Page 87 of Trap ’N’ Trace

They said their goodbyes to Dayne’s friends then set the alarm. Trying not to laugh, she strode to him then used her thumb to wipe off the glossy pink lipstick smeared around his mouth. “We forgot about my lipstick.”

“Yeah. We did.” He pulled her into his arms, kissing her until she clung to him. All it took was this man’s lips on hers and she turned into a rag doll. Mindless and boneless.

He swung her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. The dogs followed, and he gently nudged them aside before kicking the door shut and setting her on her feet.

He shrugged out of his jacket and yanked off the cummerbund, dropping them onto her armchair. When he moved to his bow tie, she stopped him. “Let me.” With unsteady hands, she tugged on the bow tie and slipped it from his neck, letting it fall to the floor.

His hands skimmed up her bare back, unhooking the straps and slowly dragging them down her arms. As he pushed the fabric past her waist, her heart pounded, and she licked her lips. She wanted his hands on her skin, his erection inside her.

When the dress dropped to the floor, she rested her hands on his chest and kicked it aside.

“We really should hang that up,” he whispered against her ear, sending chills down her neck to her breasts and nipples.

“Later,” she whispered back, surprised at how husky and sexy her voice sounded. She linked her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes to take his mouth in a searing kiss.

With their mouths fused together, their tongues dancing wildly, he lifted her and carried her to the bed. Very gently, he laid her on her back then slipped off her strappy sandals. As he stroked his hands up her calves then her thighs and garter belts, her skin erupted in goose bumps.

“Dayne,” she breathed, her breasts rising and falling faster. “You’re taking too long. Get inside me.” Before all that pent-up, protocol-be-damned sexual need and lust pooling in her core blew like an overloaded fuse.

“I give the orders. Remember?” His eyes darkened. “Spread your legs.” She did as he commanded, expecting him to yank off his shirt and slacks and give her what she was dying for. When she reached for him, he pressed her arms down on the pillow above her head. “Don’t move.”

He released her arms then skimmed his hands over the tops of her breasts, down her belly to her thighs. She groaned and thrust her hips off the bed. With every tender stroke of his fingers, he was killing her.

Deftly, he unsnapped the garter belts and proceeded to slowly, torturously, roll her silk hose down each leg.

“Damn you,” she whimpered, writhing on the mattress. Her body burned for him, and all he wanted to do was play with her undergarments.

He chuckled. “Sorry, babe. Not every man gets a chance to do this and those things are too sexy to ignore.” Then he kissed his way up the inside of one thigh, leaving a sizzling trail directly to her pink lacy panties. “So pretty.” He hooked his fingers around the waistband and dragged them down her legs.

Cool air washed over her naked body, but the way he looked at her—hungry, feral, and utterly male—flamed her with enough heat to fuel her private jet.

As he began unbuttoning his shirt, she wet her lips. Special Agent Dayne Andrews undressing was the most erotic, masculine dance she’d ever witnessed. Taut skin stretched over firm, rippling muscle as he shucked his shirt and stepped out of his slacks and tight briefs.

His erection jutted out—long, thick, and heavy. Her body trembled as he leaned over her, caging her body with his arms. Unable to wait a second longer, she curved her fingers around him, stroking up and down, reveling in the steely strength of him as she guided him to her entrance.

“Condom,” he growled.

“Oh shit.” At least one of them still had their wits about them. She leaned over and yanked open the bedside table drawer. She grabbed the box inside and tore it open. Several condoms fell on the bed, but her fingers shook so badly she couldn’t tear open the wrapper.

“I’ve got this.” Dayne took the condom from her and ripped it open. In seconds, he was fully covered.

He repositioned himself between her thighs, nudging gently at her entrance. Too slow. She understood he probably worried he’d hurt her, but her body was on fire.

She grabbed his muscled buttocks and pulled him inside her as she thrust her hips against him. “Oh,” she cried as he stretched her tight walls.

“You good?” he breathed.

“Yes.” Better than good, actually. Tiny pricks of energy buzzed all around her.

“Jesus, Kat.” He groaned and closed his eyes for a moment. “You feel amazing. You feel like…” He kissed her deeply, then deeper still until it seemed like they were connected on a soul-deep level.

“Like what?” she whispered when they came up for air.

“Like I just found heaven.” He began thrusting harder, penetrating deeper.

It does feel like heaven. Being in his arms, being one with his body and mind. I wish this moment could last forever. Because she’d never been more cherished, safe, or completely turned on.

He slipped his hands beneath her buttocks, changing the angle, driving deeper. With each slap of their hips, something wonderful built in her core, growing until her inner muscles tightened and she clung to his back.