Текст книги "Ten Tiny Breaths"
Автор книги: K. A. Tucker
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
With my back to Trent’s sleeping form, I let my soaked dress drop to the floor. I unsnap my bra and toss it alongside the dress. My panties follow next. Removing a tank top and shorts from my top drawer, I’m considering hopping in the shower to cool off when a soft voice says, “You have the prettiest red hair.”
I freeze, my cheeks flaming, acutely aware that I am standing completely naked in front of a guy that can make me climax with the right look. I hear the bed creak and footsteps approach slowly, but I don’t move. Trent edges up behind me and the air in the room grows thicker. I can’t turn around. I can’t face him and I don’t know why.
I can feel his very existence as if it’s wrapping its hand around my soul, cradling it, trying to protect it from harm and I’m terrified. Terrified because I don’t ever want the feeling to end.
Every nerve in my body short-circuits. I stiffen as his hand grazes my shoulder before shifting my hair over to one side, exposing one side of my neck as he likes to do. A cool breeze tickles there as he leans down close.
“You’re so very beautiful. All of you.”
He yanks my PJs out of my grasp and lets them drop to the ground as he takes my hand in his. His mouth trails off to my right shoulder and he begins to sweep across my scar line with tiny kisses, sending shivers everywhere. Pushing my arm up so my hand rests on my head, I sense him shifting his body. Down, down, he continues, his mouth moving gently along my rib cage, over my hip, all the way to my outer thigh, kissing each line marking my tragic past. The entire time, my left hand holds his while my other one rests on my head. And my body trembles with anticipation.
Trent’s hands move to grip the outsides of my thighs securely as he lays a final kiss on my tail bone and I wobble slightly from weakened knees. I sense him standing behind me again, his hands skating back up and around to my belly, pulling my body firmly against him, letting me feel him hard against my back.
My head falls back against his chest with a mixture of excitement and frustration—excited that Trent is allowing me close to him again after weeks of keeping me away, frustrated that this will end all too abruptly.
But he shows no signs of ending this now as his hands continue up to slip over the contours of my breasts, cupping their fullness. I hear the sharp intake of air in his lungs. Slowly, he turns me around and pins my arms behind my back.
I don’t know why, but I can’t bring myself to look at him, so I stare at the tiny scar line along his collar bone instead, and feel his chest rise and fall against mine, my nipples hardening as they graze against his skin. My breath comes out in short pants as he leans down and whispers, “Look at me, Kacey.”
I do. I look up and let myself sink into those blue eyes, so full of worry and pain and desire.
“I’ll make you whole again, Kacey. I promise you, I will,” he whispers. And then his mouth covers mine.
I’m faintly aware of the wall now flattening against my back, of his boxers dropping to the ground, of strong arms lifting me up, of my legs wrapping around his hips, of feeling him against me.
Pushing inside me.
Making me whole.
***
It’s still dark outside when I wake again. This time my head rests on Trent’s chest, my body entwined with his. His fingers doodling over my back tells me he’s awake. It’s not a nightmare that’s woken me up this time. It’s Storm and Dan’s raised voices through the wall.
“He could have killed you, Nora,” Dan yells. “Forget the money. You don’t need the money.”
Storm’s voice isn’t nearly as loud or booming, but I manage to hear it all the same.
“You think I spent all those years training with a place like Penny’s as my goal? I screwed up, Dan. I made bad choices and I have to live with them. For now. For Mia.”
“Mia is who I’m thinking about. What if that guy killed you tonight? Who would take care of her? Her father? From prison?” There’s a quiet moment and then Dan starts yelling again. “I don’t know if I can do this, Nora. I can’t be afraid you’re going to die every time you go to work.”
I snort. “Look who’s talking,” I mutter to myself, but then I bite my tongue. This is between them.
“Well, I’m not making decisions based on what some man wants because when you’re gone and I’m still here, I have to live with the outcome.” I hear her voice crack at the end and I know she’s crying. The yelling dies down and I’m glad. I don’t want to hear Dan and Storm break up.
