Mine to Take (Mine 1)

There was only one ex-lover for her in Chicago, and he was sitting far too close and taking up far too much room in the vehicle.

One dark brow rose. “It’s not hard to hop a flight or a train to Chicago.”

No, it wasn’t.

Rain began to fall, splattering against the window. Her shoulders stiffened. Fine, if he wanted the list, she’d give it to him. In all its short and sweet beauty. “Robert Wolfe. He was…he was a choreographer that I met years ago.” Brilliant. Determined. Way too exacting.

“Who else.”

The impatience in his tone grated. It wasn’t like she had a four page list. I bet he does. “Evan Meadows, he’s an actor.” One who’d made it pretty big recently. “But he’s in California now so I don’t see how he could possibly—”

“Keep going, Skye.” His voice was clipped.

There wasn’t very far that she could go. “Mitch Loxley.”

The car’s interior got very, very quiet.

“Say the name again,” Trace growled.

“Why? You heard me the first time.” She glanced out the window once more. A frown pulled her brows low. This definitely wasn’t the way to the penthouse.

“You slept with your doctor?” Trace demanded. His voice was low and cold.

Sometimes, he did that. When he was angry, his voice would drop to that lethal softness.

“He wasn’t my doctor at the time.” She’d been so alone, and Mitch had been the only one there for her. Always smiling. Coming by with doughnuts and flowers.

One night, drinks had led to something…more.

“Why aren’t you with him now?”

“Because I couldn’t stay in New York.” Her lease had been up, and she hadn’t had the cash to renew it, not after all her medical bills. Insurance had only stretched so far.

“The fucking doctor…”

Her head snapped toward him. “Look, who I’ve been with shouldn’t matter—”

“It matters to me.” Gritted. “It matters a great deal.”

She would never figure him out. “You’ve been screwing your way through every model or actress you could find, so don’t act like some ex-lover I had does something to you. We both know I made your ancient history list a long time ago.”

He leaned toward her. In the darkened interior of the vehicle, she wished that she could see his expression. But he was still hidden by shadows. “It does something,” he said. “It makes me fucking furious.”

“Trace?”

His hand slid over her cheek. “I want you to forget them. I want to take you to bed, and I want to wipe away every memory you have of them all.”

She couldn’t take a deep enough breath. “We’re over, Trace. You know—”

“How can we be over, when I still want you so much?” His hand slid down her cheek, down her jaw, then down to the column of her throat. His fingers splayed over her neck, lightly touching the pulse that raced frantically beneath her skin. “And how can we be over, when you still want me so much?”

Because he’d ruined her for other men. It was a sad and humiliating fact. The sex had been good with the others, but with Trace…

I was always comparing. How had that been fair? Maybe that was why Robert and Evan had ended things. They’d told her—both of them—that she wouldn’t let them get close. That she put up a wall to keep them out of her life.

After Trace, she’d needed that wall. Because she hadn’t ever wanted to hurt that much again.

When he left me, I felt broken. It had taken too long for her to put the pieces of her life back together.

“If I’m wrong, tell me now.” Trace’s hand seemed to singe her skin. “Tell me to back the hell off, and I will. I won’t push for something you’re not willing to give. I want all of you. All or nothing.”

Wasn’t that the way it had worked between them before? She had given everything to him.

What had Trace given?