Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1)

by Nicole Edwards

  “So when are you gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?” Z asked, his chocolate-brown eyes colliding with Ryan’s. Curiosity mixed with what looked like interest pinned Ryan in place.

  “Apparently now,” Ryan admitted, reaching for the iPad on the table and then handing it to Z. On the screen was the article he’d found last night. Offering Z a minute to get caught up, he asked, “You want somethin’ to drink?”

  “Water’s good,” Z said without bothering to look up from the screen.

  Ryan headed for the kitchen, both to get the water and to put a little distance between him and Z while he attempted to remind himself that lusting after Z wasn’t in anyone’s best interest. For all intents and purposes, Ryan was Z’s boss. Ryan was next in line to take over Sniper 1, and Z was an enforcer, one of their best, at that. He’d damn sure be better off not getting too carried away with himself. Especially if he knew what was best for all of them.

  So why was it he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care at the moment?

  Thirty-Three

  “That’s three!” Marissa exclaimed, laughing as she glanced over at Trace. He was frowning as he stared down at the screen of his iPad.

  “How the hell do you know all this shit?” Trace grumbled.

  “Luck. I’ve been gettin’ easy questions.”

  They’d spent the last couple of hours sitting in the living room on opposite ends of the couch, their toes touching while they played Trivia Crack. Other than the sound of her giggles and his grumbles, it’d been a relatively quiet evening, one that Marissa had enjoyed immensely.

  It wasn’t that beating him at a trivia game was what made her happy; simply spending time with him alone, doing normal, everyday things did that. More importantly, the fact that Trace had seemed to lighten up a little made her do the same.

  Not once had they mentioned who was after her, what they wanted from her, or any of the events of the past year. It was the here and now, two lovers enjoying some quiet time together.

  Marissa hadn’t had that in a really long time and it was nice. Very nice.

  “Another game?” Trace asked, his eyes lifting to meet hers.

  “Sure. Wanna put a wager on this one?”

  A devilish smirk tilted the corners of Trace’s succulent lips and Marissa’s mouth went dry.

  “What’re you thinkin’, darlin’?”

  “For every question you get wrong, you lose a piece of clothing,” she said, proud that her anxiety wasn’t reflected in her tone.

  “Game on,” he answered, his eyes locking with hers.

  Marissa hit the button to start the game. Worrying her lip, she read the first question and smiled when she got the answer correct. The next question was a little more difficult, but again she answered correctly. On the third spin, she landed on the crown and waited for her big question, selecting sports as the category since that was her worst subject. For her, the key was always getting those out of the way first.

  “Crap,” she muttered when she got the answer wrong.

  When she lifted her gaze to meet Trace’s, she found him grinning back at her.

  “You lose an article of clothing,” he informed her as he peered down at the screen.

  Marissa sat up and pulled her T-shirt over her head, keeping her eyes on him as she did. The way his eyebrows lifted made her insides churn. Teach him to tease her. Now he would have to answer the questions while she was sitting there without a shirt.

  Propping her iPad against her thighs, she watched him closely, enjoying the exaggerated expressions that fluttered over his face as he read the questions, his fingers hitting the screen every so often. She began to get worried after a good three minutes passed, but finally, his gaze rose to meet hers.

  “Your turn.”

  Picking up her iPad, she hit the button to bring the screen to life, noticing that he’d already gotten two crowns to her zero. Crap.

  But he still had to lose something.

  Without a word, he leaned forward, reached behind his neck, and pulled his T-shirt up and over his head in one decidedly sexy move. Her eyes trailed over his pecs, then down his rock-hard abs, watching as they flexed and shifted as he reclined once again.

  Turning her attention to the game, Marissa answered question after question, never getting lucky enough to get a crown until her three questions were answered correctly, but she’d managed to get three crowns completed before she missed another question.

  His iPad dinged, signaling his turn, and he smiled back at her.

  “Your turn,” she muttered, then reached behind her back, unhooking her bra with one quick flick of her wrist and then removing it, leaving it on the couch behind her.

