Trace of Fever (24 page)

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.

T
WO 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 different 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 about 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.”

T
RACE 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.
”

“I’m glad.” Gently, Trace fingered her. When she gasped, he bent to her mouth and kissed her, slow, eating kisses that only made him want her more.

Having Priscilla Patterson naked on a bed in a private room, her green eyes heated, her long reddish hair in disarray around the pillows, her long legs open and her breath coming fast…that was as close to heaven as he’d ever get. And for that moment, he thought the rest of the world could damn well wait. He needed this. He needed her.

She gripped his shoulders and her nails, only recently manicured, sank into his skin.

He loved that, too. Damn, there wasn’t much Priss did that he didn’t love. Even her stubbornness turned him on.

“Oh, God,” she suddenly whispered as she put her head back, her body stiffening, trembling.

Trace realized she was close and it not only amazed him, it triggered his own lust. He crowded over her, teasing her nipples with his teeth and tongue while keeping his finger in her, his thumb moving over her clitoris.

She tightened, gripping him, her body getting hotter, wetter. He couldn’t wait to taste her, but for now, this would do. He withdrew his finger, and worked two back in. Tight. So damn tight.

Bending one leg, Priss clenched, cried out, and then she was coming, her hips moving against his hand, heat pouring off her body. Trace took her mouth, swallowing down her moans and relishing every sound, every move.

Even after she quieted, he kept his hand between her legs, idly now, but unwilling to leave her.

“Oh, God,” she said again, lazily this time.

Trace knew she needed a little time, but he couldn’t accommodate her. Not yet. Not tonight.

He withdrew his hand and, watching her beautiful face, lifted his fingers to his mouth.

Through shallow breath, she whispered, “Trace?”

He kissed her parted lips, light and easy. Then her chin. He opened his mouth on her throat. Her breasts.

He wanted to consume her.

Settling her hand in his hair, she said, “I think I need a minute.”

“Sorry.” Thunder roared in his ears; waiting even a second more was as impossible as not wanting her. He teased her navel with his tongue, put a soft love bite on her taut little belly, and dipped down lower.

“Trace.”

Nuzzling into her, he inhaled her spicy fragrance. Overwhelmed by her and what she made him feel, he pushed her thighs wider, parted her with his thumbs, and stroked his tongue into her.

Her recent climax had left her wet, and he loved it, but it wasn’t enough. He stroked in again, holding her still when her hips lifted off the bed and she moaned.

He wasn’t an inexperienced kid. He sure as hell wasn’t a virgin. He’d had his fair share of sexual experiences, ranging from awkward to kinky and everywhere in between.

But this all felt so new, because everything with Priss was different.

When he licked up and over her clitoris, she cried out, her thighs closing on his ears, her fingers tight in his hair. Such honest reactions, and so hot.

He drew her in, sucking gently, working her with his
tongue, and within minutes she was coming again. Long, ragged groans told him how much she enjoyed this. He pressed his hips tight to the mattress and concentrated on not losing control. It wasn’t easy, not with her so wild. It went on and on, until she gave a soft sob.

“Trace, no more.” She inhaled shakily. “I can’t.”

Turning his face, Trace kissed the soft flesh of her inner thigh, lightly bit her again.

She moaned. “Will you please get naked?”

Yeah, he would. Pushing up and off the bed, Trace stripped off his pants and his boxers and left them there on the floor. Feeling Priss watch him with dazed eyes and curiosity, he grabbed for his wallet, and found a rubber. “Only one, damn it.”

“I have more.”

He looked at her in amazement, then shook his head and rolled on the condom. “I won’t ask.”

She gave his words back to him. “I figured we’d get together sooner or later, and I don’t take chances.”

Going along, Trace stole her sentiment, saying, “Responsible women are so sexy.” It amazed him that either of them could still think enough to banter. When he turned back to the bed, she opened her arms to him, and he was gone. “Very sexy.”

He didn’t think it was the effects of the drug anymore. Now it was all Priss, everything about her, that made him uncontrollable with need.

As he moved over her, she naturally parted her legs for him. They fit together perfectly, her tender thighs cradling his hips, her breasts cushioning his chest, her mouth there for him.

“Like this, right?” Priss laced her arms around his neck, locked her ankles at the small of his back.

“Yeah.” Closing his eyes, Trace tried to go slow, to ease into her. But she was so wet, so hot, and she lifted
against him, urging him on. “Yeah,” he said again, and pressed partially into her.

She caught her breath and tensed. He looked at her, but her eyes glittered with desire, not pain. Cupping a hand under her bottom, he lifted her more. Against her mouth, he said, “Tell me if I hurt you.”

She swallowed, nodded. “It’ll hurt if you stop.”

“I won’t.” Hell, he couldn’t. With every inch he sank into her, he lost more control. Her muscles were flinching, clenching, milking him and making him nuts.

“I won’t break, Trace. I promise.”

He groaned, and thrust into her. Squeezed by silky tightness, he withdrew and thrust in again. And again.

Holding on to him, Priss made small sounds of pleasure and surprise, then deeper sounds of excitement.

“You’re…bigger than I expected.”

“God, Priss…” He almost laughed. “You don’t know enough about men to judge my size.”

“I’ve seen plenty of movies, remember?”

Trace put his face in her neck. “Can we talk about that later?”

She tightened around him. “Yes.” And then a few seconds later,
“Yes.”

A third time? He lifted up to look at her and saw the flush of her face, how her teeth sank into her bottom lip, the vagueness in her green eyes. Amazing.

