by A. C. Arthur
“I’ve been just fine. And you?” Her voice was steady even if the rest of her wasn’t. And she didn’t yank her hand out of his no matter how much she wanted to.
As Camille had said, reporters and photographers were here. She couldn’t make a scene. The way Trent was looking at her said he’d figured that out before approaching her.
“I’ve been better.”
I’ll just bet you have. “That’s nice. Now if you will all excuse me, I think I’ll make my rounds now.”
“That’s a good idea,” Camille chimed in. “Isn’t it, Adam?”
Adam cleared his throat after Camille elbowed him in the ribs. “Ah, yeah. Good idea. How about I escort you out onto the terrace? I think Nigella from the Chronicle is out there soaking up the breeze.”
Tia gladly accepted Adam’s invitation but didn’t miss the heated glare that passed between the two brothers as she did so. Refusing to even look back at Trent she made a hasty, but classy, retreat.
“Whatever you’re thinking I want you to get it out of your mind right this minute,” Camille said to Trent when they were alone.
“Why does everybody insist on treating me like I’m the bad guy?”
“Um, because you’re military trained to take no prisoners.”
Trent had to smile at that one. “She’s a grown woman, Camille. You don’t have to protect her. Especially not from me.”
“I especially need to protect her from you.”
Two hours and about six glasses of champagne later Tia was draped over a lounge chair in one of the back rooms of Camille’s house. She’d made her rounds speaking to reporters and buyers making sure they all knew that she was wearing a CK Davis exclusive, taken pictures, smiled non-stop and modeled back and forth through the large living and dining rooms.
Her head pounded and her feet hurt. She was exhausted and she was afraid. About a half hour ago she’d stopped looking at the clock. She knew the time was ticking down. That’s why she’d searched out a place to be alone. If she were going to have a breakdown she didn’t need any of the press seeing it. Hell, she didn’t need any of the Donovans seeing it.
So for the past fifteen minutes she’d been sitting here in the dark, trying to get her brain out of its champagne-induced haze so she could drive herself back to her apartment. There she could fall flat on her face and let the grief claim her the way it begged to.
She was almost ready to get up when a stream of light invaded her sacred darkness. With an inhale of an intoxicatingly masculine cologne she knew her night had just taken another turn for the worse.
“Hiding out?” Trent asked as he closed the door and switched on a lamp.
Tia pressed her palms into her eyes, praying that when she moved them the pinpricks against her lids would cease. “I’m trying to be alone, if you don’t mind.”
“I’m looking for some company,” he said slowly. “If you don’t mind.”
Furious at his audacity Tia pulled her hands away from her face and gasped when she realized he was standing directly over her. “Yes. I mind. I’m sure you can find someone to keep you company out there. Lord knows there are plenty of women dying to catch your attention.”
“Jealous?” he asked in that cool yet firm voice of his.
“Hell, no! If they want to make fools of themselves for you, they are more than welcome.”
Even though she expected him to, Trent didn’t respond. He only watched her as if he were seeing something nobody else did. She turned away from him, only to have him grab her chin and turn her back to face him.
“Are you okay?”
“I will be if you’d leave.”
“You look sick.”
“I am. Sick and tired of being harassed by you.”
“You’re drunk,” he stated flatly.
“I am not.”
“I’ll take you home.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
And before she could say another word he was scooping her up off the chair. His strong arms cradled her against his chest.
Why did it have to feel so good? In the midst of all that was bad in her life, why did the touch of this man feel so damn good?
“I don’t need you,” she said in a small voice trying to hold her head up and not scream against the building pain.
He stopped walking at her words, peering down at her with an indescribable expression. Oh no, it was describable all right. It was a mixture of hunger and danger—a deadly mix, she knew, where Trent Donovan was concerned.
She opened her mouth to tell him to put her down, that she would get Adam or someone else to take her home. But the words died in her throat as his lips touched hers. Heat speared through her body at the contact.
This was no sweet just-get-to-know-you kiss. It was fierce, hot, demanding, stealing. Taking from her all that she’d had pent up for days, no months, or more like years.
She hated kissing. It was too intimate, touching parts of her she’d rather keep reserved. But again, this was no normal kiss. It was a fierce, blistering request—no, demand. Its lustful intent was clear and swept through her senses in deep, flowing waves.
For months, since the night she’d first met him, Tia had dreamed of this, imagining how good it would feel and knowing how easy it would be to fall for this man. And as difficult as it had been, she’d kept her resolve, had refused to call him, to accept the attraction that had sizzled between them since that first touch of hands on the runway.
Now she was powerless, not just because of the amount of champagne she’d ingested, but because as long as his hands were on her, his lips, his tongue, she had no choice but to acquiesce.
His tongue pressed past her teeth searching for hers and claiming it with an arrogant swipe. Hungry and what felt like enraged, he took her mouth, deepening the kiss until all Tia could taste or even think was Trent Donovan.