  Trace’s eyes widened as he narrowed his gaze on her chest. Her nipples instantly puckered, her body warmed by the heat she saw reflected there.

  But then he pretended not to care that she was topless, turning his attention back to the screen and smiling as he did, which only made her laugh.

  Marissa watched him, tempted to cover herself but somehow managing not to do so while she waited for him to lose his turn. When his eyes lifted to meet hers once more, the smile that split his face had her pussy clenching with need.

  “I win,” he said roughly as he set his iPad down on the coffee table and sat up, his hips turning, his feet touching the floor.

  “What?” she questioned, glancing down at the screen to see that, yes, in fact, he had won the game. She flicked her gaze back up to him, finding him crawling over her. “You hustled me,” she accused, unable to keep from giggling.

  “Considering these jeans are the only thing I had left, I figured I had no choice.”

  Marissa squealed when he gripped the waistband of her leggings and abruptly pulled them—and her panties—down her legs, leaving her entirely exposed to his wandering eyes.

  Okay, so he wasn’t wasting time.

  “So pretty,” he mumbled as he inched her legs up, his shoulders sliding beneath her thighs as his face hovered precariously above her most intimate place. “And now, I’m going to see how you taste.”

  Marissa didn’t get another word out before his head dropped down, his lips grazing her mound, his fingers parting her labia. Her throat was suddenly desert dry, her breaths labored as she watched him.

  She had to admit, it was rather hot to watch him go down on her right there in the middle of his brightly lit living room, but all thought ceased when his tongue slid through her folds, grazing her clit.

  Her eyes instantly closed, but that didn’t last long.

  “Keep your eyes open, Marissa,” he growled, and her eyes immediately popped open, locking on his face. “I want you to watch what I do to you.”

  Nodding, Marissa swallowed hard, her eyes glued to the spot between her spread thighs where his head dipped again.

  Keeping her lids open wasn’t as easy as she had hoped, not with pleasure spearing her when his tongue once again began teasing her clit. Her hands fisted at her sides as she attempted not to reach for him, not to pull him closer, to grind herself against his mouth. An overload of sensation, a cataclysm of pure, unadulterated need coursed through her, making her light-headed, desperate for release. When he added one finger, thrusting it inside her, Marissa’s body seemed to separate from her mind, taking over as she soared, perched unsteadily just outside of herself.

  “It’s too much,” she moaned, trying to take it all in, to separate the various sensations as everything morphed into one single, mind-numbing euphoria filling her insides. “Oh, God, Trace.”

  Unable to resist, she reached for his head, clutching desperately as she held him to her, grinding against his mouth, moaning as her release built, starting as a warmth between her thighs, then traveling outward, tingling as it coursed through her, bringing her higher, higher still.

  “Trace!” Marissa screamed as her body imploded, her climax tearing through her, ripping her to shreds and leaving her sated yet still ravenous for this man.

  It was then that
she realized she truly would never get enough of him.

  □«»□«»□«»□

  Watching Marissa come was a newfound hobby, something Trace would never tire of. The way she embraced the sensation, giving herself over to the pleasure… He wanted to make her come a million different ways, cataloguing every response, every single reaction until he knew her body better than she knew did.

  While Marissa lay limp and replete on his couch, so fucking beautiful sprawled out before him, he managed to get to his feet. With ease, he lifted her into his arms, loving the way she wreathed his neck, burying her face against his shoulder while he carried her into his darkened bedroom.

  Unlike the first time they’d made love in his room, when he’d tied her to the bed and admired her exquisite body by the golden glow of the lamp, Trace wasn’t interested in restraining her, pushing her any further. No, tonight he was being selfish because he wanted to feel her, to be buried to the hilt inside her while she clung to him. And the dark would do because what he needed from her wouldn’t be received via sight, only touch.

