Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) (27 page)

His name had barely escaped her lips when
she shattered. Her orgasm ripped through her, doubling in strength as Trace
held her tighter, fucked her harder. He didn’t stop, and another orgasm built
right behind the first, this one no less intense.

“Fuck, baby,” Trace groaned. “I’m gonna
come and I want you right there with me, Marissa.”

The way he said her name, as though he
were pulling her back into the moment, had Marissa’s body reigniting. She
stared up into eyes that had haunted her dreams for as long as she could
remember.

“Come for me,” Trace commanded. “Come for
me, Marissa!”

Riding the gentle waves of her orgasm as
it built once more, Marissa drove her hips up against his, meeting every
sweetly punishing thrust of his hips as his cock tunneled in and out of her.

It only took a moment for her to be
blinded once again by pleasure. It slammed into her, not quite as powerful as
the last time but enough to knock the wind out of her. Screaming out his name,
Marissa threw her head back as she came.

“Fuck yes,” Trace growled from above her.
“So fucking beautiful.” And with that, his body went still, a sweet, warm pulse
inside of her the signal of his release.

And as she tightened her hold on him,
refusing to let go, Marissa knew that no matter how strong she thought she was,
how tough she tried to pretend to be, Trace Kogan had irrevocably changed her.

Morning came, and Trace found himself once
again staring at the ceiling, watching the fan blades turn around and around.
The difference between last night and this morning was… Well, his entire world
had changed, that was what was different.

Marissa was sleeping peacefully against
him, her head resting on his chest, his arm around her as she half straddled
him with her body. It was the most at peace he’d felt in far too long. Holding
her through the night while she slept had made his restless night worth every
moment he’d spent with his eyes open.

Trace knew he should’ve slept. He needed
to sleep because he had to be alert and on top of his game so that they could
address this threat to Marissa head on, but he couldn’t. He would admit that
nothing usually scared him. Nothing. He’d willingly walk into danger if it was
for the greater good, but when it came to the woman in his arms … everything
about her scared him.

The way she got to him so easily. How
desperate he was to protect her from the unknown. How much he feared he would
lose if something happened to her. Yeah, those were the demons he was facing
this morning, and he had tried to erase them with fits of sleep through the
night, but never had it seemed to help.

He’d been right. The danger they faced had
increased tenfold now that he’d had the pleasure of being sheathed within the
fierce confines of her beautiful body.

Trace wasn’t a man without feeling. He
might be hardened thanks to the life he led and the work he did, but it didn’t
mean he didn’t feel. He did. Sometimes too much. For instance, when it came to
his family … Trace would go to any length to protect them, and he knew they’d
do the same for him. He’d grown up in a household that was made up of more than
just his siblings. He’d had an extended family from the beginning because of Bryce
and TJ. It wasn’t something that anyone questioned, but Trace knew that RT,
Colby, Clay, Evan, Tanner, Austin, Kira, and Dominic would lay down their lives
for him, the same as his own brothers and sister would.

And he would easily do the same for them.

But with Marissa… Yeah, she was different.
Trace would go to the ends of the earth to ensure her safety. And if it meant
he could keep her in his bed, in his arms, he’d go even further than that. And
that fucking scared the shit out of him.

It was one thing to desire a woman. And
that was something he knew a thing or two about. But what Marissa stirred
inside of him was significantly more than desire. He was tempted to say it
bordered on love and not in a familial capacity, either.

So what did that mean for them? It was a
question he’d pondered for the last hour, wishing like hell he could focus on
what he needed to focus on rather than contemplating the meaning of love at a
time when it wasn’t important.

Marissa stirred in his arms and he turned
his head to look at her. Her golden hair fanned out around her, the lustrous
shine intensified by the rays of the sun peering through the window and pouring
over the bed. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Trace knew he needed to get the day
started before he procrastinated for too long. There were things he needed to
do, and the first order of business was to call RT and determine what time he’d
be there.

After his shower.