“Can I ask you something without you getting angry, Kacey?” Trent asks into the darkness.
“Uh huh,” I agree without thinking.
“What do you know about the driver who hit your car?”
My body instantly tenses. “He was drunk.”
“And?”
“And nothing.”
“Nothing at all? No name, face, anything?”
I pause, deciding if I want to answer. “Name. That’s it.”
“Do you remember it?”
I inhale sharply. I’ll never forget. “Sasha Daniels.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died.”
There’s a long pause as Trent continues drawing swirls on my back and I start to believe the conversation is over. Stupid girl. “Was he alone?”
I hesitate but decide to answer. “He had two friends. Derek Maynard and Cole Reynolds. Derek and Sasha weren’t wearing seat belts. They were both thrown from their vehicle.”
My head rises and lowers with Trent’s deep breath. “Has the survivor—this Cole guy—made contact with you?”
I close my eyes and enjoy the warmth of Trent’s chest, fighting the dread as he drags me back into the deep, dark place. “His family tried. I filed restraining orders and told the police that if any of them so much as approach me or Livie, I’d kill them all.” At the time, I was bound to a bed and unable to move, let alone murder. Still, the cops came through with passing the message along.
Now though, now I know I’m capable of anything.
Of murder.
Trent’s fingers stop drawing on my back and he hugs me protectively. “I’m going to suggest something, Kacey. Please don’t get mad.”
I don’t answer. I just listen to his heartbeat. I let it consume me. I feel it with every fiber of my body.
“I think you should meet this Cole guy. Maybe there’d be some sort of closure. You two are the only survivors of a horrific accident. You have something in common.”
Now I sit up. I sit up and stare at Trent. I stare at him like he’s grown five heads and set three of them on fire and the other two are eating the flaming heads. Pacing my racing heart and calming myself, I speak.
“I will say this once and never again.” My voice is even. I don’t yell, I don’t cry, I don’t shake. “I do not want to see, or talk to, or know Cole Reynolds.” The name twists my mouth with distain. “It was his car that plowed into ours. He handed his keys to his friend who then shattered my life to smithereens. I hope wherever he is, he is suffering. I hope everyone he loves has abandoned him. I hope he doesn’t have a dime and has to eat cat food and maggots. I hope he goes to sleep every night and wakes up reliving that terrible night. Reliving what he did to me. To Livie.” I let out a vacuous sigh and lie back down on Trent’s chest as if unloading that sheer magnitude of hatred is somehow liberating. “And then I hope his balls catch on fire.” My voice is cold and hard. I don’t bother to conceal the hatred of my words. I unleash full-heartedly. I revel in it. Hatred good. Forgiveness bad.
Silence takes over as Trent’s arms tighten around me, his chin resting on the top of my head. I feel a new tension in him and I’m not surprised. I stare at the wall and wonder just how screwed up Cole Reynolds’ life really is. I wonder if he’s resorted to working in a strip club to give his sister the life she deserves. I wonder if he had to abandon his dreams of college. I wonder if he winces in pain with every rain fall because his body is held together with metal.
But most of all, I wonder what Trent thinks of his pretty little fucked up redhead now.
***
I wake up to an empty room and a note on my pillow. Five words.
Had to go. I’m sorry.
I assume Trent has a new work contract. Still, I’m disappointed. I could use another dose of his body if he’s willing to administer. I roll out of bed and stretch, the horror of last night at Penny’s pushed aside in favor of my memories of a night with Trent. It’s been so long since I felt that. Scratch that. I never felt that. Sex was never like that with Billy. I cared deeply about him, but we were young and inexperienced. Trent’s not inexperienced. Trent knows exactly what he’s doing and he does it very well. And, something’s just different with Trent. He’s like ripe watermelon after a lifetime of thirst. He’s like air after years under water.
He’s like life.
