The door pushes forward and I lift my gaze as he steps in. I back up to give him room, but the backs of my calves hit the end of the bed. There isn’t enough space for the two of us. Not with someone like Trent, whose presence commands an entire arena.
His eyes travel from the tips of my toes, up my legs, and over my chest. As if I have no control over my reaction, or rather my body can’t help lighting up at his perusal, my nipples bead into erect points, goosebumps cover my flesh, and I have to press my legs together at his unhurried gaze.
He withdraws his hand from behind his back, and hanging from his index finger is my red satin thong. My mouth opens but his throaty chuckle cuts me off. “I think you must have missed this. It was in the back of the drawer. I swear.”
I reach out and snatch it from his hands.
“Fuck me.” The words leave his lips a prayer. “I don’t suppose you’d let me see you wearing the matching set as a reward?” His voice is smooth like caramel candy but the words, they’re poison. The worst kind that eats away at the carefully constructed walls I’ve built.
An odd equilibrium settles in my belly, and my quick response isn’t there. The words that usually shoot out of my mouth without much thought are muddled by the buzz of energy that thrums through my body. He’s only making a joke ... because that’s what Trent does. But the heat in his eyes doesn’t hold a punchline. No. Instead, it mirrors the lust reverberating with every beat of my heart.
His lips lift at the edges and he shakes his head, just enough that his hair falls forward into his eyes. My fingers long to reach up and brush it back. But I won’t. Instead, I clench them behind my back, and the fabric in my hands reminds me I’m not wearing panties.
He steps forward, his gaze laser focused, and my breath catches in the back of my throat.
“The fever’s back?” he asks with another step forward. His eyebrows lower and I almost feel sorry for hampering their otherwise perfect shape. He’s close. So close.
A wise move would be to retreat, but I’m stuck between his body and the side of the bed. Rendered immobile from the intensity of his stare.
His hands graze the skin on my arms and he dips his chin, lowering his mouth. Slowly. Steady. Purposefully. His breath fans across my cheek and my eyes flutter shut. This is a bad idea. I shouldn’t want it. But right now there’s nothing that can keep me from giving into his kiss. For once, I want to throw out my well laid plans and hard work, and trade them for a night of pleasure. A night of carnal bliss. With Trent.
Only he doesn’t kiss me. His lips land on my forehead instead.
We stand, just like that, while time ticks by with his mouth pressed to my forehead. He steps back and his eyes are lit with surprise. “You’re not hot.”
Oh, but I am, so why don’t you kiss me already.I mash my lips together and exhale a rough forced breath. “I’m fine, Trent.” But I’m not. Not at all. My emotions reverberate in my chest and I’m caught in such a predicament. I don’t want to be like my mother, but for the first time in my life I consider the temptation.
Trent runs his hand over his forehead and through his hair, pushing it off his face. His stare goes straight through me, so deep, and I fear he can see me. The longing, the desire, the want. The uncertainty. All that’s broken. He nods his head. “We saved you a plate. Come eat with us.”
“Oh, okay.” I try to shake off the disappointment that shouldn’t come with his invite.
He backs up until he hits the door and his lips kick up with a smile. “The guys were worried you’d go razor happy if we didn’t.”
“Wonder why they’d be concerned?” I roll my eyes and Trent’s soft chuckle fills me with joy.
“So, you’re coming?” His hand rests on the doorknob, and though there’s still a smile at his lips, his eyes are filled with something else. Concern? He’s looking out for me. Because we’re friends. Because I was sick. That’s all this is. Irritation flares. I’m mad at myself for getting caught up in his gorgeous eyes and kind soul. Angry for wanting something I shouldn’t.
“I said I was.” I huff and step forward, expecting him to open the door.
“Hold up, Sugar Tits.” His grip on the door tightens. “You’re not coming out until you put on a sweatshirt.”
I twist my lips into a frown and grab the big sweatshirt I laid out earlier, tugging it over my head. “Turn around, no peeking.”
“You’re fine now.” He gestures to my shirt.
“Yeah, but ...” I hold up the underwear he returned.
“Fuck me.” His head bangs back against the door, his eyes shut, and he turns to grip the molding. “You aren’t wearing panties. You know how fucking sexy that is?”
I slide my shorts off just long enough to put on my underwear, my eyes trained on Trent’s back to make sure he doesn’t sneak a peek. Or maybe hoping he will. God, I’m such an idiot. “I’m guessing a lot.”
“I’m just pissed I didn’t notice the lack of panty lines. Too distracted by your breasts. Has anyone ever told you how amazing your rack is, Lexi?”
“You can turn around now,” I say, and he turns just in time to catch my eyes roll.
“Come on, food’s getting cold.” Trent opens the door and waits for me to pass through first.
When I hear him murmur “Sugar Tits,” I spin around and pin him with a glare. “Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry. Just imagining that’s how they’d taste.” He waggles his tongue inside his open mouth.
Fuck. So much for clean panties. I tug my sweatshirt lower on my thighs and march to the table without another look back. The entire meal I try not to imagine Trent’s glorious tongue tracing every inch of my skin.
And fail miserably.
