“Marissa.” The way he said her name was meant to be a warning, she was sure.
It didn’t stop her from moving even closer. When she stood just a few inches in front of him, she stared at him, wishing she could see him better, but for now the cloak of night was probably the only thing giving her courage.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She wasn’t exactly sure whether she was apologizing for scaring him with her screams or for showing up at the edge of his bed, hoping for something from him.
“For what?”
Leave it to Trace to want her to clarify.
He was staring up at her; she could feel the heat of his icy gray gaze along her skin. Unless he had an eerie sort of night vision, she knew he couldn’t see her any better than she could see him, but she suddenly felt naked although she was fully covered from neck to ankle.
“For waking you,” she answered, unsure what she was supposed to do or say now.
“You didn’t wake me,” he said, his tone gravelly, as though he’d been gargling sand. Was that because of her? Did she affect him the same way he affected her?
She didn’t say anything, wishing he’d pull her into his arms of his own accord, shelter her in his heat, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask for what she wanted.
She inched a little closer and a warning rumble came from his throat.
“You need to go back to bed,” he said, his words clipped.
“I don’t want to,” she told him, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her own heart.
“You need to.”
That sounded as though he needed her to more than she did.
“Why?”
Trace didn’t answer her. He didn’t move as they stared at one another, the heat engulfing them both. A firestorm of need that had been refuted for far too long. It was stronger than she was, and she was beginning to wonder whether Trace had the ability to hold out any longer.
“Go. To. Bed.” Trace’s words were low, an animalistic rumble. As though he were trying to hold himself back and failing.
Or at least that’s what Marissa wanted to believe. What if he really didn’t want to have anything to do with her? What if he was trying to spare her feelings and she was about to make a world-class fool out of herself?
No.
She’d seen the passion in his gaze earlier that morning when he’d come dangerously close to kissing her in his kitchen. He wanted her. He just didn’t like that fact.
“No.” Wow, had she really said that? So adamantly?
“I’m warning you, Marissa. I can’t do this.”
Can’t. That’s what he’d said. Not don’t want to or something along those lines.
Moving another inch closer, Marissa’s knees grazed his, and even through the cotton of her leggings, the brief contact sent a tsunami of pleasure crashing through her.
Trace growled. This time the rumble was clear; his intentions were clear. He was hanging by a thread, and damn it all to hell, for once, just once, she wanted to push this man as far as he could go.
And that’s what she intended to do.
Twenty-Five
From the moment Marissa had walked through his bedroom door, Trace had been clenching his fists, praying she would turn around and go back the way she’d come from. His self-control was shot. The tattered thread of his restraint was quickly unraveling, and he was about to do something that Marissa would likely regret in the morning.
So why did she keep pushing him?
“I don’t want to leave,” she whispered, and Trace fought the urge to reach for her, to toss her on the bed and climb over her, hard angles against soft curves, while he devoured every inch of her luscious body.
“You need to,” he assured her, trying to hide the need in his voice.
There were only so many warnings he could give, and clearly she wasn’t heeding any of them. Which left him crumbling in the face of his hunger for this woman.
She didn’t dispute him. Rather, she shook her head slightly, letting him know in the intimate shadows of his bedroom that she knew what he was after. And she wanted it, too.
“Last warning,” he told her roughly. “If you don’t turn around and walk away, I’m gonna bury myself inside you until you’re beggin’ me to let you come. Understand me, Marissa?” His voice was rising, his threshold long since surpassed as he willed himself not to take her the way he wanted.
She’d been through too much. More than he could fathom, and he was supposed to be protecting her, yet what might happen in a matter of seconds would likely break them both more than anything she’d endured.
“I’m not leaving,” she said firmly.
Trace’s muscles locked. Her defiance astounded him, made him want to dominate her. To show her just what he was capable of, the pleasure he could and would wring from her body if she followed through.
He had long since passed want, or mere desire, and he was quickly barreling toward succumbing to the cravings that had plagued him for far too long. She was everything he wanted and everything he had denied himself. The moment his hands touched her flesh, he’d be a goner. And right now, he could only pray that she understood that.
“Make it go away, Trace,” she pleaded softly. “For however long you want, just make it all go away.”
Sonuvabitch!
Trace was up on his feet, his naked body pressed to hers, his hands cupping her face as he lifted up slightly, forcing her up on her toes as he ravaged her mouth with his. This wasn’t a gentle, reassuring kiss. It was a promise of what was to come, an introduction to the fierce, uncontrollable yearning that he had for her.
“Goddammit, Marissa,” he growled, unable to disguise the hunger. “I want you so fucking bad it hurts.”
“You have me,” she assured him, her soft tone spiked with what sounded like an answering passion.
Pressing his forehead to hers, he looked into her eyes, the ice blue barely visible in the dark room. “This is your last chance, sweetheart. You know all those rumors you’ve heard about me?” Trace paused, waiting for her to answer him.
“Yes.”
