by Carrie Lomax
“What wasn’t?” His voice rumbled through her, a physical sensation more than sound.
“Orgasm during intercourse.”
Trent laughed. “You’re so clinical. And if you didn’t know it was possible, you were absolutely doing it wrong.”
“For once, I agree.”
“I’m not done,” Trent shifted so she was beneath him, face down. He pushed one knee up high and opened her legs as far as they would go and pushed the tip of his cock inside her. Only the tip, back and forth across the sensitive nerves just above her entrance.
Janelle gasped as her body strained to meet his. “More.”
“More what?”
“I want your cock, Trent. All of it.”
He drove himself into her, on a mission this time, the steady fill-withdraw rhythm driving Janelle higher again. She got there first, barely. He followed hard, pounding into her with a ferocity she’d feel later.
Spent, Trent collapsed on top of her, his weight pressing her body into the mattress. Janelle traced the outline of his shoulder with her finger. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
Janelle framed his face with both hands and pressed her lips to his forehead. “I needed to feel good for once.”
“So did I.” Softly, he kissed her back. “But, if you want to have any more fun, one of us is going to have to hit the convenience store downstairs.”
Janelle wiggled off him and into her clothes. “I’ll go.”
“You don’t have any money.”
“Oh. Right.” Annoyed embarrassment flooded her, chasing away the last flush of arousal. Trent rolled off the bed and pulled on his wrinkled trousers.
“I’ll go with you.”
His words made her heart flutter, the way it had the day she’d arrived and been terrified out her mind, only in a nice way this time. Trent wasn’t going to make her do the walk of shame alone.
In the small drugstore, Janelle peeled off down a separate aisle as they looked for the prophylactics. They met at the end, both spotting the perfunctory selection hanging on the wall behind a careworn, middle-aged woman missing a front tooth.
Trent leaned over and whispered, “Let’s get the ten-pack.”
Janelle fought a grin and lost. The box landed on the counter. Trent produced cash. Her smile wilted. Independence. She craved it even more than she did Trent’s body. The kept woman thing wasn’t her style. Why had she ever thought it could be?
It that moment, it was blindingly clear where she’d gone wrong with Ben.
At nineteen, she’d clung to him like a vine to a tree trunk as she’d struggled through college. After, she’d been determined to follow him to Texas, get married, and have kids. As much as he’d loved her, maybe he’d wanted to experience dating before settling down to start a family.
Maybe, she’d been a little selfish. A lot selfish.
It might’ve been good for her to give dating an honest try, too, instead adopting a defensive crouch. She’d have had some experience before she met Trent and not bumbled around like a fool. Not that he appeared to mind. Still…
“Janelle?”
Ice stiffened her spine as she turned to the man behind them and started. A middle-aged man, paunchy and balding, gaped at her as he held a phone dangling from his fingers.
She blanched, her knuckles white against the counter edge. Trent grabbed the shopping bag with one hand and her elbow with the other. “Excuse us.”
“Wait. Janelle.”
“This is Rachel,” Trent interjected. There was no way for him to know this was her Rich Jerk. Running away would only arouse suspicion, even if she could move her leaden feet. What lousy timing. “Rachel Stone, business operations manager for TMS. We’re here for the conference.”
“Coincidence. Kyle Reygar, Sarasota Consultants.” Kyle placed a magazine and a pack of gum on the counter. “Do you have a card, Rachel?”
Trent dropped his hand to the small of her back. “Here’s mine. Nice meeting you.”
Then he was propelling her forward, their rumpled clothes and hair leaving no doubt about what they’d been doing even if Kyle hadn’t seen their purchase.
“That was him,” Trent muttered tightly as they escaped to the elevator. “The guy who stole your wallet.”
“Yes.” Janelle sank against the wall, feeling every bit as dirty and used as she had when she’d stumbled out of the hotel after meeting Kyle.
Trent trapped her body against the wall with one braced arm. Janelle leaned her forehead against his chest and breathed. The shame dissipated, but a stain remained.