  Lowering her gently onto the mattress, he retrieved a condom from the nightstand and quickly sheathed himself before joining her. Kneeing her thighs apart, he hovered over her, watching her as she watched him.

  He sensed that she wanted to tell him something, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear what she had to say, so he silenced her with his mouth, lowering his lips to hers, sliding his tongue inside, and exploring her softly until she moaned.

  Guiding his cock to the tight entrance to her body, he rocked his hips forward, pushing the head of his cock inside. He couldn’t stop there, the warmth enveloping him until breathing became strenuous, his senses overwhelmed by her. He continued to push into her while his mouth was fused to hers, her faint moans fueling him as he pressed deeper, not stopping until he was lodged completely inside her warm, wet depths.

  “Marissa.” He mouthed her name as he slid his lips along her soft, smooth cheek, then closer to her ear. “You’re so tight. You feel so good.”

  Better than good, actually. Like… Oh, God. Like coming home.

  “Trace.” The way she said his name as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, her legs embracing his hips, was nearly his undoing. And when she used her ankles to force him even deeper than he thought possible, Trace growled, the beast inside rising up with its need to dominate her, to own her mind, body, and soul.

  He began to rock his hips, impaling her before easing back and sliding home again and again.

  “That’s it, baby,” he urged, her inner muscles tightening around his cock. “Take all of me, Marissa. All of me.”

  And she did. As he continued to love her in the darkened room, Marissa clung to him, their bodies melded together, as much one as two people could possibly get, and Trace’s mind swirled with so many thoughts, so many dreams of what the future would hold for them. He wanted this every single day, every single night, to have Marissa safely ensconced in his arms. He loved her, there was no denying that, but he was too selfish to say the words. So he settled on showing her with his body.

  Sliding one hand beneath her neck, the other beneath her lower back, he held her to him, steadying himself on his elbows while he drilled into her, the soft warmth of her body drawing them closer and closer until he was lost in her. Her powdery scent infused him. The steady thump of her heart was the only thing he heard aside from her sweet moans.

  “Marissa.” He didn’t have anything else to say, just her name, but that seemed to be enough. She continued to hold him as she rocked beneath him, meeting every thrust of his hips against hers. “You’re so tight, so wet. I want to feel you come for me,” he whispered against her ear. “Come on my cock, Marissa. Come for me so I can come inside you.”

  Oh, fuck. Her muscles locked on him, her fingernails scoring his back while her ankles dug into his ass as she trembled beneath him.

  “Trace. Oh, yes. Don’t stop,” she told him softly. “Oh, God, yes. You feel so … good. So … right.”

  Nipping the sensitive skin near her ear, he urged her to come with words as he began to drive into her hard, slamming his hips against her, burying his cock into her body while his balls drew up tight, the urge for release consuming him. He was going to come, but he wanted her to come with him.

  “Marissa. Oh, fuck, baby. That’s it. Squeeze my dick. Oh, God, yes,” he groaned against her ear before nipping her again. “Fuck, yes. Come for me.”

  And when she did, when her pussy clamped onto his cock, milking him for all he was worth, Trace let himself go. But his release wasn’t the only thing he gave her right there in the shadows of his bedroom. No, right then and there, Trace gave Marissa what she’d had all along, but he had refused to believe.

  His heart.

  Thirty-Four

  Monday morning

  “Ally insisted that I bring this to you,” Clay informed Marissa when he was kindly allowed into Trace’s apartment after being good-naturedly grilled by Trace himself.

  “She’s an angel,” Marissa told her older brother, surprised to see him on Trace’s doorstep. She was pretty sure Trace hadn’t even been expecting him.

  For the first time in months, Marissa had slept for a solid eight hours, but she figured that had to do with the fact that Trace had held her in his arms throughout the night after they’d made love. Unlike many nights before then, she’d given in to the overwhelming exhaustion and trusted Trace to watch over her, which he had done.

  “I’ll tell her you said so,” Clay said.

