“Like slashing my wrist?”
Max shrugged. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“I won’t lie, Max. I’ve been tempted. You’ll be happy to know I’ve chosen herbal therapy instead.”
“I suppose it’s a better alternative.”
“It’s medicinal and more effective than Prozac.”
“I’m hoping to keep you so busy in the next few weeks you won’t have time to wallow in your misery.”
“Good. When do we leave for London?”
“Five days.”
“Can I stay here until I find something permanent?”
“Of course you can. The guest room upstairs is available for as long as you need it.”
“Would you do me a favor?”
“I’d do anything for you,” Max said softly.
My gut twisted upon hearing those words. It would be so convenient to fall into his arms and let him make it better, but I knew in my heart that I didn’t love him the way he deserved. I could feel the sting of tears again. In a voice raw with emotion, I croaked, “You have no idea how much you mean to me.”
“I know I’m not the solution, darling, but I’m here if you need me.”
“Thank you, Max.”
“What’s the favor?”
“Would you or one of your minions go to my apartment and pack a bag for me? I can’t go back there.”
“Make a list of what you want, and I’ll get it later.”
The next few days sort of went by in a blur. I was high every waking moment. Each time I’d start to come down, the pain and anxiety would overwhelm me. I missed Cole and our life desperately. It felt like I’d had a limb amputated, and the phantom pains were driving me crazy. I was fighting a couple of urges. The need to cut was paramount and getting stronger and stronger. Despite everything Max said to reassure me, I felt like a loser. I was tempted to throw myself at Cole’s feet and grovel, but I knew he wouldn’t change his mind. Not with his geisha in the next room. My hatred for Noriko was growing with each passing day. Thank God we were leaving the country. There was no telling what I’d do next.
The plane ride to London was uneventful. So far, I hadn’t laid eyes on Trent, which was just as well. My mood swings were terrible, and I wasn’t fit company for anyone but Max. He was the only one who put up with my snarly temper, and I could accept his sympathy knowing it was driven by love and not pity. I didn’t want the other models to hear about my breakup because the gossiping would start. Anyone I looked at would be automatically entered into the contest with me as the ultimate prize. The malicious texts and hurtful gifs would cross continents and blow up servers with the utter juiciness of the news.
We were booked at the Millennium Hotel on Sloane Street in Knightsbridge, where Harrods and a million other high-end shops were located. The photo shoot was expected to take anywhere from five to six days, depending on the weather conditions. One of the shoots would be out in the country in some moldy castle. I hardly paid attention to our itinerary. I was depressed and getting more despondent with each passing day. Even wanking didn’t help my state of mind. When it was all said and done, sex was meaningless without the right person in my bed, and no amount of masturbation could replace a warm body.
Right then, I was sitting at a small table in Max’s luxury suite, listening to his lecture on my poor eating habits, which had gone by the wayside since I’d left home.
“You’ve lost weight, and I don’t have time to get you refitted. Eat,” he insisted, pushing a plate toward me.
“Do I have to?”
“You’re as bad as a five-year-old.”
“And you sound like your Aunt Sadie.”
“It’s my Jewish mothering gene,” Max said, smiling at me indulgently.
I scanned the large selection covering a silver platter and made a moue of disgust. “What is all this shit?”
“I got you an assortment of breakfast food, hoping you’d find something appealing.”
The apple was mushy, and the cheese tasted like…ass. And not the good kind either. It was gross. Max watched me like a hawk, worried by my loss of appetite. I couldn’t function without something to fuel my body, but I’d subsisted on coffee and cigarettes this past week, and it was starting to show.
“Come on, Sloan,” Max cajoled. “Have some oatmeal. It’ll stick to your ribs.”
I spooned a mouthful of the oats and spat them out immediately. “Don’t like it.”
Max lost it. “Jesus, Sloan! What the hell would you like?”
“How about some toast and eggs?”