“Let go,” Trace ordered softly.

As if the words freed her, Priss softened on a moan. Her heels pressed into the small of his back, her thighs hugged him, her body arched—and she took him with her. The release was mind-blowing, draining him of need, and stripping him of tension. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew Priss wasn’t done yet, so he managed to stay with her until her legs fell away from him and she went utterly limp beneath him.

They struggled for breath together, their bodies damp, scents combined.

A gentleman would have moved off her; Trace couldn’t. He didn’t have the strength and, besides, he liked having her like this. It might have only been days, but it felt like he’d waited a lifetime to get her under him.

She proved she felt the same when she roused herself enough to kiss his sweaty shoulder, then flopped back, arms and legs sprawled out like a starfish. She looked suspiciously close to sleep.

Tenderness left Trace smiling, when he hadn’t thought he had the energy for that. Not kissing her proved impossible, so he tipped up her face and brushed his mouth over hers.

Her eyes didn’t open, but she said, “If you’re thinking of doing anything more, I swear, I need a nap first.”

The reminder of her exhaustion brought home all the trouble waiting for them. Murray would hit the roof when he discovered Helene’s perfidy—and it was anyone’s guess who would be the recipient of his rage. How that’d affect Priss…he just didn’t know.

But he wouldn’t take any chances on anything happening to her. From here on, she was out of the picture. Trace didn’t care what conclusion Murray came to, but Priss wouldn’t see him again.

With Priss out of the way, he could handle Murray. He could handle Helene, too.

Hell, he could handle just about anything…except losing her.

P
RISS WOKE SLOWLY
. Unfamiliar aches reminded her of where she was, what she’d done and whose hairy leg had her pinned in place.

Trace.

She smiled without opening her eyes. Through the
long night, Trace had awakened her twice more. He’d taken her over the side of the bed, his hands holding her breasts, his mouth on her shoulder while he went so deep that she’d felt wild.

Later he’d lain on his back, her riding him, and he’d watched her intently while she came. It was both unsettling and intimate and very exciting. Seconds after she collapsed over him, he’d held her tight and gained his own release.

She was now sore in places she’d never noticed or thought about. She was also so content that it was hard to remember she had a plan, a duty and revenge to fulfill.

The sooner she wrapped up her business with Murray, the sooner she could concentrate on Trace.

Wondering about that, what the future might hold, she turned her head and found Trace watching her.

He looked so serious that it startled her. “You’re not sleeping?”

“No.” When his fingers moved, she realized that he had his large hand cupped over her breast. His gaze went to her mouth. “How do you feel?”

Oh, she knew that look only too well now. Much as she’d like to jump his bones—again—reality took over. “Sore. In need of coffee.” She winced, hating to disappoint him. “And I have to pee.”

The heat dimmed in his amazing hazel eyes, replaced with humor. “I should have realized.” After he kissed her shoulder, he said, “Go on. I’ll get the coffee ready.”

“Thank you.” But she hesitated. She was naked. He was naked. And now, with morning sunlight slanting through a break in the curtains, well…it was different.

One brow lifted and he rose up to an elbow. “Feeling shy?”

“Maybe a little.”

His grin warned her seconds before he whipped away
the covers. She smacked at him, but that only got her kissed again. “Come on.” He left the bed and pulled her up with him. “Do what you have to do, then come back to bed. We’ll drink our coffee there.”

“I think I need a shower.” The excesses of the night had left her a little sweaty.

Trace hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

She didn’t understand his quick agreement until she was in the shower, hot water easing the aches of her body. The curtain pulled back and Trace, still naked, handed her a cup of coffee.

She’d touched his body everywhere, tasted him all over and yet, seeing him again, even without the kick of caffeine, left her taut with renewed interest.

She reached for the coffee cup, got about half of it gulped down, then stepped back. “Care to join me?”

Already stepping in, he said, “I was going to insist.” He took the cup from her and set it outside the tub, closed the curtain, and reached for the soap.

“What are you going to do?”

“Bathe you.” He turned her so her back was to his chest, the water sluicing over her breasts. “You hadn’t danced, hadn’t made love. I’m guessing no one has ever pampered you, either.”

The feel of his soap-slick hands sliding down her body made her eyes heavy and her breath shallow. “No.”

“Good.” His erection nudged her backside as he whispered, “Then I can be first at this, too.”

O
VER AN HOUR LATER
, after they’d run out of energy, Priss curled up against Trace in the bed. She loved how familiar it already felt to be with him like this, her head on his shoulder, his hand curved over her hip.

Staying like this for…oh,
forever
…would be heavenly. But they both knew reality would soon interfere.

Priss hated to ruin the moment, but it wasn’t in her nature to stew in silence. And after the closeness they’d shared in the last twenty-four hours…well, she felt she deserved a few answers.

A hand on his chest, her leg over his, she tipped her face up to see Trace. “What are you really doing with Murray?”

Though his gaze slanted down at her, he stayed stubbornly silent. After all the tenderness, the intimacy, his lack of trust was almost palpable. Considering she could still taste him, and her heart still pounded with excitement, that should have been insulting.

But for whatever reason, it wasn’t. Trace was who he needed to be in order to keep others safe, to rescue them from horrendous situations. She got it, more now than ever.

“You need me to go first, huh?” Her hand stroking his chest hair, Priss said, “I can understand that.”

When dealing with Murray and his ilk, trust was an elusive thing.

She drew a breath, and burrowed closer to Trace’s heat. The confession she needed to make left her throat feeling raw and her chest tight. But it had to be said.