Trace of Fever - Lori Foster [103]
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