“Yes. One hundred percent fair.” There’s a teasing darkness in his stare, and I realize I’m in trouble. I watch as he sits back on his haunches, towering over me on the bed, those blue eyes leaving my face to drift over the length of my body, in no obvious rush. “This isn’t fair yet,” he murmurs. Leaning forward, two hands settle on the edges of my dress on my shoulder. He pushes down.
I gasp as my dress—a stretchy tunic style—slides off with a little bit of tugging on Trent’s part to get it out from under me. Trent’s thumb runs along the scar on my shoulder as his hands move down the length of my body, taking my dress with him. I’m left in nothing but my strapless bra and a thong. I hold my breath as Trent soaks up every square inch of my body—every curve, every detail.
He leans forward, his hand sliding beneath my back. “Still not quite fair.” I feel his fingers play with my bra hook and I suck in a gasp. He wouldn’t. The supporting tension in my bra gives way as Trent unhooks it. When his hand moves away, it comes with all covering of my br**sts. “There. That’s fair.”
I. Will. Not. Lose.
I’m determined not to move, even as I lay all but bared to Trent’s prying eyes and evil smirk. I’m mulish enough to believe I can do it too. But then Trent leans forward, his mouth only inches from my br**sts as I had done to him, and I’m fighting tooth and nail against the urge to squirm. I gasp as his breath coasts over my skin and my ni**les instantly harden. When he peers up at my face, I have to close my eyes. I can’t handle the look in his. It’s full of heat and desire and intentions. He chuckles softly as his attention shifts further down. Cool air skates down my abdomen. “You have an incredible body, Kacey. Mind-boggling.”
I make an unintelligible sound of acknowledgement.
“I mean, I could just stare at it. And touch it. All day long.” I don’t know what it is about Trent right now—his smooth voice, his actions, his proximity to my body— but desire is tearing through my will power and congregating in my lower abdomen, planning an insurgence.
And he hasn’t even touched me.
I peek through one eye to see the tops of Trent’s shoulders, straining with muscle as he shifts further down, stopping below my belly button. I struggle to see the clock. Another three minutes. I can last three minutes. I can … I can … Trent’s index finger runs along the front of my panties just as I had done to him and I let out a soft moan before I can stop myself. Looking down, I see him watching me now, biting his bottom lip, his arrogant smirk gone.
His eyes stay locked on mine as his index finger curls under the elastic band and begins to slide down.
Like a violent wave crashing into me, I come completely undone. Swirls of haze and light fill my vision and I’m floating on seven layers of clouds, my muscles gone from rigid as a pole to pliable putty, and I don't ever want to lose this high.
With deep ragged pants, I faintly notice Trent hovering above me again a moment later. Hot lips touch my collar bone as he grazes it.
“You lose,” he whispers in my ear with a soft chuckle. Then he’s off the bed and pulling his jeans on. “Tanner’s outside.”
“No I didn’t.” I mumble as an afterthought, breathless. How the hell can he call that losing?
***
“You okay here alone?” Trent whispers as I sip a glass of orange juice and watch the sweaty man work on the door. When I raise an eyebrow, he chuckles. “Of course you are. I forgot you kicked my ass.”
“A bag of sand kicked your ass, remember? Where you off to?”
His hand touches the small of my back and he presses me against his body as he whispers in my ear. “Cold shower.” Shivers run down my spine and I’m ready to drag him back into Storm’s room, but he makes a beeline out of the apartment before I can get my claws into him.
“Who lost, again?” I call out in a high-pitched voice, smiling.
I quietly watch Sweaty Door Guy work as I read through a magazine, still glowing from the morning with Trent; enough that this guy’s hairy ass crack peeking out from loose faded blue jeans doesn’t faze me. Livie has staggered through, half asleep and on her way to school. When I suggest she skip the day, she looks at me like I suggested she marries the repair man. Livie doesn’t miss school for anything.
I’m reading an article on Ten Ways to Say You’re Sorry without Saying the Word when Storm’s soft voice calls out, “Can I please get by?”
Sweaty Door Guy cranes his neck, sees Storm, and fumbles with his hammer as he clears a path for her curvy frame. She stalks through, matching my smile, two tall Starbucks in her hands. “Do I need to change my sheets?” She winks.
“Ohmigod, Storm!” Fire burns my face as I see Sweaty Door Guy eyes widen. Storm can be inappropriate sometimes after all. I quickly change the topic. “How’s Mia?”
The reminder of last night dashes her humor and I regret asking. “She’ll be fine. I just hope she doesn’t remember any of it. She doesn’t need to remember her father like that.”
“What’s going to happen to him?”
“Well, apparently he broke parole. That added to the ‘break and enter’ should give him at least five years in prison. That’s what Dan thinks, anyway. I hope he’ll clean himself up by then.” She takes a long draw of her coffee and I notice her hand shaking. She’s still rattled by it all. Rightfully so. If I pull my head out of this distractive Trent sex cloud I’m stuck in, last night is still deep under my skin.
“I swear, I wasn’t sure Nate wasn’t going to throw the cops out of the way and rip his head off.” Storm adds and I nod in agreement.
There’s a long pause. “So … Dan, huh?”
Storm blushes. “I was up early. I couldn’t sleep so I brought him a coffee. Needed to thank him for everything. He’s nice.”
“A coffee? That’s all?” My brow arches.
“Of course that’s all. What do you think I’m going to do? Give the guy a blow job outside my apartment door?”
A harsh coughing erupts behind us. Sweaty Door Guy, covering up a gasp.
It’s Storm’s turn to flush, and I smile with satisfaction. Clearly she forgot we had an audience. “Are you saying you’re not interested?”
“No, I didn’t say that, but …” she toys with the lid of her cup.
“But what?”
“Excuse me,” Dan’s voice interrupts us and we both jump.
“Speak of the devil,” I murmur, covering my smile with another sip of coffee. Storm’s face has turned purple. I know what she’s thinking. She’s wondering how long he’s been listening.
Dan steps over the remnant door frame. “Sorry to bother you again.”
“No bother,” I chirp, grinning.
He nods appreciatively and I’m sure I see a faint blush creep into his cheeks. “Just wanted to let you know that I got that safety order to your landlord. The gates should be fixed shortly.”
Storm’s eyes widen. “Already?”
He grins. “I know a guy who knows a guy, who knows a guy.”
“Thank you so much, Officer Dan,” she says and I’m hit with a weird visual of them in a sex scene with her addressing him in the exact same way. I give my head a shake. Too many hours at the club.