Two is a Lie(76)

I can give him that. And more.

“I’m committed to this.” Clutching the shirt, I push a button through the hole. “I’m not giving up.” I release another one. “I love you, Trace.”

His eyes don’t stray from mine as I free each button and whisper determined words. When the shirt slips to the floor, it leaves me completely nude and trembling. Neither of us move.

The hush in the room presses against me, straining the few feet of space between us. He makes me suffer through it, taking his time scanning every exposed line and shadowed crease of my body.

“Bend over the bed.” He adjusts the cuff of his sleeve. “Feet on the floor. Ass in the air.”

I shiver and push myself into motion. He’s going to fuck me face down in the least intimate position possible. And I’ll let him. I’ll let him use my body however he wants as long as he doesn’t let go.

Sliding my hands over the mattress, I bend at the waist, legs straight and ass up, with my chest and cheek against the bedding.

His sharp breath sounds behind me, followed by his approaching footfalls. I tense in anticipation of his masculine heat, his expert touch, his satin lips…

“I don’t resent you or think any less of you for fucking him.” His palm ghosts across my backside, prickling my skin. “The rage burning inside me will never be directed at you.” He kicks my legs apart, belying his words. “You are the only reason that son of a bitch is still alive.”

My spine chills. “Trace, you can’t—”

“Shut up.” He caresses my bottom and softens his tone. “I’m punishing you for waiting ten days to tell me.”

Ten days?

I started sleeping with Cole the night before I took the pregnancy test. Then I was sick for four days. Then six days of bed-hopping…

Ten days.

How does Trace know that?

“You were puking and sick as hell that morning.” He bends over my back and speaks against the pounding din in my ear. “But I saw the guilt in your eyes the moment you looked at me.”

My lashes flutter against my cheeks, my guilt unbearable. He knew all this time and never said anything, never so much as looked at me differently.

“Do you know what it’s like to watch your dreams come true?” He curves a hand around my waist. “To hold the end of your story tight in your grip, only to have it unravel from your fingers and slip away?”

An icy jolt spikes through me, quaking my body with memories of Cole’s death.

“Yeah.” I crane my neck and meet his flinty eyes. “I know exactly what that’s like.”

“Then you know…” He leans in, bracing a hand beside my head. “What I’ve been feeling for the last ten days.”

I swallow thickly, choking on my tears. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was waiting for you to come to me, to say something, to choose me.”

The hand on the bed moves in, wrapping around my throat. His fingers press against my windpipe, not hard enough to cut my air, but it’s a vulnerable position. With his other hand stroking my bare backside, my legs spread, body naked, and butt perched in the air, I know what’s coming before he rears back his arm.

He lets his hand hover above his shoulder, building dread in my stomach. But the moment I look into the shelter of his eyes, I swallow my doubts. I trust him to know my limits.

My breath leaves me right before his palm slams down. I wheeze with shock, lifting on my toes as white-hot pain blazes across my skin. Then he whaps me again, and again, every strike hitting harder, deeper into muscle and tissue, jarring my bones.

The hand collaring my throat doesn’t tighten or loosen. He’s fully aware of his grip and the force of his hits against my backside, measuring every twitch, balancing pleasure with pain. Always in control.

Except his breathing. His chest heaves with the exertion of his lungs, rotating the air with the sounds of his hunger.

Spanking, choking, dominating—all of it makes him hard as a rock, and I feed on it, on his arousal, the rasp of his grunts, and the heat of his powerful hand colliding against my ass.

My nipples tighten. My pussy clenches, and I ache for a deeper connection. I need his confident, unwavering eye contact.

Fisting the sheets, I strain my neck against the fingers around my throat and peer back at him.

His gaze lifts, and his hand comes down, softly, tenderly, stroking my burning flesh and caressing the hurt. He holds me in the lull of his eyes for an aching moment before straightening and looking down at my fiery red bottom.

I miss his grip on my neck instantly and touch the skin there as I angle my head to follow his movements.

He steps behind me, the crisp fabric of his pants brushing the backs of my thighs. His tongue peeks out, wetting his lip as he stares at the exposed apex of my legs.