Stage Six~ Withdrawal
Chapter Fourteen
I walk into Storm’s apartment to find Mia waiting expectantly like a wide-mouth bass while Dan, in striped boxers no less, tosses Cheerios into her mouth. I guess Storm and Dan made up. Relief swells inside me. I like seeing Storm with him.
He stops the game to take me in with a worried look. “How are you feeling today?”
“Good.” I smile as I pop a Cheerio into my mouth. Dan doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know how skilled I am at entombing horrid memories. I’m a master. In only hours, it’s all but forgotten and, as long as no one brings it up, it will stay that way. I walk over to Storm, who’s mixing batter in a big glass bowl. “Pancakes?” She holds up a ladle.
I nod, patting my stomach. “Did you see Livie this morning?”
Storm nods. “She left for school not long ago.” She drops a spoonful of pancake mix onto the griddle and the kitchen fills with the sizzling sound. She fixes me with the same worried look that Dan just gave me. “How are you feeling, really?”
“I’m … good. I’m better.”
“You sure? Dan knows a guy you can talk to if it’ll help.”
I shake my head. “I’m good. Seeing you here, alive and well, and serving me pancakes is all I need.” I rub her back with one hand as I grab a plate of food with the other. Yup, this is exactly what I need. Storm and Mia, and Livie and Trent. Even Dan. This all I need right now.
***
Me: I have the night off. You coming over?
I wait and wait but I get no text response from Trent. Impatient, I walk over to his apartment and knock. No answer. His place is pitch black. Then I wander out to the commons on a fake mission to inspect the hibachi. Really, I want to see if Trent’s bike is there. It is. I go and knock on his door again and wait. Still no response.
Cain won’t let either of us work that night. In fact, he’s forced Storm to take an entire week with danger pay. I’ll bet Dan is happy about that. By the light bounce in Storm’s step, I think she’s okay with it too. I would be happy too. If Trent was here.
I don’t hear from Trent the next day.
Or the next.
No text. No call. It’s like he’s dropped off the face of the Earth.
I go back to Penny’s on the third night with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The music’s dull, the lights are blinding, the customers’ annoying. It’s not the same without Trent and Storm there and I’m miserable. I can’t even force a smile while concentrating. I know Storm will be back in a few days. Trent though, I feel his absence like a knife in the center of my back. It’s painful, I can’t reach it to pull it out, and I’m sure it will be my demise if it stays as is.
Trent being gone eats at me all week. It makes me grouchy and snappy and generally unpleasant to be around. I’m well aware of it, and I don’t care. It makes me start fights with Livie on my one night off over what to watch on television. It makes her start to cry and call me a bitch. Livie never does that. It makes me lurk through the commons every night, casting furtive glances at 1D. The end result is the same. Darkness. Where ever he went, Trent’s not back.
What if he’s never coming back?
***
Day Five.
I scream in horror as I watch my parents’ Audi sink into the river, my eyes locked on the person trapped behind the wheel.
Trent.
I’m a sweaty tangled mess in my sheets when I come to, gasping. It was just a dream! Oh, Thank God! It takes me a good fifteen minutes to shake the image scalding my mind. Only now I can’t shake the idea. What if Trent did get into an accident? No one would call me. I’m nobody. I haven’t had a chance to be anybody yet.
I harass Storm to give me Dan’s number. Then I harass him to check the police reports of a ‘Trent Emerson’ in an accident. He tells me he can’t abuse his position like that. I snap and slam my phone against the counter. Then I call him back and apologize, and he concedes to bring his laptop so I can search the news, the obits. Anything.
It’s well into the night before I accept that Trent is probably alive and well. He’s just not with me.
***
Day Nine.
Wandering past Trent’s apartment door on my way to the gym, I freeze. I’m sure I just caught a whiff of something funky.
Ohmigod.
Trent’s dead.
I run to Tanner’s door and hammer on it until it flies open. Tanner’s standing there with his standard Batman pajama pants and deer-caught-in-the-headlight eyes. “Come on!” I grab his arm and yank him out. “You need to open 1D right now!”