“They’re all true. Every last one of them, baby. And I assure you, one night will never be enough for me. I’ll have you a million different ways and the cravings will never subside.” He was telling her the truth, hoping like hell that one of them would come to their senses before he opened the floodgates and there was no way to turn back.
“I want you.”
“Well, you’ve got me,” he breathed out roughly, mirroring the words she’d said to him only moments before.
Before he had a chance to think it through any longer, he was crushing his mouth to hers, giving in to the greed that had consumed him since the first time he’d thought about Marissa naked beneath him. She was a fantasy that never abated, one that only intensified over time, and one that he fully intended to explore from this moment forward.
Turning her in his arms, he pulled her up against him, her back to his front as she faced the bed. He nestled his face against the smooth skin of her neck, kissing her softly, desperately trying to hold on to his control before he ruined everything.
Calming himself slowly, Trace slid his palms up the outsides of her thighs, making his way to the hem of the sweater he had watched her change into earlier in the day. Should he or shouldn’t he? It was the question that didn’t matter because there was only one answer.
He needed her.
Lifting slowly, he allowed his fingers to graze the soft, smooth skin he revealed as he inhaled her fresh scent, continuing to place kisses along the sleek column of her neck.
That was the moment he realized he’d lost the battle. He was giving in. Every ounce of his control was gone. And that’s when the world came into focus again, and a much-needed calm surrounded him.
Marissa.
He’d waited so long for this.
There was no hurry. Morning would come soon enough, and as far as he was concerned, he’d be lodged deep inside of her body
when the time came. Until then, he was going to get intimately familiar with every creamy, delectable inch of her. Even if she might regret this come tomorrow—which he prayed she wouldn’t—Trace could no longer deny himself.
After grazing his knuckles over her nipples, Trace proceeded to pull the sweater up and over her head. Stepping away from her for a moment, he tossed it onto a lone chair in the corner and then flipped on the lamp beside the bed. There was no way in hell he was going to miss this. His imagination would have nothing on the reality, and he wanted to memorize her with all of his senses.
Stepping behind her once more, he placed his hands on her flat stomach, pulling her into him as he pressed his aching dick against her lower back, grinding gently, the friction causing tremors to course just beneath his skin.
When Marissa pushed back against him, he sucked in a breath. She was going to be the death of him, he could pretty much see it now.
Refocusing his attention on her, he moved north, his hands sliding over her ribs to the underside of her breasts, then higher, hefting the weight gently as he did. “How much do you like this bra?” he asked.
“It’s not one of my favorites,” she told him.
He had no idea whether that was the truth or if she just knew what was about to happen. Either way, he was taking her at her word. Gripping the edge of the delicate cups, he yanked, the fabric tearing easily, her breasts spilling from the lacey confines. Without pausing, he gently pinched her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, both at the same time, until she gasped, her head falling back against his shoulder.
“Yes,” she hissed, the softly whispered word urging him to continue.
Cupping her breasts, he gazed over her shoulder, mesmerized by the dusky pink nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. He continued to tease her, pinching her nipples simultaneously as he squeezed gently. He wasn’t interested in hurting her, merely wanted to push her beyond the realm of pleasure and into mind-numbing euphoria.
“Do you like when I pinch your nipples?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.
Leaning down, he nipped her earlobe with his teeth as he watched his bronzed hands against her creamy, alabaster skin. A stark contrast that made her femininity all the more alluring. “I’m going to tell you everything I do as I do it. Do you think you can handle that?”
Marissa nodded her head as she tilted forward, watching him pull and twist on the hardened nubs while he continued to squeeze the glorious mounds.
“Put your hands on mine,” he instructed. When she placed her hands over his, he slipped his out from underneath and pressed hers against her breasts. “Play with your nipples. And don’t be gentle, either.”
She immediately pinched her nipples, plucking them as she groaned.
“Beautiful.” And fuck, that was such an understatement. Marissa was one of the most sensual women he’d ever met, and this wasn’t the first time he’d thought that. Until tonight, he’d only fantasized about what he’d do to her, but right here, right now, this was far beyond anything he’d imagined.
He expected Marissa to want moonlight and wine, candlelight and silk sheets dotted with rose petals. Never in his wildest dreams would he imagine she’d be so open to the raw, hedonistic pleasure that he sought.
“I plan to taste them.” Trace continued talking softly as he slid his hands beneath the waistband of her leggings, forcing them past her hips slowly. “I plan to suck them and then nibble on them until you’re writhing beneath me, begging me to let you come.”
Marissa moaned, her fingers stilling on her nipples.
“Don’t stop,” he urged as he squatted behind her, lowering her leggings to the floor and waiting as she stepped out of them.
Holy hell. The lacey pink thong was barely existent, yet it was surprisingly demure and erotic all at the same time. He intended to rip it from her body, but not until he played with her some more.
Unable to resist, Trace pressed open-mouthed kisses against the soft, warm globes of her ass, one then the other. Reining in the overwhelming urge to rush things, he nipped her ass before standing to his full height once more.