Twenty minutes later, Trace was ambling
out of the bathroom. He glanced over at the bed to see Marissa was gone, and an
odd pang plunged through his chest when he saw the bed empty. Trying to shake
off the feeling, he headed to the kitchen only to find it empty, as well. He
stopped and listened. Shower. She’d opted to do the same thing this morning.

Disappointment lashed brutally at his
insides as he wondered why she hadn’t just joined him.

However, knowing she was there by the
sound of the water rumbling through the exposed pipes soothed him somewhat as
he made his way to the coffeepot. Without conscious thought, he got the pot
brewing as he mentally formulated his agenda for the day.

Grabbing his cell phone, he shot RT a
text, letting him know he was available whenever he wanted to drop by. A few
minutes later, his phone buzzed, alerting him of an incoming text.

On
my way now.

Trace tried to hold back the sigh of
relief. As much as he wanted to return to bed, to pull Marissa from the shower
and bury himself in her body once more—for the rest of the day if possible—he
knew he needed to focus. And thinking about Marissa’s oldest brother was the
fastest and easiest way to deflate a hard-on.

□«»□«»□«»□

Ryan dropped his cell phone onto his lap
and then punched in the code that would allow him to scan his fingerprint on
the screen just outside his truck window so that the gate to Trace’s
underground parking garage would open. He remembered a time he’d been irritated
to have to go through so much hassle to get into the damn fortress, but knowing
that his sister was safe on the other side of the nearly impenetrable
iron gate
made him breathe a little easier.

Once inside, he watched in his rearview
mirror until the gate closed securely behind him before heading to one of the
spots closest to the entrance. Forgoing the elevator, because he always felt a
little claustrophobic in the damn things, Ryan headed up the two flights of
stairs to Trace’s.

Finding the door locked, he banged on the
steel and then stepped back as he waited to be granted entrance. A moment
later, Marissa opened the door for him.

“Hey,” she said, a small smile forming on
her pretty face. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a month.

“Hey back,” he greeted as he stepped through
the door and pulled her against him in a brief sideways hug. “How’re you?”

“Good.”

She didn’t sound good, but he wasn’t going
to mention it. Considering all the hell going on around her, it was to be
expected. He knew she was probably tired. Both from physical exhaustion as well
as mental. He’d spent the better part of the previous afternoon—before his sit-down
with Max Adorite—listening to Casper, Bryce, and TJ let loose on him regarding
the clusterfuck that had become her life.

He didn’t need the bitch session to remind
him just how much they had failed her.

“What’s up?” Trace called from the
kitchen, catching Ryan’s attention.

“Please tell me you’ve got coffee over
there.”

“Ready and waiting.”

Ryan thanked the coffee gods as he headed
toward the bar that separated the living area from the kitchen. Without waiting
for an invitation, he plopped down on a stool as he watched Trace pour a mug
and slide it his way.

It didn’t get past him that there was an
awkward tension lingering in the air. Nor did he miss the fact that Trace was
walking around without a shirt on—although, to be fair, that wasn’t all that
unusual for Trace. Ryan glanced between Marissa and Trace, but they both
managed to mask their expressions well.

Too
well.

Biting back the urge to warn Trace that
he’d break both of his legs and his arms if he hurt his sister, Ryan opted to
gulp the scalding coffee. Not his place, he reminded himself.

There were too many other things on his
mind. Too many problems, issues, fires that needed to be put out. Hell, he
didn’t have enough time to think about his own nonexistent love life to worry
about anyone else’s.

He knew when to keep his mouth shut.

He knew the same couldn’t be said for his
other brothers, so he was grateful they weren’t there. Without a doubt, Clay
would’ve laid into Trace first thing, and at this point, they had plenty of
other shit to worry about.

“Surprised you’re up this early,” Trace
offered with a smirk, sipping his coffee as he propped against the counter
opposite Ryan.

“Fuck you,” Ryan offered without heat.
“I’m thinkin’ a nap would be good at this point. Haven’t quite made it to bed
yet.”