“There’s toast right there.” Max pointed at the triangles of buttered toast on the sterling silver rack. “And there are two soft boiled eggs waiting to be cracked.”
“I don’t like soft boiled.”
“Your childish behavior is starting to get old,” Max remarked scornfully.
“Whatever,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Don’t you dare dismiss me?”
There was a knock on the door, which saved the situation from getting any nastier. We were both on edge, and although Max’s intentions were good, I was starting to resent his constant mothering. I yanked the door open and took in the sight of Trent Hamilton, my walking wet dream. He’d dyed his hair, as promised, and the deep auburn enhanced his summer blue eyes. This version was a lot better than the blond or brunet. He looked good enough to eat.
“Wow,” I commented earnestly. “You look fabulous.”
“You like?” He smiled, and the lone dimple winked appealingly.
“Very much. Did you just get in?”
“Uh-huh. Are you staying in this suite?”
“No. I’m being force-fed by the boss.”
“I’m on the sixth floor,” Trent said.
“So am I.”
“You all are,” Max interrupted. “I booked ten rooms on the same floor.”
“We should party,” I joked.
“Yeah?”
“What you need to do is have breakfast,” Max said sternly. “Get your skinny butt back here and eat.”
“He’s such a mom,” I whined. “Come and sit with us.”
Trent grinned and followed me into the room. My mood had improved exponentially, and the lightness in my step mirrored the overall feeling of relief in seeing his handsome face. Suddenly, I was very hungry for more than food.
“Do you want some coffee?” I asked, pouring him a cup.
He nodded, devouring me with his electric gaze. “I’ll have whatever you’re offering.”
Chapter 20
The elevator dinged, and Trent and I stepped onto the sixth floor. Max had practically thrown us out of his suite, telling us he had a thousand things to do before we left for Harrods. Our first day was going to be hectic, trying on outfits and then driving off to our photo shoot in another location. Max gave us approximately forty-five minutes to shower and shave, knowing that realistically it would be more like an hour before anyone made an appearance. The hallway was deserted. I knew it would turn chaotic as soon as the models, assistant photographers, and technical staff began their daily preparations, but for now, it was peaceful and gave us a chance to talk without worrying about the rumor mill.
“You look tired,” he said, caressing me with his sultry gaze.
“Don’t you start.”
“I was worried when you ran off the other day. Did my session with Jason frighten you?”
“A little bit. Are you a sadist?”
“Do you think this is the time and place to have this discussion?”
I snorted a nervous laugh. “I guess not.”
“Why don’t we go to your room?”
“Tin’s fast asleep.”
“Who’s he?”
“Fellow model and bestie.”
“Then we’ll use mine.” Trent clasped my hand and tugged me down the long corridor. His room was several doors away from mine, and he’d obviously lucked out and didn’t have to share. He pulled out his key card and swiped.
The click releasing the lock was loud in the surrounding silence―as noticeable as my heartbeat thudding against my chest. I’d thought about this moment for days, wondering how I’d react when I finally laid eyes on this man who’d been invading most of my daydreams. Now that he was here in the flesh, I was nervous as hell. I hadn’t been with anyone but Cole since the start of our relationship. Previous to him, my experience was limited. Trent was a seasoned Dom who had his pick of anyone in the scene. Why would he be interested in me? I was vanilla personified.
He must have sensed my discomfort because he didn’t touch me when we entered the room. Instead, he picked up the phone and called room service, asking for a pot of tea, two cups, and some strawberries, brown sugar, and sour cream.
“I’ve never had all three in combination,” I noted, referring to the strawberries.
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” he said.
“That seems to be a recurring theme with you,” I joked. I felt marginally more comfortable. At least he didn’t have his predatory glare in place. In fact, he looked quite ordinary—if you can call a drop-dead gorgeous redhead an everyday occurrence.
“Relax,” Trent said, “I’m not planning to jump your bones.”
“Thank Christ, because I don’t carry smelling salts.”