  If Marissa wasn’t mistaken, her older brother was blushing. Not that she was going to say anything, because he definitely wouldn’t be happy with her calling him to the carpet. As it was, she knew that Clay had a thing for Ally, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want anyone to know.

  Seemed there was a lot of that going around these days.

  “Hey, man, you come over for a reason? Or you just impersonating a delivery guy today?” Trace asked Clay as he made his way through the living room, heading toward the kitchen. Trace was dressed head to toe in black today, a fashion statement all of the men who worked for Sniper 1 tended to gravitate toward. However, Marissa knew that was generally when they were going on an op, which left her wondering what his plans for the day were.

  “Are you going somewhere?” Marissa asked, glancing at her brother and then over to Trace.

  “Not yet,” Trace stated, not bothering to meet her gaze.

  Wondering what that was about but not wanting to question Trace in front of her brother, she turned her attention to Clay. “And what brings you by? I know it wasn’t just to bring me coffee.”

  Clay moved farther into the room. “RT called a meeting.”

  “Here?” Marissa asked, feeling slightly nervous that they’d all be meeting where she was being holed up.

  “No. Not here. That’d be too conspicuous.”

  It would. But that didn’t answer her question.

  “We’ll have a video call.”

  Marissa’s eyebrows lifted into her hairline as she waited for Clay to explain. He didn’t and her nerves suddenly got the best of her. Had they figured something out?

  As though planned—which she figured it had been—a phone rang, and Marissa noticed Trace’s iPad sitting on the small table in the breakfast nook. Trace headed toward the table, and Clay followed, leaving Marissa standing in the living room, wondering what was going on.

  “Hey, RT,” Trace greeted, and Marissa watched as her brother’s face appeared on the screen.

  Crap.

  “She there?” Ryan asked.

  “She is. So is Clay.”

  “Where’s Z?”

  As though summoned by the sound of Ryan’s voice, the front door opened and in walked Z. He moved with purpose, his gaze sliding over Marissa briefly as he headed toward Trace and Clay, who were both standing in the kitchen. Was he upset with her?

  Figuring she wasn’t going to get answers to any of her q
uestions until she gave in and joined them, Marissa wrapped both hands around her coffee cup, wishing it was hot enough to ward off the chill that had once again filled her insides.

  “Have a seat,” Trace said, his tone as icy as his gaze.

  Marissa slid into the chair that he held out for her, facing her brother on the screen.

  “This call secure?” Clay questioned.

  “It is,” Ryan confirmed.

  “What’s up?” she asked, trying to sound confident. Unfortunately, the quiver in her voice gave her away.

  “I was doin’ some research yesterday and I ran across an article,” Ryan began.

  “We already discussed the article,” Marissa answered.

  “Not that one.”

  Marissa was glad Ryan wasn’t sitting in the room with them. She was pretty sure his angry glare would’ve burned her to a crisp.

  “The other article, Marissa.”

  Well, hell. That didn’t sound good. Rather than pretend not to know what he was referring to, she simply nodded, followed by, “And?”

  “Marissa, I think it’s safe to say that it’s time to stop playin’ games.”

  “And what games do you think I’m playing?” Marissa countered, hating the condescension in her brother’s voice.

  Trace cleared his throat, causing Marissa to look up at him. He didn’t look any happier with her than Ryan did.

  “It’s time you told us what you know,” Trace stated firmly. “Everything you know.”

  Marissa frowned.

  “Marissa,” Ryan said, drawing her attention to the screen. “We’ve spent the last year chasing shadows. You know it; we know it. All because you didn’t bother to tell us what you knew.”

  “It wasn’t because I didn’t want to,” Marissa said quickly. “I didn’t—”

  “Don’t lie to me, Marissa,” Ryan growled.

  “I’m not lying!” she exclaimed. “And what does it matter to you? I’m the one who was sent away. I’m the one who had to endure the terror that someone would find me. I’m the one who spent months alone without my family. Not you, Ryan Trexler. Not you or anyone else. I’m the one who was in danger.”