Chapter 4
Trent turned his black Hummer H3 Alpha onto Redwood Street heading toward the apartment complex Tia had told him she lived in. She was in the passenger seat that he’d reclined for her just before strapping her in. Her eyes were closed and every now and then she would moan, causing him concern over whether she was in pain or whether the champagne was taking its toll and she was about to vomit. The latter wasn’t going to be a good thing, especially not in his new truck.
Still he couldn’t help again admiring her beauty. It wasn’t such a shock to him since her profession was dependent on her looks. But there was something simple and untouched about her smooth skin, high cheekbones and long eyelashes. As she lay with her eyes closed, not speaking, not fighting with him, he was touched by a rarely-seen innocence.
Pulling into the complex Trent frowned. The Sahara West Apartments located just within the Vegas city limits was not a bad complex. Actually, it was a rather nice one, but Tia was making enough money that she clearly could have done better. He parked and went around to the passenger side, opening the door for her.
She hadn’t moved so he undid her seat belt and was bending over to lift her once more into his arms when she stirred.
“You don’t have to keep carrying me. I can walk,” she said slowly.
She was attempting to open her eyes, which didn’t look like an easy feat. Yet her speech wasn’t slurred. Trent was beginning to think that something else was bothering her, that this wasn’t just a result of too much champagne.
“I like the feel of you in my arms,” he said as he lifted her out of the truck. The words came out sincerely, intentionally. Trent was a man who knew what he wanted and didn’t hesitate going for it. His actions all had a purpose that he carefully worked out in his mind ahead of time.
So when she cuddled against him while he used his hip to close the door he knew the words had done what they were supposed to.
At the door of her apartment he put her down, slowly propping her against the wall. His hands lingered on her hips just to make sure she was steady. And she was, but still he didn’t move his hands. He liked touching h
er. She smelled good, too, like brown sugar and honey.
Her eyes opened easily as she looked up at him. Trent brushed his lips lightly over hers. She kept her eyes on him as if she wanted him to know that she was fully aware of what he was doing.
Struck by a swift slice of guilt at taking advantage of a woman when she wasn’t completely herself, Trent stepped away. “Where’s your key?”
Tia didn’t speak but reached into her small purse and retrieved the key. She tried to step around him to get to the door but he lifted the key from her hand slipping it into the door and pushing it open. Stepping to the side he let her enter first, then followed and closed the door behind them.
She switched on a lamp that shed only a small amount of light. The living room area was actually small but appeared spacious since she had only a couch, a glass coffee table and a big-screen television on the wall opposite the patio door. In a corner to the left was what Trent assumed was her dining room. There was a counter-height table and two chairs. To say that her furnishings were sparse was an understatement.
“Thank you for seeing me home,” she said in a quiet voice.
She’d crossed the room to sit on the couch. Trent hadn’t even known she’d moved she’d been so quiet and he’d been so absorbed in checking out her place. “No problem.”
In the dim light she looked frail and tired. He moved toward the couch intending to simply see that she was okay and say good-night. But once he was that close to her he couldn’t resist. He sat down next to her taking her hand in his. “Are you sure you’re all right, Tia?”
She nodded then looked away from him quickly. That was a definite sign that she was not okay. It was also a sign for Trent to get the hell out of there. He didn’t do pity parties and he definitely didn’t do emotional females. If she had something going on that was outside of being intoxicated or that didn’t require him to hunt down and possibly shoot someone, he couldn’t help.
“Is there someone you’d like me to call?” he asked already moving away from her.
“No,” she whispered. “There’s no one who can fix this.”
Yeah, that was his cue if he’d ever had one. “Okay. Well, I’ll leave you alone.”
He was about to stand up when she grabbed his wrist and said, “No. Please stay.”
In his lifetime Trent had heard more than his share of women saying those exact words. But none of them caused his chest to tighten the way Tia’s did. There was something in her eyes, an almost desperation that didn’t match her usual snippy attitude.
He sat back in the chair. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, knowing he didn’t want to hear about whatever it was that had her looking so shaky—especially if it was about another man.
Trent didn’t normally consider himself the jealous type. There were more than enough women in this world for all the men to have their share. So he definitely wasn’t one to hate another man for having a fine woman on his arm. But he’d be lying if he said the idea of Tia with some another guy didn’t rub him the wrong way.
“No. I don’t want to talk,” she said letting her hand rest on his thigh.
It was wrong, Tia knew. But in less than fifteen minutes it would be midnight. The exact time two years ago that Jake had been bleeding beside her, Jessica dying inside of her.
However, this year she wasn’t alone. Trent had brought her home. He’d walked her inside and he was still here. She didn’t have to be alone if she didn’t choose to be. She could be with Trent and this pain wouldn’t seem so bad. He wanted her; he’d made that no secret. So why couldn’t she have him? Just for this one night?
Taking another deep breath she inched her hand up his thigh, closer to his groin, and leaned into him. “Do you really want to leave me, Trent?”
