Mine To Take Part 12

What the h.e.l.l?

She shoved away from the seat, away from him. "No." Why did he have to know everything about her? Some shames were her own.

Skye tried to scramble back into her seat. Forget being graceful. She would just fall on her a.s.s if necessary. Whatever. Anything to escape.

But he didn't let her go. He pulled her back against him, and the long, thick bulge of his arousal pressed into her damp panties. "There's nowhere to run."

Not when they were nearly thirty thousand feet up in the air.

"And you don't want to run, not from me. I'm the one you ran to." His mouth was on her neck again. On that spot where her shoulder and neck met. On the spot that always made her weak.

She hated being so weak with him. So vulnerable. He shouldn't have such power over her body. Over her. He shouldn't- He's not the only one with power.

Determination filled her. She wasn't going to play his game. She'd show Trace that his need for her blazed just as hot as her own.

Her hands pushed between them. Found that heavy length of arousal. She stroked him through the pants that he wore. His c.o.c.k jerked beneath her touch.

"Skye..."

"The plane will land soon. I'm done talking." She'd been through enough. She unb.u.t.toned his fly. Unzipped his pants. No underwear. Typical for Trace. Her fingers closed around him, and she pumped his flesh. Once, twice.

Touching him turned her on. That was her weakness.

It was his, too.

His breath hissed out. His fingers pushed into her s.e.x again, thrusting hard and deep even as she pumped him. It was good, so good, hands stroking, caressing. She still had her skirt on. Her bra, her panties...he'd just shoved those panties to the side.

He was hot and hard and strong in her hand. Moisture gleamed on the head of his arousal, and she knew that just a few more- "Not that way," he snarled, the words dark and hard. "In you."

Her panties ripped. He lifted her hips. Her skirt swirled around them. He lifted her-and thrust deep.

He filled her completely with that one thrust. So full that she couldn't move for an instant. Her knees were on either side of his hips. One of her knees jammed into the armrest-she didn't care.

Trace started to move again. No, he moved her. Lifting her up, bringing her cras.h.i.+ng back down.

"Can you...stay quiet...?" He rasped the words as the black of his pupils spread in his eyes. "Or will you scream...for me?"

Her heart raced faster, seeming to jump from her chest. His hand was still stroking the center of her need, and he had her angled so that every thrust sent his c.o.c.k over her most sensitive flesh.

His open pants brushed against her legs. Still dressed. We're both- "I like it when you scream."

Her release was coming. Tightening her body. Spiraling up and blazing through her.

He thrust harder. Harder. His grip was so tight, she wondered if it might bruise her.

Then she- Trace drove deep.

She exploded with a release so hard and consuming that her whole body shuddered. A cry broke from her lips.

"Yes, h.e.l.l, yes." Trace found his own pleasure. A hot tide filled her as he came.

For a few moments, she couldn't see anything. She could only feel the pleasure that shook her body in hard, desperate waves. Her breath wasn't deep enough. Her heart couldn't slow down.

"So f.u.c.king beautiful..." He brushed back her hair. Kissed her.

Was that the first time he'd kissed her on that plane?

She blinked, and some of the darkness seemed to fade.

"We're about to begin our descent..." The pilot's voice floated to her. "Please make sure you're buckled."

Heat burned her face.

Trace just laughed.

She'd screamed. Right at the end there, she'd screamed for him.

Fumbling, Skye pulled away from Trace. Her panties were on the floor. She grabbed for them.

But Trace got to them first. His hand fisted around her underwear. "They're ruined. Don't worry. I'll buy you a new pair."

She sank into her seat. Her thighs were trembling. She could still feel him inside of her.

Her s.e.x kept contracting.

Her hands fumbled as she hooked the seatbelt. Skye squeezed her legs together as she tried to stop that trembling.

Very slowly, he readjusted his own clothes. He tucked her panties in his pocket. Trace kept his eyes on her. "That's the thing," he murmured.

"Wh-what thing?" Why did she have to stutter around him?

"You are afraid of me, but you want me anyway." His lips twisted in a smile that held no humor. "Sometimes I even wonder, do you want me because you fear me?"

The plane began to descend. She felt the slight change. "What kind of question is that?"

"I think you like my darkness, Skye. Because it's so d.a.m.n different from what you are."

She wasn't some kind of light to his dark. She'd never seen him that way. Actually, she saw things very differently.

He should see my darkness.

