Page 52 of Trap ’N’ Trace

Dayne hiked up her skirt and hooked his fingers at the waistband of her silk nylons and panties. Cool air hit her thighs and calves as he slid the garments down her legs. Her skin might be cold, but her internal body temperature was hot enough to melt chocolate.

His broad chest expanded as he took in her bare lower body. His hands—large, strong, and hot—stroked her inner thighs until his thumbs touched her wet folds. Pleasure streaked to her core, and she arched off the bed, uttering a mewling little cry.

Kat grabbed one of his wrists, urging him to push his fingers into her. When he did, she nearly orgasmed on the spot. Still not enough. She wanted him inside her.

The gun on his waistband was barely an impediment as she undid his belt and pulled down the zipper. When she cupped him, he was long, thick, and hard.

“Kat,” he grit out. “Stop.”

“No,” she cried. “I need you inside me. Now.”

“Dammit.” He pulled away then sat on the edge of the mattress, sucking in deep breaths.

“What are you doing?” She levered onto her elbows. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Taking another deep breath, he glanced over his shoulder. Clear green eyes filled with regret lasered into her. “We can’t do this.”

“Why the hell n—” She stiffened. Oh no. Oh god, no. What have I done? Shame washed over her in roaring waves and her cheeks flamed. Throwing herself at him was ten shades beyond inappropriate. He was there to protect her, nothing more, and she’d taken advantage of the situation to satisfy her own selfish needs. “I’m so sorry.” She took an unsteady breath to slow her pounding heart. “You’re right, this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have—”

“Attacked me and torn my clothes off?” His lips curved into a faint smile.

“You-you actually think this is funny?” She grabbed the sides of her blouse, dragging them together to cover her breasts.

“Yeah.” He chuckled. When she glared at him, he sobered instantly. “I mean, no. We need to talk about what just happened.”

“No.” She shook her head. It would be far too embarrassing. “Just let it go. Please.”

His lips flattened then his cell phone vibrated against her hip. He looked at the screen and swore. “We’ve got company. A limousine is approaching the gate.” He pushed off the bed, tucking his shirt into his pants as he strode from the room. Remy and Angus hurried after him.

Sitting up, she stared at the door. Bile rose in her throat. I’m a slut. There was no other word for it. She touched her fingers to her lips. Lips that still throbbed, still wanted what she couldn’t have.

My life is a living, breathing soap opera.

Slowly, she stood on wobbly legs and walked into the bathroom. She flipped on the lights and stared into the mirror. While it didn’t hurt as much as yesterday, the ugly purple bruise had spread to her collarbone. That wasn’t what shocked her most.

Her hair sprung in five different directions. The skin around her mouth was pink, abraded by Dayne’s five-o-clock shadow, and her bra hung unhooked beside her breasts. She covered them with her hands, imagining they were Dayne’s hands cupping and kneading, flicking at her tender nipples.

No! She dragged the lacy cups together, quickly refastening the bra. He was right. They shouldn’t do this. Theirs was a business relationship. One of the black-and-white rules she’d learned from her father sprang to mind: Never mix business with pleasure. Because it always—always—complicated things beyond repair and killed the relationship.

The gate tone blared from the security box on the wall.

“Kat!” Dayne shouted up the stairs.

She clapped a hand to her forehead. Oh shit. Her friends had arrived. She’d completely forgotten they were coming over.

“I’ll be right down,” she called out. Working quickly, she buttoned her blouse then brushed her hair. Next, she went in search of her jacket and shrugged into it. Dayne’s suit jacket lay on the floor. She picked it up and held it to her nose, torturing herself all over again at how good he’d smelled as he’d been on top of her.

The gate bell chimed again.

“Kat!” Dayne bellowed.

“I’m coming,” she shouted back, stepping into her shoes and draping Dayne’s jacket over her arm.

Coming? Hadn’t she just nearly done that?

Angus and Remy waited for her at the bottom of the stairs, their tails wagging. Dayne stood in the foyer, his arms crossed and lips pursed. Light from the chandelier glinted off the gold badge clipped to his belt directly in front of his holstered gun. “You should have told me you were expecting company.”

She threw his jacket on the table, not caring when it slid onto the floor.