Tanner uses his weight to resist me. “Wait a minute. I can’t just open—”
“I think Trent’s dead!” I shriek.
That gets him moving. I wait behind him with itchy feet as he fumbles with his giant key ring, his hands shaking. He’s bothered by this. Of course he is.
When he opens the door, I shove past him, not even considering what I’m rushing in to see. It’s dim and tidy inside. Sparse, even. I wouldn’t know someone lived there had it not been for a laptop sitting on the desk, Trent’s navy sweater hanging over the back of the couch, and the smell of his cologne lingering in the air.
Tanner moves past me, and does a quick sweep of the bedrooms and bathroom. He even opens the closet door. When he comes back to face me, it’s with a glower. “Why exactly did you tell me Trent was dead?”
I swallow, averting my gaze. “Oops.”
“Okay, get out of here.” He ushers me toward the door none to gently with a hand on my shoulder. I hear him as he lumbers away, grumbling something about drugs and hormones.
***
Day Thirteen.
Kick. Punch. Spin. Kick.
The bag takes my punishment without complaint. I slam and pound against it, all my anger and anxiety coming to a head. Trent has another life. That has to be it. A tanned, blonde, unbroken woman. They probably have two perfect little kids together who say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and haven’t learned to swear like sailors because of their mother’s incessant profanity. He must have run away to Miami and had a quarter-life crisis affair. I am nothing but someone’s quarter-life crisis and I fell for it like a mindless sap.
Kick Pivot. Spin. Kick.
This feels good.
I feel like I’m gaining control again.
Later, at Storm’s house, I sit on the couch and watch an episode of Sponge Bob with Mia. Lying next to me on the cushion is a dark-haired Ken doll. It kind of reminds me of Trent. I give serious consideration to stealing it, painting ‘Trent’ over its chest, and taking a lighter to where its man parts should be.
***
Day Seventeen.
“Was he real?” I mumble, staring at the phone in my hand. I didn’t buy this for myself, did I?
“What?” Livie asks, looking up at me in surprise.
“Trent, was he real? I mean, I could understand if he wasn’t real. Who could be that beautiful and sweet and perfect and want someone as fucked up as me?”
There’s a long pause and when I look over at Livie, she’s staring at me like I swallowed a bag of broken glass. I can tell she’s worried about me. Storm’s worried about me too. I think even Nate is worried.
***
Day Twenty.
Kick. Punch. Punch. Kick.
I’m raging against the bag.
Trent used me. To what sick end, I can’t decide. He obviously has a twisted fetish. He found a damaged woman and targeted her weakness with his dimples and his charm. He broke through my shell, wormed his way in to melt the ice over my heart. Then he abandoned me after uncovering just how fucked up I really am. But not before getting laid, of course.
And I let him in. It’s my fault! I’m the idiot.
I pound away on the twenty pound bag of sand. I love the sand. It absorbs all my emotions without disapproval and lets me use it without expectation.
“Angry about something?”
I whip around to find Ben standing behind me with his arms folded over his chest and a knowing smirk on his face. I turn back and execute a perfect kick. “Not at all.”
Ben walks around to catch the bag. He gestures as if to tell me to continue while he holds. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
I hoof the bag extra hard, and in a way I know Ben isn’t expecting. I hope it hits him square in the balls, just for bringing up Trent. It doesn’t, but it does earn a grunt. “What boyfriend?”
“The one who’s always at the bar.”
“Have you seen him at the bar lately?” Punch.
There’s a long pause. “No, suppose I haven’t.”
“Well, then, Lawyer Boy, what would you deduce from that? Or are you not able to? You’re not going to make a very good lawyer if that’s the case.”
Another kick to the bag. Another grunt from Ben.
“So you’re unattached again?”
“I’ve always been unattached.”
“Right. Well, then, how about we go out tonight?”
“I’m working.”
“So am I. Let’s grab an early dinner and head over together.”
“Sure, fine. Whatever,” I say without thinking. I don’t want to think.
