Just as he knew everything about her.

He lowered her onto the bed. Came down with her. Surrounded her.

“I’ll make you happy,” he promised. “We can have everything.”

Skye shoved her doubts and fears away. This was Trace. They’d survived hell before.

They could survive anything that came their way.

“I already have everything,” Skye said softly, and she didn’t mean the necklace that seemed to be such a heavy weight against her skin.

Trace didn’t strip. She expected him to, but he didn’t. His hands became harder, rougher on her. He pulled her to the edge of the bed.

His fingers slid between her legs. One yank, and her panties were gone. He stroked her, caressed her, had her own fingers twisting in the bed covers as the need grew within her.

But…

He’s too careful.

Since the attack, he’d always been that way when they had sex.

She didn’t want care.

She wanted fire.

Lust.

Need.

He unzipped his pants. Put his cock right at the entrance of her body. Trace leaned over her. “Forever, Skye.”

Her eyes locked with his. Her hands grabbed him, and her nails dug through the fabric of his shirt, sinking in with a sensual bite.

“Forever,” she agreed, and her hips surged toward him just as he thrust into her.

She lost her breath then. He stretched her, filled her so completely. He tried to pull back, to go easier.

“I won’t break,” she said, panting out the words. “Faster, Trace, harder.” Because it was what she needed.

His gaze never left hers. He gave her what she wanted.

Fast.

Hard.

But he was in control. Every moment. She could feel it in the tight movements of his body. See it in the hard clench of his jaw.

She wanted him out of control. Wild.

But he wasn’t letting go.

“Trace!” His name was a demand.

His head bent. He jerked her bra out of the way and put his mouth on her breast. Licked. Kissed.

She felt the light edge of his teeth on her.

Skye erupted. Pleasure blasted through her, and she held him as fiercely as she could.

His movements roughened. His hips pistoned against her. Close—close—he was almost losing his control. Skye just needed to push him over that edge.

She wrapped her legs around him.

He came with a shout. His eyes flashed, seeming to go blind for an instant. He shuddered, his body curving over her. He was still standing at the edge of the bed.

Still dressed.

Still holding all the control, even in his moment of release.

Skye stared up at him, lost.

She’d been lost with Trace from the beginning.

There was no going back. Not for her.

Not for him.

He pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “I knew you’d be gorgeous in diamonds.”

The diamonds were beautiful, but Skye didn’t care about them. I only care about him.

He withdrew from her. Tenderly took care of her and even tucked her under the covers.

But he didn’t join her.

“Get some rest,” he told her, voice gruff. “You’re safe, and you’re home.” He smiled down at her. “Our life is just starting…”

***

His life was ending.

Ben Sharpe ran down the busy Chicago street. Rain beat down on him, the storm erupting suddenly from the sky.

Weston hadn’t taken his warning seriously.

He’d tried to help the man, but Weston hadn’t wanted to hear his words.

Weston hadn’t wanted him there at all.

He didn’t want me near her.

It was just as bad as Ben had feared. Weston’s weakness was right there, and the man didn’t even realize it.

Skye Sullivan would be his downfall. Weston needed to protect himself, to back the hell away from her.

Before it was too late.

***

Trace shut the bedroom door.

He could smell Skye’s scent on his skin. Sweet vanilla. He could feel her silken flesh beneath his fingers.

He wanted to go back in that room, to wrap his arms around her and hold her through the night.

But first, he had to take care of some unfinished business. Business that would not be allowed to touch Skye.

He hurried down the hallway. Grabbed his phone. In seconds, he had Reese on the line. “Where is he?” Trace demanded.

Lightning flashed outside of his windows. The storm had come up so suddenly.

“He’s about to hop the train. I tried to get the guy to stay at a motel.” Disgust and anger thickened Reese’s voice. “But the fool took a punch at me.”

Trace’s back teeth clenched. “Keep your eyes on him until I can meet up with you. I’m leaving now.” He glanced toward the hall. Skye’s soft heart would be a problem. Because she looked at Ben Sharpe, and she saw her own mother.

But Skye’s mother had been dangerous.

And so was Ben.

You won’t get near Skye again.

Reese was still talking, giving Trace intel about the train and Ben’s location.

Trace left the penthouse. The elevator descended quickly to the parking garage.

Once upon a time—a lifetime ago—he’d saved Ben Sharpe’s life.

Once upon a time…

***

Thunder crashed.

Skye jerked up in bed, her heart racing.

She was alone.

“Trace?”

He didn’t answer her call.

She rose, grabbed for her robe.

She still had on the diamonds. They still felt too cold.

Her fingers closed around the bedroom doorknob. She twisted it, and the door opened with a creak of sound. “Trace?” She tip-toed down the hallway.

He didn’t answer. Lightning flashed just outside of the windows, long jagged streaks of light.

Trace wasn’t there.

Skye stopped in the den, then she turned to the big-picture window, and she watched the storm rage.

***

Another alley.

Ben ran forward, his boots hitting the rain puddles and sending mud flying around him.

He’s tracking me. The bastard is coming after me.

He had to run faster.

His breath sawed from his lungs. For an instant, the buildings around him vanished.

When the thunder rolled, he heard it as gunfire.

Another place, another time.

He looked down, and the mud was gone. The pot-hole filled alley was gone.

He saw snow. Blood. Death.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

The voice whispered from the darkness.

His head jerked up. He reached for the knife at his belt.

Gone.

Weston had taken the weapon. He hadn’t given it back.

Ben reached for his ankle sheath.

Fuck me, gone! He’d left Weston’s place without his weapons. Stupid, stupid mistake.

Ben straightened. “I-I was trying to help—”

A blade shoved into his chest. “You should have stayed away.”