That seemed to catch Trace’s attention.
The man pushed off the counter behind him and took a step closer, setting his
coffee cup on the counter. “What’s goin’ on? This about your meeting with Max?”

All hint of amusement was gone from
Trace’s tone. That was one thing Ryan liked about the guy. He knew when to be
serious, unlike some of the hooligans they were related to.

“No. But I’ll get to that.” Taking a sip
of coffee, Ryan returned the mug to the counter. “I got some news yesterday,” he
began, looking over at Marissa briefly. He really didn’t want to give the gory
details in front of her, but asking her to leave so they could have a
conversation about her probably wouldn’t go over well.

“From?”

“A contact,” Ryan told him, focusing on
Trace once more. “I had someone follow up on the explosion at the Connecticut
safe house once the local cops gave it their brief once-over and found
something interesting.”

“And?”

Ryan’s gaze darted over to Marissa once
again as he weighed his words carefully. Redirecting his attention to Trace,
Ryan said, “There was a body found.”

Ryan watched Trace intently. Not on
purpose, it was just what he did. And the subtle shift of Trace’s eyes told
Ryan so much more than he’d known before he’d walked through that damn front
door.

This obviously wasn’t news to Trace.

“What do you know?” Ryan asked
immediately.

It was Trace’s turn to glance at Marissa. Ryan
could see the indecision in the other man’s eyes, and he admired Trace for
looking out for Marissa, but they both knew it would be moot to try and
encourage her to leave them alone. And despite the gruesome details, she needed
to know what they were dealing with.

“He wasn’t a casualty of the explosion,”
Trace offered, a stone mask falling into place and erasing any sign of emotion.

“You?” Ryan asked.

Trace’s nod was subtle, but Ryan knew
Marissa had seen it, too.

“Oh, my God,” she gasped from beside him.
“You…”

Trace’s face hardened as he glared back at
Marissa. Ryan didn’t envy the position the man was in at the moment. Explaining
to someone who wasn’t part of their organization some of the things they had to
do wasn’t exactly easy.

To
Trace’s
credit, he didn’t respond to Marissa; rather, he met Ryan’s gaze once more. “I
knew he was there when I went in. My plan was to get her out without him seeing
us, but that went to shit pretty quickly. After I stumbled upon the explosives,
I found him just outside her bedroom door. I was on borrowed time with the damn
bomb he’d planted ticking, so asking questions wasn’t on my list of things to
do. When he didn’t answer the first one, I eliminated the threat.”

Ryan watched Trace intently. He was
familiar with the matter-of-fact tone that was used, but he could still see the
repercussions reflected in those eerie white eyes. Killing a man wasn’t easy.
Sometimes necessary, but never easy.

“You killed a man?” Marissa asked, drawing
their attention.

Again Trace simply stood there.

“Answer me,” Marissa commanded, her voice
a much higher pitch than before.

Trace leaned forward against the counter,
his eyes peering at Marissa while Ryan watched the interaction. “It was you or
him. Easy decision if you ask me.”

Marissa’s sharp intake of air was the only
thing that followed Trace’s statement. Ryan knew his sister wanted to run
screaming from the room. She’d been sheltered her entire life, the only one of
them who wasn’t directly involved in the security company that their father and
Trace’s father had built from the ground up. She’d opted to do other things and
no one had questioned those decisions. But they all knew it meant she wasn’t
hardened from life experiences like the rest of them.

“So the sound I heard was you moving the
body?” Marissa asked after a few moments of silence, and Ryan jerked his head
to look at her.

“Probably,” Trace confirmed.

“Good.”

Ryan’s eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling as
he heard his sister say she was glad Trace had killed a man.

Okay, so maybe Ryan was wrong. Maybe
Marissa wasn’t as soft-hearted and vulnerable as they thought she was. He
wasn’t sure what he would do with that information just yet, but he had to
admit, he admired this tougher version of his sister.