by JM Stewart
Fuck. He was going to lose his damn mind.
He bent his head, brushing his mouth over hers. Sipping. Tasting. Taking a privilege he damn well shouldn’t, but one he couldn’t resist either. Clearly he’d caught her by surprise, but she moaned low in her throat, and her mouth opened on a shuddering sigh. Her body melted beneath him, her hands sliding up his back to gather him closer. Yeah. He’d never in a million years get used to that. Or enough of it.
He allowed himself a taste. A moment to get lost in the suppleness of her lithe body beneath him. Her hot tongue swirling into his mouth and the quiet little whimpers and sighs emanating from the back of her throat. Then he forced himself to pull back, because he didn’t think he could stop at a kiss.
He nipped at her bottom lip, then forced himself to slide off her. He lay on his back beside her, tried desperately to ignore the throbbing in his jeans—which were now too damn tight—and folded his hands over his stomach. If he didn’t, he’d be rolling back.
Just his luck, Lauren snuggled up to his side and leaned her head against his shoulder. Every time he dragged in a breath, his lungs filled with the delicate mix of her fruity shampoo and the sweet musk of her perfume. “Thank you for being honest with me, but, Trent?”
He stared at her popcorn ceiling, watching the play of shadows. “Yeah?”
“I want you to use me.”
His knuckles popped with the effort it took not to reach for her. Clearly he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep. He’d be hard all fucking night.
Chapter Six
Lauren woke the next morning to a vise squeezing her skull and a mouth that felt like someone had stuffed it full of cotton. The house around her lay still and quiet. Eerily so. No soft breaths in her ear, no solid body warming her side. Beside her the sheets were cold as well. Despite her senses telling her otherwise, she pried her eyes open and turned her head. As expected, the space next to her was empty.
She sighed into the room, trying her damnedest to stem the disappointment rising in her chest. After spending the night in his arms and that phenomenal kiss, waking to an empty bed and cold sheets left a hollow ache in her chest. Should she have expected anything more, though? Okay, so he’d admitted he was attracted to her, too, but his heart was still under lock and key. He’d told her as much. He’d also told her he intended to keep her firmly in the friend zone.
So why the disappointment this morning?
Because they’d shared a moment. It might have only been a moment, but her heart had clung to it. Telling her that their kiss had meant something to him, too, was like dangling a cookie in front of a woman on a diet.
She threw back the covers and pulled herself upright, groaning as the headache became a dull throbbing in her skull. A glance at the clock told her it was five minutes after nine. She’d hadn’t slept this late in…years. She was usually up by three.
Never again. She was never drinking that much again. Another experience to check off her list, but something she wouldn’t be repeating.
As for Trent, she needed to go back to the agency and set herself up with another date. Stop her heart from hanging on this one impossible dream. The trouble was, she had no desire to. Her heart had gotten stuck on a single man. Him.
Firmly shoving her thoughts aside, she pried herself out of bed and stumbled toward the kitchen, eyes half open. Halfway up the hallway, noise coming from the kitchen stopped her cold. The sound the glass coffeepot makes as it settles into the base.
Her heart skipped several giddy beats. There could be only one person in her kitchen this morning. Barely daring to believe it, she resumed her trek, but it wasn’t until she came to a stop in the entrance that her mind finally accepted the fact. Trent. Not gone after all. He stood in front of the coffeemaker, wearing the same fitted jeans and long-sleeved shirt he’d had on last night. His hair stuck out at odd angles, but otherwise he looked the way he always did. Delicious.
She shook her head, unable to hide the awe the crept through her. “You’re still here.”
He peered over his shoulder and, at the sight of her, smiled. “Where else would I be?”
“You said you’d be there when I woke up.”
Regret filled in his eyes, creasing his forehead.
“Sorry. After last night, I thought you could use some coffee and something in your stomach. Figured I’d wake you when it was done.” He shrugged, adorably uncertain, then flashed a warm smile. “Breakfast should be ready in a few minutes.”
Amazed by the sight of him, she stepped farther into the room, glancing around as she moved. Trent had the top of the coffeemaker open and scooped in grounds from a bag of locally roasted coffee. On the stove sat a nonstick skillet, and on the counter beside it, bread was doing its thing in the toaster. “What is for breakfast?”
Trent closed the coffeemaker and hit the brew button before moving back to the stove. “Eggs and toast. I always found something simple easier to stomach after a night of binge drinking. You like your eggs scrambled, right?”
“Yes.” Color her impressed that he’d even remembered. Over the years, she’d stayed at his parents’ house a lot, but being so much older, he was always gone. They’d rarely had breakfast together, save the few times he’d come home on leave.
She moved to stand beside him, watching for a moment as he cracked eggs into a bowl. One-handed even. Damn impressive.
She looked over at him. “Your mom teach you how to cook?”
Trent let out a quiet laugh. “Mom insisted we not get stuck in stereotypical roles. She insisted we all learn to take care of ourselves. Which meant Will and I had to learn to cook and do laundry, and Dad taught Mandy to fix her own car.”
Drawn in by his warmth, Lauren couldn’t resist a smile. A memory filled her mind. “Mandy told me that once. Said she enjoyed spending the time with your dad and learning that stuff.”
