Page 123 of Without a Trace
I stepped to him—chest to chest—let his hands slide up my bare waist.
“Then show me.”
And they did.
I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.
Not with both of them.
Not with something pulsing beneath my skin—ancient, electric, terrifying.
Trace’s mouth found my neck, hot and open. Alden’s hands moved with purpose, like he already knew my fault lines.
They surrounded me, not colliding, but converging—two storms drawn to the same center.
When Trace’s fingers brushed my wrist, my body sparked.
I gasped—too sharp, too sudden for pleasure alone. My skin burned beneath my bracelet. Just for a second, a flash of heat fading before I could speak.
Neither of them seemed to notice.
But when Alden touched the same spot moments later, he froze. His brow furrowed like he’d felt it too.
“Scar,” he murmured, low and uneven. “What was that?”
I shook my head, dazed, lips parted but useless.
We didn’t stop.
Couldn’t.
Bodies tangled. Breath caught. Heat swelled. Every moment set off another burst beneath my skin. Chest tightened, lungs working too hard. The room felt charged—too much, too fast, too far gone.
Trace moaned against my thigh. Alden kissed my shoulder. I was scattered—held and haunted.
Then it flared again. That same place on my wrist.
Trace’s head lifted fast, eyes darting to Alden who sat up, still and wide-eyed.
“I felt that.” He looked to Trace. “Not her. You.”
My pulse cracked like thunder as
I pushed up on shaky arms. “It’s not just sex.” I whispered, though I didn’t know what it meant, only that it felt bigger than anything I’d ever known.
Trace’s stare pinned me. Softened.
“No,” he said. “It’s not.”
I didn’t know what had happened between us.
But I could feel it—still burning under my skin, pulsing beneath the silver on my wrist.
Something had started. And I knew, deep in my bones, none of us could take it back.
Trace kissed me like he was starving.
Alden touched me like he already knew the way my body came undone.
