Mine to Take by Cynthia Eden Page B

social workers had come for him…
how long had I been without food then?
    His old man loved to use his fist. His mother…she loved to use her bottles.  She’d drowned out reality and hadn’t cared when her son cried.
    “I pulled myself out of the past,” he told Skye, making sure he kept his hold gentle. With her, he tried for gentleness. Only for her. “These days, I can afford any damn thing I want.”
    “What you want…”
    His fingers drifted down her throat. She had such a sensitive neck. Once upon a time, he’d kissed her there, and she’d melted for him. “What I want is you.” Being near her drove him fucking insane. Having her scent—sweet vanilla—wrap around him. Having her silken skin beneath his fingers.
    She wasn’t telling him no. Wasn’t pushing him away. Instead, she stared up at him with need in her green gaze. “I thought…I thought we came here to figure out who was after me.” Her words were a whisper.
    “We did.” But it was nearing 3 a.m.  New York might be the city that never slept, but they still couldn’t go pounding on doors right then. Better to wait.  Head out in the morning.
    Waiting left them with the night.
    His fingers eased under the heavy curtain of her hair.   Her breath caught on a little rasp that was the sexiest sound he’d heard in years.
    “Tell me you haven’t thought about us.” Even though she’d been with others.
Fucking bastards.
When she’d told him their names, everything had gone red for him. Other men, touching
her.
He wanted to wipe the memory of their hands away.
    Trace wanted her to only think of him.
    Before the night was over, she would.
    “I won’t lie.”  The snow fell lightly behind her. “I’ve thought about you more times than I can count.”
    Good. Because every damn night when he closed his eyes, she was the one in his dreams. 
    Her hand rose. Curled around his wrist. “And I think about the way you told me…
to get the hell out of your life.
”
    Trace didn’t let his expression alter. 
    “You stopped wanting me, Trace, not the other way around.” She yanked his hand away from her. Marched around him. “Since you got the bell hop to leave my bags in the master bedroom, I’ll take that room.” She wasn’t looking back at him. “With forty-five hundred square feet, I’m sure you can find some other place to crash.”
    Every muscle in his body locked down. “I never stopped.”  His control seemed razor thin right then, and that was dangerous. He’d intended a seduction for her.
    The wild hunger he’d held in check wasn’t supposed to break free.
    Not yet.
    Her laugh was bitter. Not like Skye at all. “Right. That’s why you came after me, huh? Why I’ve seen you pictured with dozens of women over the years? Because you wanted…”She glared over her shoulder, “
me
so much.”
    Maybe he wasn’t the only one eaten by jealousy. Maybe there was some hope for them after all.
    “Want me to prove how much I want you?”  Nothing could have kept him away from her in that moment. He’d talked to her doctor before he left Chicago. Skye was safe. The concussion wasn’t an issue. She could sleep.
    She could fuck.
    She was most definitely about to get fucked.
    Skye rounded on him. “That isn’t—”
    He kissed her. There was simply no holding back. He’d waited until they were alone. Waited until he had her in the suite with him.
    Waited…waited ten long years.
    There was no more waiting.
    Unless Skye told him no, unless she didn’t want him, he would have her.

Chapter Four
    She should push him away. Skye knew her hands should lift and shove against Trace’s chest. Those traitorous hands
shouldn’t
be lifting and curving around his shoulders.
    She needed to push him away.
    Not pull him closer.
    But she wanted him closer.
    She. Wanted.
Him.
    Her emotions were too raw. Maybe it was the city. Maybe it was Trace. Maybe she was just too scared and too tired of being alone. 
    But when his tongue thrust into