Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) (23 page)

“Agree. You’ll need to brief her first.
Tell her what she’ll be lookin’ for.”

Ryan nodded, finding himself caught up in
Z’s dark brown eyes. He wasn’t supposed to be fantasizing about how it would be
if they were alone and naked, but that was exactly what he was doing.

Shit. Not good. Not good at all.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Ryan
swallowed past the desert that had taken up residence in his throat. “Once I
know somethin’ more, I’ll let you know.”

Apparently that was enough to pacify Z,
because he was met with a similar nod before Z started the engine on his bike
and maneuvered out of the parking space.

Ryan watched until Z was out of sight and
then sighed.

It was all he could do.

Trace stared at the ceiling, watching the
leisurely turn of the fan blades. He couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t quite
pinpoint what the reason was tonight. Adrenaline? Nerves? Anxiety? Maybe all
three? Hell, he had no fucking idea. Most nights he would merely fall in bed
and be out before his head hit the pillow.

Not tonight.

As he lay in the comfort of his bed, he
battled the overwhelming images that played continuously through his exhaustion-laden
mind. The events of the day were on an endless loop, starting with the almost
kiss with Marissa in his kitchen, followed by seeing her luscious, partially
naked body, and then the remembered pain and fear he had glimpsed in her eyes
when he’d woken her from her nightmare.

And all of that was chased by the memory
of seeing her looking at him from across the room when he’d returned from spending
a couple of hours on the computer in his room only to find her sitting on the
sofa with her laptop in front of her, doing her best to pretend that she wasn’t
checking him out. It hadn’t slipped past him that there hadn’t been an ounce of
fear or worry in her gaze when he’d caught her staring at him. Only lust,
desire, and then possibly embarrassment, although he didn’t care much about the
latter. It was the first two that had caught his attention.

The rest of the evening had been fairly
uneventful. After joining her in the living room, doing his damnedest to lie
there and feign interest in the dull sitcom he had turned on, pretending
Marissa wasn’t stealing sideways glances from across the room, Trace had excused
himself to what they had dubbed CCB. Not because he had anything to do, but he
had desperately needed to put a little distance between them. Since he couldn’t
leave, that was the only option he’d had.

Somehow he’d managed to pass several hours
as he scoured the Internet and chatted online with Austin and Dom—who at this
point still had nothing new to tell him other than they knew the guy suspected
she was no longer at her parents’ house, but at this time, he didn’t seem to know
exactly where she was. That was neither good nor bad news, so Trace had brushed
it off, hoping they’d come up with something more concrete.

He had returned a call from RT, who had
insisted that they meet tomorrow to talk. According to RT, the meeting with Max
had gone better than he’d expected, and afterward Ryan had gone back to the
office to do some research. Apparently he’d found what he’d been looking for,
but the news wasn’t something he was willing to share over the phone. Smart
man.

By the time Trace had finally decided to
call it a night, Marissa had once again closed herself off in the guest bedroom,
and he had fought the urge to check on her. Now he could hardly think of
anything but her.

How she looked, how she smelled, the
smoothness of her skin, the aquamarine glow of her pretty eyes… She was an
image planted in his mind, and he couldn’t shake it no matter how hard he
tried. Having her close was bringing about so many memories, so many
opportunities to pursue things with her that he had allowed to pass him by.

Trace recalled the very first time that
he’d noticed Marissa. And by noticed, he meant as a woman. Marissa had always
been larger than life, a fun-loving girl who captured the hearts of anyone she
came in contact with, including Trace. But it was the moment his thoughts of
her had gone from friendly to something much, much different.

Considering their families were close and
Marissa was only two years younger than he was, they had spent a fair amount of
time together growing up. It wasn’t that they were particularly close, but
there for a while, it’d seemed as though he would see her damn near every day.
And throughout his teenage years, Trace had suspected that Marissa had been
crushing on him. However, he’d been rebellious, trying to put distance between
him and the family he spent day and night with. Typical teenage bullshit.