“We don’t have to do anything tonight.” He brushed a strand of her tangled hair away from her face, skimming her cheek with his knuckle.
“I want to,” she said immediately. Janelle liked being with him so much. Too much. Trent wasn’t for keeps. She couldn’t make the same mistake she had with Ben. Which meant she had to make the most of their time together now.
The elevator dinged. Janelle took Trent by the hand and led him back to the cocoon of their room.
* * *
Trent woke to darkness—velvety, thick, and complete. The red numbers of the clock on the nightstand read five-forty. He was hot, his body weighed down by Janelle’s pliant body. She stirred beneath his arm.
He buried his nose in her hair. Last night, they’d made love again, slowly this time, savoring one another’s bodies. They’d talked into the darkness about nothing, about everything.
Janelle’s breathing changed. Trent skimmed his palm up her side, marveling at the fine strength of her thighs, the indentation of her waist, the ridges of her ribs and the generous swell of her breast. He ran his thumb over her nipple. She shuddered in response.
Janie was awake, all right.
He absorbed her gasp of pleasure with his lips. She tasted of sleep. A moment later she pulled away and reached across him, flattening her breasts over his chest as she pulled a condom out of the rapidly depleting supply. He tasted her gasp of pleasure, spiced with sleep. A moment later she kissed her way down his body to his semi-erect cock. She was voracious. So much for nice, sweet Janie. Fuck, he could get used to waking up like this.
All the more reason not to. This was only a distraction. Trent wound his fingers through soft dark locks, urging her on. His phone beeped on the night stand.
“Aren’t you going to check it?” Janelle collapsed back onto the pillows.
“No. Are you?” Trent crawled up to lay beside her, tucking her soft body close.
“It’s your phone, not mine.” Janie was a champion snuggler. She slid one leg over his thighs and curled against him while running her palm over his erection, waiting.
Trent flopped over and picked up his phone. “Olivia. She wants to meet us at seven-thirty for breakfast.”
“I’m skipping the gym. How about you?” Naked, Janelle sauntered to the bathroom. A minute later the shower started. Thirty seconds after that, he was under the hot water with her.
Janelle was like a sea otter with her dark hair slicked back. Her eyes glimmered playfully beneath the spray, eyelashes stuck together in triangular points. The straight, narrow angle of her nose dripped with fine droplets as she rubbed Trent’s cock between her breasts.
“Janie.” He closed his eyes, lost in the wet warmth of her skin against his. Trent fisted his hand against the tile, scraping his knuckle on the grout. Water sluiced over his back, dripping over him as he sheltered Janie’s face from the spray.
Janelle didn’t let up, teasing his balls with her free hand. “Is this all right?”
“Fuck, yeah.” He let her keep going until he was close, then pulled her up and dragged her out of the shower. Without a towel, he laid her wet body across the bed, cool air prickling her skin with tiny bumps. Trent ran his palms up the inside of her thighs. Janelle grabbed his hair and squeezed as she moaned. A trickle of water ran down his temple.
“In a hurry?” he demanded, chuckling at her eagerness.
“I can’t g
et enough of you,” she panted. Trent licked her clean, sweet pussy until she came against his face. Only then did he let her take him in her mouth and suck. Her fingers dug into his ass as she pulled him deeper. She popped off as he finished, pumping him with her fist as his entire body shuddered.
They were startled by the pound of a fist from the hallway.
“It’s nearly eight!” Olivia yelled through the door.
Reality intruded, as harsh as a ray of sunlight. The room was a mess of scattered clothing and rumpled bedding. The smell of sex permeated everything. Trent cast Janelle’s naked, splayed body a regretful look and tugged on a random pair of boxers. He was possessed, driven by a need to consume her as often as he could for the short time they had together.
“I texted you three times, soldier.” Olivia’s expression was serious, but he caught a glimpse of amusement.
“I turned it off.”
She sniffed. “Mmhm. Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.”