Rain pelted down on Ben.

And his blood dripped into the mud around him.

Chapter Three

“Where were you last night?”

Trace glanced up at the soft question. Skye stood just inside the kitchen, staring at him with her deep green eyes. She had on yoga pants and a loose top.

She looked sexy as sin.

“Trace?” She lifted a dark brow.

He put down his coffee. “You want something for breakfast? I have a chef on call here, and I can get—”

“I want to know where you were last night.” She walked toward him. Skye had a soft, graceful stride. She’d been made to dance. And even though she didn’t want the stages of New York anymore—

“Trace.”

He smiled at her, enjoying the bite in her voice. “I had business to take care of.”

“Business…like with that man, Ben?”

Yes. “He won’t be bothering you again.”

“He never bothered me. What bothered me was you. Or, more specifically, you not telling me about your past.”

And he wouldn’t tell her. Trace forced a careless shrug. “The past is dead and buried. I told you before, I only care about our future.”

Her lips tightened. The woman had gorgeous lips. Full and red, and so wonderfully soft. He could kiss her for hours.

For a moment, he thought she’d argue with him. Skye braced her delicate shoulders and she said, “I’m going back to my dance studio today.”

He blinked. Ah, tricky lady. She’d thrown him off. But he nodded. “Of course, Reese can drive you and stand guard while—”

“No.” Her voice was flat and adamant. “I can get to the studio by myself, and I don’t need any sort of guard.”

His hands braced against the table. “After what happened to you—”

“The man who was stalking me is dead. I don’t have to worry about him anymore.” Her slightly pointed chin kicked up into the air a notch. “I don’t need a guard, Trace. What I need is to be able to lead my life on my own terms.”

He’d suspected this was coming. He’d dreaded this confrontation for days. “What about the press?”

Her laughter held a bitter edge. “We ran away from them. Wasn’t that the point of our trip to the Keys? To hide out there until the reporters moved on to the next juicy story.”

A prima ballerina who’d been abducted and held captive for days by her ex-lover definitely counted as a juicy story. Her face had been splashed on all the papers in the country, and her story had been broadcast again and again on the TV news shows.

“I have to get back to normal. I need normal.” Then she shook her head. “And I need my dancing.”

She always had. Dancing had gotten Skye through some of the darkest moments in her life. Dancing had also taken her from his life.

“I want you to keep a guard with you,” he began.

Skye opened her mouth to argue.

“Please,” Trace said, the word grating from him. “At least for the first few days, just until we make sure the reporters aren’t going to swarm like locusts on you.” He closed the space between them. Caught her wrist in his hand. Such a fragile wrist. The black bruises from the handcuffs no longer marked her.

That bastard Mitch had kept her handcuffed for days. He’d starved her. Tried to take her away.

But the bruises had faded.

She’d healed.

Trace hadn’t forgotten the fear.

“Let Reese stay with you,” he said, as his fingers smoothed over her wrist. “Just for a few days.”

“F-fine. Just at first, okay? Because I won’t be kept prisoner by anyone. Not even you, Trace.” She pulled away from him. “I have to get back to my routine. I want to open that dance studio, and I will do it.”

Skye. Always so determined. Her determination was one of the things he loved about her.

He watched her for a moment longer as she puttered around the kitchen. “You didn’t like the diamonds.” He’d been worried about that. Skye wasn’t the type for flash, but he wanted to shower her in diamonds.

She glanced back at him in surprise. “Of course, I did. They’re incredible.”

He had the feeling she was just saying those words to make him happy. The woman didn’t get it. Everything he did was for her. If she didn’t like diamonds, then he’d get her rubies. He’d buy her anything and everything that she wanted.

But, well, he knew that what she wanted—Skye wanted to head back to her dance studio and work herself down to the bone again.

Trace cleared his throat. “I took the liberty of having some…upgrades made to the studio while we were away.” He figured he might as well tell her about those additions now.

Before they’d left town, Skye had rented an old fire station and she’d planned to convert the place into her new dance studio. He’d…helped…with those conversion plans.

“Upgrades?”

“Security. Cameras. Alarms.” Because he wouldn’t put her at risk. “I knew you’d want to go back.” He shrugged. “And I needed you to be safe when you did.”

Her lips tilted up and her eyes seem to warm. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

He did. Skye’s love was his certainty in life.

Sometimes, he felt like it might be his only one.

He smiled back at her. “Of course, you do. What’s not to love?”

And she laughed. A true, beautiful laugh. Light and free. He could see it then—see her coming back to him. Skye was pushing past her fear and trying to be happy once again.

He would do anything, everything, to make sure that she stayed happy.

“Arrogant,” she teased.

His head tilted in acknowledgment. He was. Arrogant. Controlling. Trace was well aware of his many faults.

And Skye still loved him? He was a lucky bastard, and he knew it.

“It’s a good thing you’re sexy,” she said, giving him a wink. “Something has to balance that arrogance.” And she left him, giving a saucy roll of her hips as she walked away.

He didn’t move. Just watched. Enjoyed the view.

I will always love you, Skye. Always.

When she gazed at him, love was in Skye’s eyes, too. Yet Trace couldn’t help but wonder…if she ever learned the full truth about him and all the things he’d done, would Skye still look at him the same way?

***

Trace had done more than a little bit of work at the fire station. “Upgrades, my ass,” Skye whispered.

He’d completely renovated the place.

Skye stepped inside the converted fire station, her gaze darting to the left and the right.

The hard-wood floors gleamed. Barres had been placed to run the length of the right wall. Floor to ceiling mirrors circled the main room, throwing her reflection back at her.