He picked up a wire whisk and began to beat the eggs. “And I learned to like cooking.”
“There’s a certain soothing rhythm to it. Mom taught me. My adoptive mom, Mary, I mean. It’s where I learned to love baking. She made the best cookies, and she made them for everything. Every holiday, every church social. Now, whenever I make a batch, it reminds me of her.” She leaned sideways, bumping his shoulder. “Thanks for last night. For staying, I mean.”
Trent shot her a warm smile. “That’s what friends are for.”
Those words from his mouth had the same effect as a glass of ice water dumped straight over her head. Whatever good mood he’d managed to build, he’d just sucked it right back out of her.
Lauren rolled her eyes, somehow resisting the urge to sock him, and turned instead to lean back against the opposite counter. She folded her arms. “Please. Say that one more time.”
He darted a glance back at her, brow furrowed in confusion. “Say what?”
“Put me in my place. Next time I’m going to deck you. I really am. I get it, you know. I hear you loud and clear. Message received, sir.” Eyes narrowed, she mock saluted him, then refolded her arms.
Trent studied her, those intense blue eyes searching her face for so damn long, unease pecked away at her. Well, she refused to run and hide this time. After discovering what his erection felt like pressed against her, to be reminded of her place in his life—again—was infuriating and confusing.
Seconds later, he seemed to make whatever decision he’d been pondering, for he pivoted and crossed the kitchen, coming to a halt in front of her.
“I thought I explained this last night, but maybe I need to make it a bit more clear. Make no mistake about it.” He thumbed her bottom lip, a tender stroke with all the warm familiarity of a lover. “I want you. Getting out of bed this morning was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I knew if I didn’t, I’d have been seducing you out of those pajamas of yours. But I can’t offer you forever, doll.”
His thumb followed the line of her jaw, stroking her skin with such tenderness, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning into
his touch.
His pretty speech had also served to remind her why she had a crush on him in the first place. Deep down Trent was a good man. But she needed the answer to all the questions rolling around in her head. Good, bad, or ugly, she needed him to know where she stood. Clearly he had his own ideas, and he’d been brave enough to share them with her. She owed him the same in return.
She was going to have to get vulnerable with him again.
“For the record, I went on that date looking for a fling. I’m not sure Mr. Right exists, either. You want to know why I’m still a virgin at twenty-eight? Because I remember living with my birth mother. She went to work, kept the fridge full, but there never seemed to be any time for me. She was always getting ready for another date with another guy. Hell, she slept around so much she didn’t even know who my father was. My adoptive mother, Mary, was the exact opposite. She was Roman Catholic and very involved in the church. She raised me to believe sex was sacred and should be between a husband and wife only.”
Trent tucked his fingertips in his pockets. “Do you still believe that?”
Did she? “No. But it’s why I waited. I didn’t want to be anything like my birth mother.”
He frowned, his intense gaze full of sympathy. “Your parents don’t make you who you are, doll. You are who you choose to be.”
She shrugged, turned her head, and idly stared at the stove clock as the memories of her childhood floated to mind. Going to church with Mary, learning the ins and outs of the religion. “Maybe, but it’s what I feared for the longest time. I even made all these rules, for dating, for how I thought I should live my life. But they were just an excuse to keep people at a distance, to avoid getting hurt. It worked.”
Vulnerability rose over her like a suffocating shroud. Lauren dropped her hand from his back and folded her arms instead. She had no idea if any of this even made sense to him, but she needed him to hear it, to know and understand.
“I went on that date determined to set myself free from all those rules, but last night made me realize something. I can deny it all I want, but I am who I am. I don’t want a one-night stand with someone who won’t remember my name the next morning.
“But I still want what I want. I still ache to know the tender touch of a man’s hands. The intimate heat of his skin. I’m twenty-eight, Trent, and I have no idea what it’s like to make love to someone. Or to be intimate with someone, period. So you can relax. I’m not trying to trap you. I just wanted to lose my virginity to someone I trusted, and I can’t think of anyone who fits that bill better than you.”
She pushed away from the counter and left the kitchen. In the living room, she stopped behind the couch, setting her hands along the top, and stared out the window. Ironically, it was a bright, beautiful day. Not a gray cloud in sight.
“But I can’t just turn off my attraction to you because you want me to, either.”
The sound of Trent’s quiet footsteps moved up behind her, and she tensed, waiting. For what, she didn’t know, but seconds later his body heat filled her back. He didn’t, however, touch her. She couldn’t be sure if that was good or bad, but her stomach knotted all the same.
His fingers stroked along her shoulder. Slow. Sensual. Careful. After a moment, he let out a heavy sigh. “And I’m no longer sure I want you to.”
She let out a sardonic laugh. If she didn’t, she’d lean back into him. Everything south of the border had turned hot and molten, and every nerve ending he touched flamed. “That’s the most mixed-up thing I’ve ever heard, you know that?”
He looped his hands around her waist, setting his chin on his shoulder. “The last thing I want is to lose you.”