"You know what I'm capable of doing." His gaze seemed to see right into her. "I almost killed for you when I barely knew you. And now...now you know I would kill for you. In an instant, with no hesitation."

She didn't want to think about what he might do. "I didn't...I didn't come looking for you because I wanted you to kill someone." That wasn't who she was.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, and there was doubt in his deep voice. "Are you very, very sure? Think about it, Skye. Just what is it you want me to do to this man who is after you?"

The plane b.u.mped a bit. Her hands clamped down on the armrests. "I want him stopped. I don't want him dead."

"If he was the one who caused your wreck, if he tried to kill you...do you truly believe I'd just turn him over to the cops?" His gaze swept over her face. "You know me better than that."

She couldn't speak then. Because he was right. She did know him better than that. He might look like the successful businessman, but there was a primal intensity to him. Just below the surface, waiting to break out.

He nodded. "Now you see me, and I see you."

Her dance studio was going to open tomorrow. Skye stood in the middle of the cavernous room, her gaze sweeping across the mirrors that cast her reflection right back at her.

No more broken gla.s.s. Trace's men had taken care of that for her. There were no flickering lights. And every time the front door opened or closed, the new alarm system gave a rea.s.suring beep.

"Are you all done for tonight, Ms. Sullivan?"

She glanced toward Reese. Trace had insisted that Reese stay with her while she made all of her last minute prep work at the studio. And she certainly wasn't going to deny that having the guy with her had been rea.s.suring.

Because she'd been afraid when she first stepped inside the studio.

But I won't let him make me afraid. The studio was important to her. It was her dream, her chance at having a new life.

"I'm done." She was. The floor sparkled. The barres were all in place. Her new students would come in to a perfect dance studio tomorrow.

A small start. That was her plan. To begin with a few cla.s.ses and grow this place into the best d.a.m.n dance studio in Chicago. She could do it.

I will do it.

She approached Reese with a determined smile. "Thanks for all of your help."

He inclined his head. "Anytime."

She had to laugh at that. "I doubt that you usually provide guard service at a dance studio."

"You're a special case for the boss. What matters to him..." Reese shrugged. "It matters to me." He glanced down at his watch. "He'll be meeting you soon."

It had been almost twelve hours since she'd last seen Trace. He'd had his work to attend to, she'd needed to see to her studio. And...

I wanted some distance.

Because he'd left her shattered after that ride on the plane.

She headed out with Reese. Pausing for a moment, Skye reset the alarm. Then they were outside. The night air wasn't as cool as it had been a few days before.

A quick glance around the area showed her that only Reese's car was in the parking lot. Everything was dark and still and- Skye groaned. "I forget my bag. I'll be right back, okay?"

He grabbed her arm. "No, ma'am. That's not the way it works. I'll go back inside with you."

"You don't-"

"Boss's orders. Where you go, I go."

Right. She spun around and marched back toward the door. She unlocked the door and her fingers flew over the alarm pad. Reese was right at her back.

The door beeped when they slid inside. All of the lights turned on instantly.

"Just give me a minute!" She called over her shoulder as she rushed inside. "I left my bag-"

The lights shut off.

No, no that wasn't supposed to happen. Trace had hired electricians to fix the circuit breaker.

She spun back around. "Reese!"

Thud.

She stilled.

A groan reached her ears. Her breath choked out. "Reese?"

He didn't answer her.

She didn't move. Not a single step.

Then she heard something else. It sounded like-like water being poured out. Water?

"R-Reese?" She called again. The alarm hadn't sounded anymore. The system had just given that one beep when they'd gone inside.

Did we shut the door? Reese had been behind her. She'd rushed ahead, thinking he would shut the door.

Had he?

The water kept pouring around her. She took a deep, frantic breath and realized that wasn't water.

The acrid scent told her it was gasoline.

"No!" Skye shouted and ran forward. "Reese!" She tripped over something. Something soft and warm, and Skye careened to the floor. Her left leg twisted, and pain shot through her.

Her hands flew out. She touched a hard shoulder. Hair. "Reese?" Her fingers skimmed over his face and head, and she felt the sticky wetness of blood.

A light flickered in the darkness. A match. "I will be the one."

That voice chilled her.

The match flew through the air.

Then the fire ignited.

Trace slammed his Jag to a stop and jumped from the vehicle. His eyes were on the studio-on the horrifying orange and gold flames filling that studio.