Grazing his chest against her back, his rigid cock was pressed between their bodies, begging for attention he didn’t intend to give it for a while. Right now was all about her. He was a greedy man, but self-gratification wasn’t what he sought. His sole objective was to bring her pleasure, make her come apart at the seams, begging for more while she thought she couldn’t handle another second. That’s where his pleasure came from.
“Beautiful,” he whispered against her ear. “So fucking sexy, just as I’ve always known. You make my dick hard, Marissa. I’ve wanted you for so long, denied myself the sweet taste of you because I didn’t think you could handle what I can give you.”
“I can handle it,” she assured him, although he wasn’t quite sure she knew the full extent of his intentions. When she dropped her head back against his shoulder once again, he placed his fingers over hers, forcing her to apply more pressure to her nipples.
He breathed in roughly as he said, “I definitely intend to see just how much.”
□«»□«»□«»□
Marissa felt scorched from the inside out, and this was only the beginning. The rough, callused slide of Trace’s hands across her skin left tingles in their wake, making her want more, crave more. Need more.
When Trace had ripped her bra, the heat that had consumed her earlier had intensified tenfold, a warm, insistent throbbing starting between her legs. And the more he spoke, the hotter she burned until she worried her temperature rivaled that of a million suns.
She’d heard rumors about Trace. Lots and lots of rumors. Some she had believed before tonight, some she hadn’t. But right here, clad in only her panties and what was left of her bra, she had to wonder whether they were all true. According to him, they were. And based on the way he was playing her body, at the moment, she sort of believed him.
Marissa had had only a few lovers in her life, her abstinence mostly due to the isolation she was forced into for her own safety. She had a penchant for her vibrator and didn’t shy away from porn, which led to plenty of self-induced orgasms, but nothing compared to this.
Nothing.
Trace took her hands and pulled them away from her body, freeing her nipples from the clamp of her fingertips. He moved forward, forcing her to move with him, edging closer and closer to the bed. She waited patiently, hoping he would tell her what to do next, because oddly enough, giving herself over to his demands was refreshingly freeing.
“Put your hands on the bed and don’t move,” he commanded, his hands gripping her hips and moving her closer to the bed still.
Palms down, Marissa bent at a ninety-degree angle as she supported herself on her hands while Trace roamed his palms over her butt, the thong she wore offering absolutely no protection from the blazing fire of his touch. A shiver raced down her spine as she remembered the way the heat of his mouth against her bare bottom had felt moments ago. She wished he’d do it again because even the erotic pain when he nipped her had been incredible.
She wanted to spread her legs, to encourage him to the spot that would light her up like a pyrotechnics show, but she could tell he wanted to take his time. Considering she’d waited what felt like her entire life for this moment, Marissa wasn’t interested in rushing things, either.
“Oh, God,” she moaned. It was an involuntary reaction to the way his big hands gripped her, kneading her butt cheeks, separating them and then squeezing them together.
“Such a beautiful ass,” he growled, the words guttural and laced with something that sounded a lot like longing.
Yes, she’d heard rumors that he enjoyed kinky sex, and the most kink that Marissa had experienced was when she used her vibrator while watching porn on television in her living room, rather than getting herself off in the dark safe haven of her own bedroom. She got the impression that what she’d thought of as taboo wouldn’t
hold a candle to what Trace had experienced.
Surprisingly, she still didn’t shy away from him.
Maybe it was years’ worth of hormones coalescing, churning into a vibrant, heated jumble that burned her from the inside out. Or possibly just the sexy, arousing way that he looked at her, touched her, spoke to her.
“Are you wet for me, Marissa?” Trace asked as he slid his hands around her hips, over her thighs, and between her legs. He didn’t move higher, merely let his work-roughened palms scrape deliciously over the delicate skin on the insides of her thighs.
“Yes,” she said, trying to stay with the moment, to prove to him that she was into this as much as, if not more than he was.
The shy, guarded side of her told her not to speak, not to beg for more. But the part of her that craved Trace Kogan took the lead, making her want things she didn’t even know she could want.
“Good,” he said, seemingly satisfied with her response.
His fingers moved higher, slipping underneath the elastic edge of her panties right near the heart of her. There was no hesitation on his part, but she got the feeling he was going slow to offer her the opportunity to change her mind.
She didn’t intend to change it. Not when she was in the one place she’d dreamed about for so long. The power of Trace’s impressive body surrounding her, the intoxicating scent of him—a combination of man and a light, spicy hint of cologne—penetrating her senses. It was everything she’d imagined it would be and then some.
“Nice and wet,” Trace grumbled against her ear. “Just how I want you.”
A violent tremor shook her entire body, the impact of his words making the desire intensify. She loved the raspy sound of his voice, the way he told her what he was doing as he was doing it. She needed that connection, the piece that proved he was right there with her, holding her as she hovered precariously on the brink of a passion unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) Page 22