Page 88 of Trap ’N’ Trace

Her heart pounded faster. Dayne’s features tightened, his expression one of intense concentration. As much as she wanted to watch all that masculine beauty straining above her, she couldn’t. Waves of sensation ripped through her body and she cried out again and again, trembling in the aftershocks of the most beautiful orgasm.

Dayne’s presence in her life might only be temporary, but she hoped not. The one thing she knew for certain was that they’d just shared something wonderful. Something she would never, ever forget.

…

Dayne’s heart raced and his breath came in great heaves. Holding off his release to watch Kat shatter in his arms was worth every torturous moment.

Still gasping, he lowered his head to her breasts because he no longer had the strength to hold it up. Her heartbeat fluttered against his forehead.

When his vital signs returned to somewhat normal, he lifted his head. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly. Beautiful. There was no other word for her or what just passed between them.

He ran his tongue over her lower lip, savoring her sweetness. Then his stomach grumbled.

Soft lips smiled against his. “Hungry?”

“Uh-huh.” For her. He kissed her again.

She giggled. “My lipstick wasn’t enough to satisfy your appetite?”

“No nutritional value. These on the other hand.” He cupped one of her breasts and sucked on her nipple. When she sighed, his cock twitched with more life than he thought he had left in him. Usually he’d need at least forty minutes to recover. Around her, his body broke every record in the book.

His stomach growled again, louder and more insistent this time.

“I’d better get you some food to go with that scotch.” Her fingers skated over his ass, sending shivers up his back. “I can whip up a salad to go with the casserole Francine left us last night. She also made zabaglione.”

“Zabaglione? Is that an Italian sports car?” It wasn’t, but he’d definitely never had it before.

“No, silly.” She smacked his bicep. “But it is an Italian specialty. Whipped egg custard flavored with Marsala.”

“Sounds amazing.” He dipped his head to suckle on her other nipple. “And sweet,” he said around the tight little bud.

“It is.” She sighed, a deeply sexy sound he loved. “It definitely is.”

Watching her this way, naked and with nothing between them but the sweat on their bodies, was something he could do for the rest of his life. That and making love to her every night. Fast…slow…it didn’t matter. He’d give her whatever she wanted or needed. Whatever pleasure his body could provide.

Her stomach grumbled. “That wasn’t very ladylike of me.”

“There’s nothing about you that isn’t ladylike.” Or all woman.

“Thank you.” She giggled again. “But I should probably go heat up that casserole.”

He groaned. Guess round two would have to wait. Reluctantly, he withdrew from her and rolled onto his back.

Kat rose, and he was treated to a tantalizing view of pear-shaped buttocks as she reached for the long purple robe hanging on the spindle of a really old mirror. His mouth watered. Whether it was from the promise of one of Fran’s casseroles or the sight of all that shiny material caressing her lush body, he didn’t know.

Definitely the latter.

She sent him a seductive smile over her shoulder as she left. Remy and Angus padded to the side of the mattress. His K-9 rested her muzzle near his arm, while Angus stood on his hind legs, trying to mimic Remy but only managing to get the tips of his paws on the bed. After giving Remy a quick head rub, she and Angus lay down, snuggling together like furry peas in a pod.

He stared at the ceiling’s domed light fixture. Strands of clear crystals cast alternating shadows and gold splotches of light on the walls, reminding him of a toy his mother had given him one year for Christmas before she died. A kaleidoscope. It was old, chipped, and beat up, but he’d loved it. The colorful, symmetrical designs inside the tube were always different, changing with each turn.

He wasn’t the same man who’d walked into the Vandenburg castle two weeks ago. That man wouldn’t be thinking the crazy-ass thought tumbling over and over in his head. Could they really make this thing between them work when this was over?

After depositing the condom in a trash basket under the bathroom sink, he examined the expensive-looking toiletries on the counter. Crystal canisters with gold and silver lids. A gold-handled hairbrush. How could this ever work? He didn’t have a clue.

I’m fucked. Because he’d fallen for her. Hard.

Returning to the bedroom, he shoved his legs into his slacks and headed for the door. The box of condoms on the nightstand caught his eye. He grinned and grabbed one, stuffing it into his pocket before heading downstairs.