He hesitated and for a moment she was afraid he was going to say yes. Instead his hand covered hers on his thigh. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Tia broke eye contact because the longer he stared at her the guiltier she felt. She leaned closer kissing his neck. “I’m not drunk if that’s what you think.”
His hand tightened on hers but he didn’t push her away. That was a good sign.
“You’re not drunk but you’re definitely not yourself.”
God, he smelled good, strong and virile, if that had a scent. She inhaled deeply, then let her tongue slide along the line of his neck. “I’m tired of being myself,” she said.
And that was the God’s honest truth. Tia was so tired of being about business, of getting up every day, moving along as if she hadn’t a care in the world, when inside she was falling apart.
Trent said she felt good in his arms; well, it had felt good to be in his arms. Damn good. And she wanted to hold on to that feeling, at least for tonight. As if he’d read her mind he shifted, wrapping his free arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
“What do you want, Tia?” he asked in a voice that she was sure had grown hoarse.
Tia stopped kissing his neck. Her heart hammered against her chest. With the hand that had accompanied hers on his knee Trent grabbed her chin, tilting her head until he could once again look into her eyes.
“Tell me what you want from me. Because I’m not going to do anything that you aren’t completely on board with. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
She did. He wanted her to be sure that she knew whom she was with and what she was doing with him.
Tia didn’t have a doubt in her mind.
She was with Trent Donovan. The man that had driven her crazy with lustful thoughts these past few months and scared her witless with his intensity. She wanted him to make love to her tonight, to wash away the painful memories and to satisfy her quaking need.
“I want you in my bed, tonight,” she said without further hesitation. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He stood then, picking her up so that her legs wrapped around his waist. His lips crashed down over hers, his tongue plundering hers with deep thrusts and smooth strokes. His hands cupped her bottom, gripping each mound with the promise of more to come. Tia instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck pressing her aching center into him, wanting more, needing it all.
She felt him move, turn in the opposite direction, but his hands were now pushing her dress up farther until he touched the bare flesh of her bottom, skimming the thin wisp of her thong. Her entire body shivered at the brief contact, she sighed and nipped his bottom lip.
“Which way?” he rasped.
Tia couldn’t speak but pointed toward the bedroom.
Trent’s mind roared with lustful thoughts of how he would take her, claim her, make her his for tonight. He’d thought of this often, each time changing their positions, their words. He wanted her with a desperation he’d never felt before and was more than excited at the notion that he was about to have her. Finally.
She’d unwrapped those sinfully long legs from around him the minute they were in her bedroom. Pushing the straps of her dress down she’d stood still as it fell to the floor. His mouth had literally gone dry at the sight of her in nothing but a black thong, garter belt, silk stockings and heels. The dark color only highlighted her light complexion. The sight of her stroked Trent’s skin like a whisper over his rigid sex.
“Come here,” he commanded and waited while she walked toward him.
Taking both her beautiful breasts in his hands he squeezed and closed his eyes. How many times had he imagined this? The weight of each globe, the texture of each extended nipple grazing his palms. He bent forward massaging each breast until the nipples puckered between his fingers, then licked them one after the other. She grabbed the back of his head, holding him in place and Trent’s senses blurred.
If there was one thing he loved, it was a woman who knew what pleased her. Obviously having her breasts licked pleased Tia. So he continued until she was practically begging him for more.
He moved away from her because control was another one of his pet peeves. She’d told him what sh
e wanted and he had every intention of giving it to her, but on his terms.
He’d removed his suit jacket in the truck so his fingers went instantly to the buttons of his shirt. When she reached out to help him, he pushed her hands away. “No.”
She’d tilted her head as if she were going to question him, then instead moved her hands over her stomach, up, until she was cupping each breast similarly to how he’d just done.
Trent was so hard at the sight of her touching herself that he had to clench his teeth to keep from yelling out. Methodically he undressed in front of her watching her fingers move over her pretty nipples.
Before tossing his pants Trent removed his wallet, retrieving two condoms. With protection in hand he reached for Tia and was momentarily startled when she moved away. Looking at her in question he watched as she went around to the other side of the bed, sat and attempted to take off her shoes.
“No,” he said quickly. “Leave them on.”
Trent was on the bed now, dropping the condoms near one pillow and grabbing Tia around the waist pulling her to the center of the mattress.
The look she gave him was defiant and sexy as hell. Was there anything about this woman that didn’t turn him on?
She laced her fingers around the back of his head, then pulled him down for a kiss that had his sex jutting forward, leaking with prepleasure.
He’d planned to go slow, to seduce her, to leave his mark. But as her tongue moved inside his mouth that plan was quickly tossed out. Trent reached for one of the condoms, pulled his mouth away from hers long enough to rip it open with his teeth then was about to sheath himself when she took it out of his hand.
“Let me,” she said in a voice so sultry Trent swore he was going to have his release at that very moment.
The voice had only been a preamble to the torture. When she grabbed his length between her hands he’d sucked in a breath. She’d looked up at him with those startling alert eyes and had the audacity to smile as she stretched the latex over him.