He’d just hit the legal drinking age of
twenty-one about the time his carnal desires had taken root as well. And at the
time, Marissa had been just out of high school with a good-girl image that she
couldn’t shake. It had been the perfect reason to stay far, far away from her,
and Trace had perfected the art of keeping her at a distance.

But on her twenty-first birthday, she had
planned a party the likes of which only a popular, good girl could pull off. Her
guest list had been extensive, most of which were friends she’d spent a lot of
time with as well as the families who’d welcomed her into their world, namely
the Kogans and the Trexlers. Since there had been no way to deter her, her
parents had decided to take over the planning in order to keep things within
reason.

Reason? Yeah, reasonable was so not how
that party had turned out.

Between her protective brothers, her
instigating friends, and the boys who’d obviously had their eyes on Marissa for
more years than they could count on one hand, the party had been overwhelming
from the start. And Marissa was the guest of honor.

That night Trace’s perception of the woman
had changed drastically.

Gone was the good girl, and in her place
was a sassy, independent woman who knew what she wanted and went after it with
gusto. To his relief, he hadn’t been in her sights that night or there was no
telling how their lives would’ve changed. She’d had a boyfriend at the time,
one no one particularly cared for, and the little fucker had shown his true
colors during the party, sealing his own fate.

Within two hours, Marissa had been
completely and utterly shit-faced. So what had the boyfriend done? He’d opted
to see just how far he could get with Marissa once she was three sheets to the
wind. His defense? Well, no one said the guy was smart. His excuse had been something
along the lines of her being twenty-one and him wanting her to have a good time
by plying her with alcohol.

Unfortunately, the bastard had had another
good time in mind, one Marissa hadn’t appeared to be all that interested in.
Thank God Courtney had had the good sense to keep an eye on Marissa and had
offered the rest of them a heads up as to what she suspected from the guy
Marissa considered to be her boyfriend.

Needless to say, Clay and Colby had ended
up tossing the shithead out on his ass, and that was when Trace had found
himself between a rock and a hard place. A really tempting hard place.

Courtney had been Marissa’s saving grace
that night, and her brothers had just come in to handle cleanup. But Trace had
had the most difficult job of all as far as he was concerned. Avoiding Marissa
Trexler was a hell of a lot easier said than done. He’d never been accused of
being a saint, but after that night, he should’ve earned his angel wings.

Somehow he’d managed to avoid her wayward
advances. She’d been drunk; he doubted she even remembered them. Too bad he
couldn’t say the same for her now.

Trace feared he wasn’t doing such a good
job of avoiding her now, and he knew that the longer she remained in his house,
the less willpower he’d be able to maintain. Especially if he got a glimpse of
her glorious, partially naked curves one more time. Shit, he’d had a hard-on
that rivaled them all after getting a peek of that lacey pink bra covering her
perky tits.

Reaching down between his legs, Trace cupped
his balls, then moved higher, grinding his palm against his growing erection.
He was naked, as he was every damn night when he went to sleep, and thinking
about her wasn’t helping, that was for damn sure.

The rhythm of his palm against his cock
became addictive, and he found himself jacking off to the image of her nearly
nude body. God, what he wouldn’t give to walk into her room, crawl over her,
and indulge in what he’d denied himself for far too long.

The only thing that kept him from doing so
was the infinitesimal sliver of control that he’d been latching on to since
he’d demanded to step into the role of her watcher.

The first go-round had been the worst
point in his life, and finding her after losing his mind piece by piece for
every minute that she’d been gone had sealed his fate. There were no two ways
about it, Trace was drawn to Marissa, although he knew it was in her best interest
that he remain hands off. But it had been the last near-death experience in
Connecticut, sneaking her out of the house before the ghost they were chasing
managed to get his hands on her, that had done him in.

He’d almost been too late, and acknowledging
that fact had the ability to knock the wind out of him. When he gave too much
thought to how short life could possibly be, Trace found it more and more
difficult to deny himself the one thing he’d wanted for himself. Marissa
Trexler.