His laughter was reassuring. “I don’t wear my Dom hat 24/7.”
“Have you ever been in a normal relationship?”
“Being dominant is my norm.”
“Whatever happened to down and dirty sex?”
“Always an option.”
“Good to know,” I said, drawn by the glint in his eyes and his mischievous smile.
“Where’s Cole?” Trent asked casually.
“We broke up.” I turned away from his gaze and stepped closer to the window. I didn’t want to expand on the subject; it would only upset me. The ache in my heart was a constant reminder of my loss, even though it had been over a week since we’d split.
“I’m sorry.”
“Shit happens.” I leaned my forehead against the windowpane as Trent pressed up behind me. He moved my collar aside, exposing my neck, and kissed it lightly. His breath was warm against my skin, and the goose bumps appeared automatically.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, turning me around so we could see each other’s facial expression. He brushed my quivering lips with his thumb, knowing instinctively how I was swamped with feelings for my former partner. “I’m a good listener, Sloan.” There was tenderness this morning, and a softer side to Trent I never would have suspected underneath the steely exterior.
I sighed. “I’m so tired of discussing Cole. Kiss me instead.”
He dimpled with pleasure. “Works for me,” he said one second before his mouth covered mine. There was nothing tender about this kiss though. It was hungry and aggressive, very much what I was expecting from Trent, and he didn’t disappoint. I moaned as his tongue swept through my mouth possessively. He yanked me closer, grinding against me. The bulge in his jeans reassured me. We were clearly on the same page, despite my momentary slip into melancholia.
“Trent.” I retreated, stepping back to catch a breath.
“I want you,” Trent affirmed, hauling me back. He kissed me again, claiming ownership of my mouth. He sucked in my lower lip and bit down gently.
“I’m not exactly immune to your charms,” I muttered when he finally let me go. I was blindsided by the power exuding from him in waves.
“You’ve made me work for this,” he said huskily. He glanced at his watch and frowned. “But we don’t have much time.”
“Please don’t stop,” I begged.
His eyes turned a deeper blue with unrestrained lust. My tone of voice and the word please must have acted like some sort of accelerant because he reached for me again.
“I’m so close.” I grabbed his hand and pressed it on my crotch.
“Sloan,” he breathed, giving in and tugging on the zipper. He released my cock in one swift move, and I heard a soft gasp as he curled his fingers around my swollen shaft. “How come I didn’t hear about this?”
“I don’t advertise,” I said hotly.
“You’re in an industry where people run around naked all the time. This was bound to come up somewhere in a conversation,” he said.
“I don’t do naked.”
“If I were as endowed as you, I’d have no such qualms.”
“Not comfortable displaying these bones.”
“Oh, baby, there’s nothing bony about this.” Trent sighed, handling my cock like it was a precious jewel.
“I take it you’re a size queen.”
“Never a queen,” Trent said, “but very impressed by your size.”
“Show me?”
He drew me toward the bed but stopped when we heard a knock on the door.
“Motherfucker.” I cussed at the untimely intrusion.
“Hold that thought,” he said, giving my dick a slight squeeze.
“No choice.”
It was room service, and I turned away from the waiter so he wouldn’t see the enormous boner jutting out of my pants. I waited impatiently as Trent made small talk and signed the slip. When the guy finally left, I hurled myself at Trent and slammed him up against the wall, kissing him fiercely. “Are we doing this or what?”
“Oh, yeah,” he growled, “definitely doing this.”
Somehow we made it to the bed with me on the bottom. Trent held my face between his large hands and plied me with hungry kisses while he rocked back and forth over my cock. He still had his pants on, and the friction from his rough denim against my tender skin was excruciating. “Please,” I said, “take your jeans off.”
He managed to unbutton and unzip in record time, shoving his clothes down his thighs while I did the same. We rubbed against each other, slippery from our combined fluids. It was heavenly, and I was on the verge of coming, as was he.