Ben’s brow arches. “Seriously?”
I stop kicking now and wipe the layer of sweat from my brow with my forearm. “Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?”
“Well, yeah, but I was expecting a ‘drop dead’ answer instead.”
“I’m good for that too.”
“No, no!” Ben quickly answers, backing away from me. “I’ll come get you at six?”
“Fine,” I say, flying through the air with a perfect round house.
***
“What did I agree to?” I ask myself as I stand under the hot water, staring up at the showerhead, imagining another red serpent there to scare the daylights out of me. If I screamed loud enough, would Trent magically appear? Would he break down the door again? I wouldn’t let him leave this time. Not a chance.
I run into Livie in the kitchen. We’ve hardly talked since our fight. “I’m sorry, Livie,” is all I say.
She ropes her arm around my waist. “He’s a jerk, Kacey.”
“A stupid jerk,” I mumble.
“A big stupid jerk,” she answers. It’s a game we used to play when we were little. It drove our parents batty.
“A big stupid smelly jerk.”
“A big stupid smelly jerk with hemorrhoids.”
I slap my forehead. “Oh! And she pulls out the ’roids for the win!”
Livie giggles. “Where are you going?”
I slide out from her grip to put my shoes on. “Out.”
“Like on a date?” Livie’s face lights up.
I hold my hand up to stall her excitement. “Ben’s a meathead from work. We’re grabbing a bite and then he’s driving me to work and I’ll smash his nuts if he tries anything.”
There’s a knock on the door. “One meathead, coming right up!” I joke as I throw open the door, expecting to find Ben’s giant frame and obnoxious grin filling the doorway.
I stumble back two steps as the air is knocked out of my lungs.
It’s Trent.
Chapter Fifteen
“Hey,” he offers, sliding his aviator glasses off to show me those beautiful two-toned blue eyes that I could lose myself in.
I stare into those eyes, feeling the blood drain from my body as I watch the full gamut of emotions play across his face—relief, guilt, grief, bitterness, and then guilt again. I’m sure there’s an array of reactions showing on my own face but I couldn’t identify any one of them right now. And so I simply stand there, mouth agape, having lost all ability to speak.
Livie hasn’t though. Far from it. “You! Stay away from her!” She shrieks, charging forward. Her movement breaks my trance, and I just manage to grab her before she rakes ten layers of Trent’s skin off with flailing claws.
“Give us a minute, Livie,” I manage to say with complete calm. Inside, a torrent of sensations threaten to sweep me off my feet. The door beside me sways and I fight harder to pull air into my lungs as my heart speeds up. Trent is back. It’s as much a punch to the gut as a swell inside my chest. Like a bad addiction, I know it’s wrong, but, damn, does it leave me satisfied.
Livie turns and stomps toward her room but not before throwing one last icy glare Trent’s way. “Hemorrhoids! Remember that, Kacey!”
Her sudden outburst and the seriousness of her attitude ruptures my panic attack like a needle to a balloon, and I find myself chuckling. God, I love that girl.
Maybe it’s my laughter that eases Trent, gives him the crazy nerve to touch me, I don’t know. “Let me explain,” he begins, his hands moving to mine.
I recoil, my mercurial mood snapping back to anger. “Don’t you dare touch me,” I hiss.
He holds his hands out in front of him—palms outward—in a sign of peace. “Fair enough, Kace. But give me a chance to explain.”
My arms cross my chest and I hug myself tightly to keep from collapsing. Or reaching out to him, to his warmth. “Go ahead. Explain,” I growl, fighting the overwhelming urge to throw myself at his body, to not listen to any excuse because none of it really matters. It’s the past, and the way he makes me feel when I’m near him is all that matters right now. But I can’t do that. I can’t weaken.
His lips part to speak and my knees go wobbly. Oh God. If I have to stand in his presence for one more second, I am going to lose all my fight.
Ben appears around the corner like a knight in shining armor.