If it were up to her, he was sure they’d
have been horizontal and naked. But then again, that could very well just be
wishful thinking on his part, because hell, he’d spent years dreaming and
fantasizing about her.

So what was the holdup? It wasn’t like
they couldn’t engage in a sexual relationship that would leave them both
satisfied for a long time.

The issue was that Trace wanted all of
her. Sex was only a small—although rather enticing—piece of what he wanted from
Marissa. He wanted her trust, first and foremost, and he didn’t think she’d
give that away freely. Not after all that she’d endured. Hell, he’d seen it in
her eyes when he’d promised her that she was safe with him. She was agreeable,
although he could sense she didn’t believe him for a second.

Which meant that pursuing her, giving in
to his baser urges, wasn’t going to help his cause. He’d want more than she
could give. So lying there, stroking his cock in the dark seemed like the only
option worth pursuing at the moment.

Trace was just giving in to the sensation,
letting a much-needed release build inside of him when Marissa’s scream echoed
through the house. Not bothering with clothes, Trace launched himself from the
bed, grabbing his gun from the nightstand, and was at Marissa’s bedside before she
had the chance to wake up.

Another nightmare.

Trace fought to catch his breath; the fear
of what might’ve happened stole a year off his life.

Marissa’s blue eyes opened, briefly meeting
his gaze before slowly descending south. Her mouth instantly widened, a
not-so-subtle reminder that he was very, very naked, standing over her with a
gun in his hand.

Shit.

“You okay?” he asked, feeling like a
predator, although he wasn’t sure why. He might’ve been the one standing above
her, but she was definitely the one whose hot gaze now raked over his naked
body.

“Yeah,” she uttered, her eyes drifting up
to meet his once more.

“Sorry, I’ll—” Yeah, he had no fucking
clue what he would do, but getting out of her room was his first priority.

His dick hadn’t deflated thanks to the
adrenaline that coursed through him, which meant he was looking more and more
like a pervert the longer he stood there staring at her.

“All right then,” he mumbled, turning away
from her, hoping he could make it back to his room before the last remnants of
his control shattered. “Let me know if… Yeah, never mind.”

Making it back to his bed, Trace set the
gun on the nightstand before dropping down onto the edge of the mattress. He
ran his hand over his hair as he stared at the ground while he wondered if
bringing Dom over as a babysitter might’ve been a good idea.

Fucking shit.

□«»□«»□«»□

Marissa stared at Trace’s retreating form.
He was incredibly, deliciously naked, and for the first time in months, the
moment she had forced herself out of the nightmare, the memories of that
horrific event had evaded her.

Completely.

The heat that had infused her was
powerful. All-consuming. The sight of Trace naked… Well, that was obviously the
fastest way to get her brain to switch from one topic to another without
batting an eye.

Not to mention, way better than anything
she’d ever fantasized about.

Holy crap, the guy was … glorious. No,
glorious might be an understatement. Long and lean, the powerful muscles of his
back flexed and shifted as he walked away, making her mouth water as she
imagined running her hands over the hard, sleek lines. The last things she
glimpsed were his thick thighs and his rock-hard ass muscles bunching as he
appeared to be fleeing from her.

He definitely wasn’t what she’d expected
to see when she had opened her eyes. Especially not standing above her, his gun
in hand as he peered down at her. She had screamed; she knew that much because
it had ripped her from the grips of the nightmare, for which she was grateful. But
now, as she rolled over onto her back, staring at the yellow glow from a street
lamp reflected on the ceiling, she could do nothing but think about what Trace
was doing.

Was he back in his bed? Was he thinking
about her?
Had
he been thinking about
her? There was no way she could’ve imagined the hard, rigid length of his cock
standing proudly from his impressive body. Just the thought had her fingers
itching to touch him. To glide her hands over every inch of him.

Rolling to her side once more, Marissa
tried to fight the heat that threatened to consume her. She tried to ignore the
warmth between her legs, the ache that had taken up residence deep inside of
her at the mere thought of Trace.