“Wait!” Janelle, wearing her leggings and V-neck t-shirt, poked her head under his arm. “Breakfast?” Janelle peered up at him. “You never mentioned food. Go get dressed.”
“Atta girl.” Olivia beamed approvingly.
Trent dropped a kiss on the top of Janie’s dark head. Janelle held the door open. “Do you want to come in?”
Olivia wrinkled her nose. “No thanks. I’ll meet you in the breakfast lounge.”
They pulled themselves together quickly. Their friend was sitting with another woman, shorter and curvier with tawny skin and shoulder-length hair blown flat, when they made their way to the table carrying loaded plates.
“This is Stella, my conference roomie. She’s been appraised of your situation, Janelle. Hope that’s all right.”
“It’s fine, Olivia.” Janelle
“Have you tried asking for your wallet back?” Stella asked.
“First thing. He threatened me with a tape he made in secret. Said he’d send it to everyone in my contacts list if I didn’t go through with the…agreement” Janelle shoveled breakfast into her mouth. Trent caught her eye. Yeah, they’d worked up an appetite last night. Despite everything, she was more relaxed and happy than he’d seen her yet.
“That’s illegal. First, he’s in the wrong for taping you without written consent. Second, the instant he sends it to anyone, it’s a felony.” Stella sipped her tea as if she threatened people over breakfast routinely. Given her profession, she probably did.
“A felony?” Janelle’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “Really?”
“It was when I still worked for a law firm.” Stella laughed, a soft huff. “Intellectual property is my specialty area. This is 101-level stuff. Tech trademarking and patent infringement is my bailiwick now.”
“If you call his bluff, you might get your wallet back. Easier than getting your driver’s license replaced, if it works,” Olivia added.
“It didn’t protect me,” Trent pointed out to Stella, as if she was responsible for any of this mess.
“Did you agree to be recorded?” she asked evenly.
“Yes. On camera. I didn’t know she was planning to release it, though.” Trent rubbed his jaw.
“If you consented to the recording, you’d have had a hard time winning at court. A few years ago, the law hadn’t caught up with the technology. It still hasn’t. Plus, you were famous. You had less expectation of privacy than a regular citizen.” Stella folded her arms over her ample chest.
“Trent, may I borrow your phone?” Janelle held out her hand, palm up. She was already half out of her chair. His throat tightened. A desire to pull her back, take her away and keep her safe, surged out of nowhere.
You’re not twenty. She’s not Penny. She’s not yours. But for a minute, he wished she could be. “I’ll call him.”
Janelle’s stubborn chin tilted up. Her butt landed back in the chair, but her palm remained open.
“Give your girlfriend the phone, Mace.” Olivia crossed her arms, peeved on Janie’s behalf.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Trent replied automatically. Janelle dropped her hand flat on the table with a smack. Her face went pale beneath her tan.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
Janelle forced a smile. “It’s the truth. Anyway, twenty-four hours from now I’m headed home.”
Depressing thought. Going home meant leaving him behind, too. He shoved out of his chair, wishing it would screech across the floor instead of whispering over carpet with no effect. “I’ll make the call. Man-to-man.”
* * *
Janelle had always believed that finding the right man meant finding one who could protect her. From the indignities of casual harassment, to her financial problems, to the consequences of her foray into sugar babying, she’d been convinced that finding the right Prince Charming was all she needed to make her life right.
She’d been wrong.
I’ll never let myself be this helpless again.
She couldn’t have asked for a more perfect white knight than Trent. Yet Janelle’s skin crawled with the need to stop letting him help her. Stumbling out of her seat, she stopped him with a touch.
“Trent. You’ve done everything. Let me do this piece.” She skimmed one palm along his muscular arm to his shoulder. “You can’t fight my battles for me.”
“Watch me.” He left them, mulish determination turning his handsome face into a glower.
Olivia shook her head. “What has gotten into that man?”