“Time’s up,” I declare a little too loud. I shoulder pass past Trent, slamming the apartment door shut. “Hey, Ben!” It’s obvious to anyone who knows me that this is all an act. I’m never this cheery. I’m never cheery, period.
Ben looks at me, and then at Trent, and I see the wheels turning. He knows he just interrupted something. He’s a smart meathead. “Do you want me to—” He gestures to the exit, like he’s suggesting he could leave.
“Nope!” I hook my arm through his and tug him forward, holding my head high and Ben’s arm close, letting my anger fuel my steps forward.
Inside, I feel the walls caving in.
***
“You’ve hardly touched your pasta,” Ben notes. We’re at an Italian restaurant five minutes away from Penny’s.
“I’ve touched it plenty,” I grumble as I stab it with my fork. “I’ve touched it so much that your pasta is jealous. I hear talk of a spaghetti smack down.”
“You’ve hardly eaten your pasta,” Ben rephrases but smirks.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Is it because of that guy?”
We’ve been sitting at this restaurant for forty-five minutes and this is the first question Ben asks me. The rest of the time, I listen to him drone on about the shot knee that kept him from a football scholarship, and about how he wants to be a criminal lawyer in Vegas because that’s where all the rich crooks live. I don’t know if he doesn’t ask me anything because he’s a narcissist or he realizes I don’t like answering questions. Either way, it has suited me just fine.
I sigh as I pull a twenty out of my purse and toss it on the table. “We should probably get going soon.”
He frowns as he hands the money back. “My treat.”
“I’m not having sex with you.”
“Whoa! Who said anything about sex? I’m just here for the meal and the pleasant company.” He acts all offended, but the glimmer in his irises tells me he’s teasing. An unattractive snort escapes me.
“Okay, fine. Mediocre company.” He shoves a piece of bread into his mouth and adds with a smile, “Hot piece of ass.”
“And that’s the Ben we know and love,” I confirm with an exaggerated nod and a sugar packet to his forehead.
“Seriously though,” Ben starts as he scrapes the last mound of pasta from his plate. I wait patiently for him to finish chewing and swallow. “Why’d you agree to come out with me? You’re obviously not over that other guy and, even if you were, I’m no idiot. I don’t know what that day in the gym was …”
Dammit. I am that obvious. I hope I’m not to Trent though. I don’t want him to see through me so easily. He’ll swoop in and melt my defenses with those smoldering baby blues. I shrug. “You don’t want me, Ben. I’m seven layers of fucked up with a side of batshit crazy.”
He grins but I catch the sadness in his eyes as he throws down a few bills to cover the meal. “I already knew that.”
“Well then why’d you ask me out? Especially after what I did to you that day in the gym?”
He shrugs. “Waiting for your next moment of full on crazy? I’ll be faster next time. In and out.”
I burst out laughing, Ben’s shameless honesty a welcome relief.
“I don’t know, Kace. I’m around a lot of sluts and airheads. You’re different. You’re smart and funny. And you can shrink a guy’s confidence like no other girl I’ve met.”
“I didn’t think anyone could shrink that swelled head of yours, Ben.”
He grins arrogantly. “Depends which head you’re talking about.”
***
“I hear Trent’s back in town?” Storm whispers to me as I pour shots of Patron for a bachelor party.
“Oh yeah?” I mutter, pursing my lips. I don’t know what else to say. I haven’t forgotten. I can’t get through a minute without his name popping into my mind, without remembering how incredible his touch feels against my skin, without wanting it all back the way it was for that short, magical period of time before he ripped my heart out of my chest and tossed it to the curb.
I hate him for making me feel like this. For giving me hope only to yank it all away. For pulling me above the water, helping me breathe again, before shoving my head back under.
So when I find him staring down at me from the other side of the bar near last call, I have to brace myself against the bar, anger and grief slamming into me with such force that I struggle to stay upright.
“What do you want?” I hiss.
“I need to talk to you.”
“No.”
“Please, Kacey.” That tone, that voice. Already, I felt it probing for my weak spot, a place to wiggle in and win me over. I won’t let it. Not this time.