“I didn’t ask you to marry me. I believe I told you I just wanted to use your body for a while.” She turned her head as much as their position would allow, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Her insides wobbled, and nervous anxiety rolled through her stomach, but she had to take the chance or die a virgin. “If it’s not going to be you, it’s going to be somebody. If you don’t want this, I understand, but at some point I’m going to have to move on. When I woke up this morning and found you gone, I had plans to call Military Match again.”
His body stiffened against her back and his jaw tightened, nostrils flaring. “I can’t stand the thought of your first time being with someone else, some asshole like last night.”
“Then be my first.” Lauren drew a deep breath and pressed herself into his arms, sliding her hands up his back. “It’s not like I’m asking you to do me right here and now. It can happen at whatever pace you need it to.”
He cupped her chin in his palm, brow furrowed, gaze intense. “You’re okay with that?”
She lifted onto her toes, trying to close the space between them. “I’m okay with that. If it makes you feel better to put a label on this, consider us friends with benefits. When it stops being mutually satisfying, it ends.”
She’d just have to be sure to keep her head in the right place, so that her heart didn’t get broken in the end. This was a fling with a sexy guy, no more, no less.
He let out an agonized groan and brushed his mouth over hers, so lightly she shivered. “God, I can’t resist you anymore. I have a few requests.”
Her heart hammered in giddy anticipation. She hadn’t expected him to accept. That he had sent myriad thoughts flying through her mind, all of which settled low in her belly. “Okay.”
He pulled back. For a moment his gaze dropped as his fingers idly stroked her shoulder, like he couldn’t help but touch her. “You can’t tell Mandy.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Trent, she’s my best friend.”
“Yeah, but she’s my sister. The last thing I need is her privy to the intimate details of my prowess in the bedroom.” He brushed his nose against hers, amusement glinting in his eyes. “I recall overhearing a conversation about size once.”
Heat rushed into her face, but Lauren couldn’t contain her grin. She recalled that exact conversation. They hadn’t discussed him, exactly, but she remembered distinctly wondering.
“All right. On this I’ll concede, because you have a point.” She rubbed a circle over his chest. “What else?”
“I want to put a time limit on this. A month. When it’s over, we go back to being just friends.” His hands looped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Heat flared in his eyes. “I also think we should ease into this. So my last request is no sex.”
Lauren dropped her forehead to his shoulder with an exasperated sigh. “I’m never going to lose my virginity that way.”
He chuckled and hooked two fingers beneath her chin, tilting her gaze back to his. His eyes blazed at her. “At least not right away. I’m proposing we do everything else first. Because I was thinking…you want the full experience, right?”
She shrugged. He had her there. “I guess.”
“And that includes things like kissing. Touching.” He leaned down, his voice lowering to a husky rumble against her mouth. “Tasting.”
A hot little shudder moved through her as her mind filled with the possibilities: his rough hands closing around her breasts, fingers sliding into her panties, stroking her sex.
His warm mouth buried between her thighs.
“I like that idea. Doing it all. How ’bout, since you stayed last night, instead of lunch today, we start with dinner tomorrow night?” She pinned him with a direct stare and arched a brow, attempting to look fierce, but one corner of her mouth twitched, betraying her. “You still owe me a date.”
He rolled his eyes but grinned. “Tomorrow’s great.”
“Then it’s settled. You’re mine starting tomorrow.” She winked at him, then stepped back, took his hand, and headed for the kitchen. “Now, I believe you were making me breakfast.”
Chapter Seven
Still on for dinner tonight?
Trent stared down at his cell phone, seated on the counter beside the stove. He was halfway through making breakfast when his phone buzze
d in his pocket. The thought of seeing Lauren again had his heart sledgehammering his rib cage. Just reading her text made him so hard he ached.
He punched in a quick reply.
Yup. Can u b here by 6?
What they’d no doubt end up doing tonight filled his head, and if he didn’t cool his jets, he’d need a cold shower before she even got here. Either that or he’d pounce on her the minute she stepped through the damn door. His body burned, and the only thing capable of dousing this flame was her.
His phone beeped and her reply popped onto his screen.
I can. What’s for dinner?
That her reply arrived seconds after he’d sent his did nothing for the electricity fizzling along his nerve endings. It meant she was sitting somewhere doing the same thing he was—waiting on a text from him. Which filled his mind with visions of her. Was she in those pajamas he’d kill to peel off her? Or was she at work? He decided to ask.
Wait and see. ;) U at the shop?
Yes. Helping Elise fill all the custom orders. Anything I can bring tonight?
Nope. Just u. She was more than enough.
Great. C u later. I look forward 2 it, u know.
She had to go and say that. His cock twitched in his jeans, reminding him how long it had been since he’d last made love to a woman.
Me 2.
God help him when she got here.
* * *
By the time she actually arrived that night—five minutes early, no less—he was wound like a freaking top and so damn nervous he could barely stand himself. He’d spent the day reminding himself that he needed to take things slowly with her, for her sake, but one look at her as she stood on his doorstep had his brain scrambling. In a pair of jeans and a form-hugging, long-sleeved T-shirt, she looked good enough to eat, but those brown eyes filled with a heat and longing that burned him up from the inside out.