“You’re fucking delicious,” he praised, mashing his erection against mine. He invaded me with his tongue and I opened up for him, sucking on the warm flesh eagerly in perfect rhythm with the back-and-forth motion of our hips. I clutched him and cried out as I spewed warm cum all over him, only seconds before he joined me in a fierce mingling of body fluids. It was hot, messy, and intense, and suddenly I was suffused with guilt.
Trent collapsed and continued to undulate against me. “What a lovely appetizer,” he remarked, kissing the soft curve between my neck and shoulder. My silence tripped an alarm and Trent pushed away and looked me in the eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I blurted. Extricating myself, I dressed in record time and headed for the door. “I’ll see you after I shower.”
“Sloan,” Trent called out, “don’t go!”
I couldn’t stick around for another minute. My reaction to our passionate interlude was unexpected. It probably meant nothing to Trent, but it was clearly significant to me. He was the first man I’d been with since the breakup, and I refused to burden him with my emotional baggage. I needed some privacy because I was on the verge of another crying jag, and the last thing I wanted was a witness.
Tin was stirring when I walked into our room. “Qu’est-ce qui se passe?”
“It’s all good,” I mumbled, hurrying past him and barricading myself in the bathroom. I stripped quickly, struggling with my pants as they clung to my groin, sticky with conjoined fluids. I turned the shower on full blast, letting the stinging spray pelt my face and chest, and then I gradually sank to my knees and sobbed. I couldn’t stop the tears. The immense sorrow pressed heavily against my chest, and I grieved for the end of our five-year relationship. Being with Trent only reinforced the sad truth. My union with Cole was really over. I couldn’t have been more grief-stricken if Cole had died. My harsh sobs racked my body and were loud enough to concern Tin. Soon, he was banging on the door and begging to be let in.
I crawled out of the shower stall and unlocked the bathroom door. Tin crouched down and reached
for me, holding me in his arms as I continued to cry, all the while crooning softly in French. His words were reassuring and his tolerant attitude even better. Tin loved me unconditionally and knew every detail of my life―the good, bad, and almost every ugly moment. He had never judged, only supported.
“Arrête de pleurer, mon chéri.”
“I’m trying,” I wailed, angry at myself for this humiliating display.
“Did Trent hurt you?”
“Not at all.”
“Then what is it?”
“We messed around.”
“Aren’t you the lucky one?”
This set off another round of weeping until finally there were no more tears. I exhaled a few more shuddering breaths and let go of Tin. My loss of control was over for the moment.
“Sloan, chéri, it’s not the end of the world.”
“I know.”
“In terms of a replacement, you couldn’t have picked a hotter guy.”
I barked out a raw laugh. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”
“Very magnetic.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He has this aura about him.”
“Tin, you don’t need to sell me on the guy. I just came all over him.”
“Vraiment?”
“Really.”
Someone knocked on the bedroom door. I pushed Tin away. “That’s probably Trent. Hold him off for a minute while I get ready.”
“With pleasure.”
“I didn’t mean it literally, Tin.”
“Possessive already?”
“You know I don’t like to share.”
Tin rolled his eyes. “I know.”
“Get your continental self out there and charm him with small talk.”
“J’y vais.”
Chapter 21
By the time I walked back into Trent’s room, I was in complete control. A few drops of eye brightener were all I needed to wipe out any outward signs of my pity party. Trent was discerning enough not to press for more information. He had showered and shaved as well and was wearing a pair of black jeans with a black turtleneck. The monochromatic theme complemented his new palette. Before the dye job, Trent was an arresting man. Now, he was esthetically perfect. The deep auburn made his fair skin glow and intensified the color of his eyes. There were a few freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose I’d overlooked before. They seemed fitting on a redhead and softened his otherwise untouchable appearance. My heart skipped a beat when he cast a discerning look in my direction.
Vessel (Cutting Cords Series Book 2) Page 13