“You had three weeks to talk to me and … oh wait!” I smack my forehead for effect. “You disappeared off the face of the fucking earth. That’s right. I almost forgot.”
“Just give me five minutes,” he pleads, leaning forward.
“Fine! Go ahead. This is the perfect time and place to talk.” My arms fly out, exaggerating how much this is not the perfect time and place to talk.
Trent’s jaw tenses. “I mean it, Kacey. Five minutes, in private. I need to explain something. I need … you.”
“Oh, you need me? Interesting.” I force the words through clenched teeth. Inside, the glue that holds me together strains against that word. Need. Trent needs me. “Fine.” I slap my towel down onto the bar and holler, “back in five, Storm.”
She looks over, sees Trent, glances at me with concern, but then nods.
“Come with me.” I stomp past him, acutely aware that Nate and Ben are following close, but I continue. I march past Jeff and Bryan, the two bull dog bouncers who watch over the private rooms. They don’t try to stop me. I’m sure my stiff spine and scowl that says “back the fuck away before I choke you with your own tongue” has something to do with that.
My leg flies forward to kick open the door to an available room. Spinning on my heels, I stand with arms folded across my chest, watching Trent’s lean body and his apprehensive face come towards me. Jerking my head toward the room, I command, “Get in.”
“Kacey …”
“You said private. How much more private can you get than a private room?” I ask, my tone coated with ice.
With a defeated sigh and a small nod, Trent passes through. Behind him, I see Ben lean in to say something to Nate. It seems to keep the beast at bay. Ben heads toward me with a look of concern. “You okay, Kacey?”
“What do you think, Ben?”
His chin furrows in thought. “I think I’ll stand guard out here. I won’t come in. Not unless I hear something that sounds bad, deal?”
“Deal.” I offer him a small nod of appreciation. I think, after our sordid past, Ben and I have come to an understanding. I may even call him a friend.
I storm into the room, slamming the door behind me. Inside is a small dimly lit space with a black lounge chair and mood music, different from what plays out in the main club area. Storm says they have staff to thoroughly clean and sanitize the rooms after each client leaves. Even if that’s not true, right now I don’t care.
I stalk over to where Trent stands and I shove him backward into the lounge chair. Then my hand fumbles with the side zipper of my skirt.
“What are you …” Trent begins to ask but his words die as I unzip my skirt and let it drop to the ground. I step out of the skirt as my hands move to unbutton my gauzy blouse, starting at the top, sliding buttons through eyelets deftly.
“Kacey, no.” Trent leans forward.
My three inch heel slamming into his chest forces him back into his seat.
“This is what you came for, isn’t it? This is what you need?” My tone is as cold as a deep freeze. “What you’ve always wanted?” I toss my shirt on the floor and glower back at him in nothing but my bra, panties, and heels. “This is the part where you tell me I’m so beautiful. So say it. Say it so we can get this over with, and you can disappear again.” My voice wavers a bit at the end and I clam up, not trusting it right now.
“No, Kacey. Jeez.” Trent slides off the chair onto his knees, his hands finding their way to my thighs to hold them delicately.
“No touching the girls. Did you forget the rules already?” I sneer at him.
His eyes haven’t left mine, and in them I see a torrent of indescribable emotion that threatens to melt all of my defenses. I have to break his gaze and look away, a lump forming in my throat that I can’t seem to shove down.
“I’m sorry. I never wanted to cause you more pain that you’ve had to endure.”
“Really? Leaving me a vague note the morning after Storm’s attack—after we have sex for the first time—and then disappearing for almost three weeks is your way of not causing me more pain?” My voice cracks and I grit my teeth. I hate my voice.
His head bows forward against my belly as his hands slide up to my hips before moving back down to my thighs again. They feel so good. I don’t want them to feel good. Damn, traitorous thighs. Fight it, Kacey. Fight it.
“Kacey, I was wrong.”
I swallow. “About?”
