt the stroke of his tongue, the pull of his mouth, all through her body.

  He seemed in no hurry now to get on with it. In fact, he took his time, switching to her other nipple and drawing on her, teasing with his teeth until her knees went shaky.

  Even when it felt too powerful, too concentrated to bear, his arms locked around her and kept her from pulling away. She could feel his erection again, as big and hard as before. Hoping to encourage him to haste, Priss moved against him, pressing and stroking.

  He released her with a low groan. In the next second he had her lifted up and carried to the bed. He laid her flat and went to work on her jeans.

  “You have protection?” Priss asked as her jeans got shoved to her knees, then down off her ankles, leaving her in a displaced bra and her panties.

  “Yeah.” He kissed her belly, her navel, lower.

  Wow.

  “I figured we’d get together sooner or later, and I don’t take chances.”

  “Responsible men are so sexy.”

  He laughed, and given that his mouth was against her, it tickled.

  Priss twisted to unfasten her bra and fling it away. “Take off your pants.”

  “Not yet,” he said in a rush, staring at her breasts. He breathed harder. “If I do that, I’ll lose control, and this is your turn.”

  “My turn?” She wasn’t idiot, so she had an idea of what he meant, how she felt a
bout that. Her stomach flip-flopped and her nipples ached.

  Trace slipped his big hand into the front of her panties, touching, seeking. His eyes closed as his fingers parted her. “I want your climax to be a foregone conclusion, because once I get inside you, Priss, I’m not going to last.”

  “You aren’t?” That sounded intriguing—not that she could dredge up a lot of rational thought while he played with her.

  “Just relax and I’ll explain everything.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  TRACE FORCED HIMSELF to pull back. Priss watched him with wide, curious eyes, her body shimmering in excitement. Reminding himself that this was her first time, that she’d been through hell tonight, and that she had a lot of emotional baggage, he gathered himself as much as he could.

  He slid his fingers under the waistband of her tiny panties, then said, “Let’s get rid of these, okay?” He pulled them down and off her long legs. After dropping them off the side of the bed, he slowly drew a hand from her ankle to her knee, then up the inside of her thigh until he covered her pubic curls with his palm.

  She bit her lip, but said nothing.

  Trace sat on the side of the bed, looking at her, breathing in her scent, thinking of all he wanted to do to her and with her.

  “I feel exposed.”

  His gaze lifted to hers. “You are exposed.” Frowning, he asked, “You aren’t worried?”

  “No.” She drew a couple of quick breaths. “It’s just that you’re looking at me like…like you’re examining me or something.”

  “I don’t want to miss anything.” He bent and kissed her navel. “You’re beautiful, Priss.”

  “Matt did a good job.”

  He smiled. “Agreed, but Matt has nothing to do with this.” He kissed her belly again. “Or this.” Stretching out beside her, he kissed her breasts. “Or this.” He moved his fingers between her legs, parted her and, watching her face, pressed one finger in.

  Her hips lifted. “No.” She sounded a little shrill. “Matt has nothing to do with any of that.”

 

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