“I think you mean, who’s gotten to that man.” Stella eyed her playfully. “You’re lucky, girl, but watch out for yourself. Mace has more baggage than an airline in July.”
“She knows, Stella. Come on.” Olivia and Stella departed, hips swinging, leaving her to work out her problems. Janelle sucked the hurt into her abdomen, then tried to breathe it out. It didn’t work. Her sister swore by controlled yoga breath, but it had never done a damn thing for Janelle.
Alyssa had charted her own path from the start. It had been such a shock a few months ago to learn that her creative, ambitious sister had made mistakes—mostly in the seemingly perfect fiancé she’d had so much trouble getting rid of. Janelle shuddered to think at how miserable Aly would’ve been if she’d taken Janelle’s advice and stayed with Zach.
This trip had been revealing in so many unexpected ways. How many people had told her she had a princess complex? A million? Stepping back and letting him fix this problem for her was exactly what she thought she wanted. Except, she’d never been able to lie to herself. It wasn’t what she wanted now. At all.
Quit being ridiculous. She preferred Trent’s help. She just didn’t want him doing everything for her, and she didn’t how to say it without sounding ungrateful.
In the moment it had taken her to sort through her conflicting emotions, Trent had finished his call and returned wearing a cocky grin. “You’ll get your wallet back, Janie. I’m pretty confident of that. Not much interesting happens at the conference this morning. While we’re waiting for Kyle’s next move. Is there anything you want to do? See the city?”
“Laundry. There’s machines down the hall.” No matter how many orgasms he’d given her, Janelle was sore this morning. They had to take a break. Besides, if there was ever a room that needed housekeeping, it was theirs. The sex hangover was starting to go stale. And some part of her needed to hold back a bit instead of gunning forward. The instinctive wariness cropping up now had tilted her entire world off its axis. Somewhere between taking off from Miami and sleeping with Trent last night, she’d changed in a way that was too fundamental and too new for Janelle to understand yet.
He laughed and kissed her cheek. “If you insist. I like you best naked, though.”
10
“You’ve been cuddling that thing for the past hour.”
“Jealous?”
“A little.”
The way Janelle tucked her beat-up wallet close against her chest was enough to provoke envy in any red-blooded man. The hot
el’s front desk rang the room, and Trent had scooped it out of the cradle as Janelle came in the door with a stack of clean clothes. Her wallet was at the front desk.
“You’ll get your turn,” she grinned, deliberately tracing the worn leather between her breasts. Trent hooked his arm around her shoulders as they fell into step. In khaki shorts and a t-shirt, she radiated a preppy wholesomeness. This was the closest he’d seen of the real Janelle Carlisle.
Who’s leaving tomorrow afternoon.
Reality kicked him in the gut.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she asked.
“The Pinball Hall of Fame,” he replied.
“Pinball!” Janelle squealed. They’d walked part of the distance, hopped on a bus and now they were sauntering along Tropicana Avenue the last few blocks. Janelle’s wallet was more like an undersized purse, complete with a wrist loop. “I love pinball!”
“Not as much as I do. I used to come here to come down from a coke high, before I was old enough to hang around in bars. I got a fake, eventually.” Pinball was one of the few fond memories he had of this town.
“Five dollars. I’m going to kick your ass, Trent.” Janelle cocked a hip as she plugged a ten-dollar bill into the change machine.
A sharp rock of pressure lodged under his ribcage. Janelle divided the quarters and handed him half. They chose adjacent machines and shot them into the slots.
“Highest score wins,” she declared.
“You’re on.” Metal balls pinged manically. Lights whirred. Trent was rusty; he lost the first ball quickly, but he made up for it with the second.
“I win!”
Janelle jumped twice and pumped her fist. Trent didn’t mind losing, considering what winning to her chest.
“Best two out of three,” he offered.
“You’re on.”
They stayed for an hour, at the end of which Janelle handed him five dollars. “You gave me a run for my money.”
“Nobody’s been competitive with me in years. Either I’ve lost my touch, or you’re good.”