“I’m terrified,” I whisper. At first I don’t think he heard me. But then he turns to study the contours of my face, his brows drawn together, and I know that he did. “I … um … I … it’s been a while since I’ve done this,” I go on to say. I've never done this. Ever. Nothing close to this. “And this …” I hold up my hand within his. “Just this alone is kind of a big deal for me.”
He lifts my hand to press against his lips. Then he clears his throat. “Look, Kacey. What happened in your room that day…”
I feel my brow furrow, searching. My room?
“The snake in your shower?”
Oh, yeah. My heart jolts like a thousand watt current just zapped it with the reminder.
“I’m … uh,” he stretches his long legs out in front of him but holds me tight on his lap. “I’m trying hard not to let that happen again. For now.”
He must be able to read the disappointment that smashes into me because he quickly explains himself, his eyes wide and earnest. “It’s not that I don’t want it or you.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows. “Believe me, I’m sure you know exactly how much I do want that right now.”
I smile, wiggling in his lap.
He chuckles, my actions breaking his serious note. But it comes back quickly. “I have a hard time—a really hard time—controlling myself around you, Kacey. You’re unbelievably attractive and I’m a guy. It doesn’t take much for you to dissolve my will power. But I think we need to move slow. Take our time.” He gives me a meaningful look, like he understands more about me than I’ve told him. “I think that’s important, for both of us.”
I open my mouth to speak, but I’m not sure how to respond yet. He’s right. Slow is good. Slow is safe. But right now, with his fingertips back on my collar, feeling his excitement digging into me, I don’t want slow. I want a sudsy hot mess.
I allow myself a moment for a deep breath to try and regulate my spastic heart. “Who says I want anything with you? You assume a lot.”
“Maybe I do.” With a crooked smile, his hand slips up under the back of my shirt, moving painstakingly slow up along my spine, earning a slight gasp from me.
“Yeah, that’s slow alright,” I croak.
“Am I assuming too much right now?”
I shake my head lightly to let him know that he’s not assuming anything. I’ll happily take anything from Trent that I can get. Slow or fast.
His fingers fan out as they skate over my bare skin, sliding to my rib cage to graze the various scar ridges. His thumb strokes back and forth. “Couldn’t help but notice you have a few of these.”
I’m used to people questioning my scars. I’ve learned to shrug them off smoothly. “Oh yeah? When’d you see those?”
He gives me a wry smile.
“Pervert.” I try to push off my embarrassment, but I feel my cheeks flush anyway.
His face smooths away to seriousness. “Is that part of the past you don’t want to talk about?”
“Man-eating snake attack in a shower. It’s a reoccurring problem for me.”
He chuckles softly, but the mirth never reaches his eyes. Sliding his hand out from under my shirt, he pushes my sleeve up to expose the thin white line on my shoulder. Leaning in, his bottom lip grazes over it. “Sometimes it helps to talk, Kace.”
“Can we please just stick to the here and now?” I beg softly, confused by the conflicting reaction in my body, both rigid and liquefying under his attention. “I don’t want to spoil this.”
“Yeah, for now.” He lifts his head to look at me again, tucking a strand of my hair back behind my ear. “You don’t smile enough.”
“I smile tons. From eight p.m. until one a.m. from Tuesday until Sunday. Wouldn’t you know? It doubles my tips.”
His dimples are in full force now. “I want to make you smile. For real. Always. We’re going to go for dinners, and see movies, and walk on the beach. We’ll go hang-gliding, or bungee jumping, or whatever you want to do. Whatever makes you smile and laugh more.” His fingers toy with my bottom lip. “Let me make you smile.”
***
Trent doesn’t have his way with me that night. In fact, he handles me like I’m a porcelain doll that is two seconds from shattering. Instead, he talks. He talks and talks and talks. I listen, mostly. He talks about the Everglades, and about how a human can hold an alligator’s jaws closed with his bare hands and I ask him if he’s one of those Jeopardy freaks. He talks about how Tanner isn’t such a bad guy and our apartment building kind of has a Melrose Place feel to it, and I chuckle. I don’t remember hibachis and shriveled weeds in Melrose Place. He smiles when he mentions Mia’s name and how cute she is.
He talks and I listen to the low seductive hum of his voice and, although my hormones are planning a full assault to highjack my brain and take over all rational thought, I can’t help but get distracted by the shred of life flowing through my soul again.
***
I revel in the feel of my arms around Trent’s warm, strong body for the entire ride home, feeling no need to speak, wishing the night would last forever. When he walks me to my apartment door, I’m bowled over by the sudden tornado of emotion inside me—bliss and disappointment, excitement and fear, all converging, ready to knock me off my feet. I also sense a growing awkwardness in the air between us. Maybe because I’m silently wishing he’d invite me back to his apartment and disheartened that I know he won’t.
“So, thanks for showing me my first alligator and not having your way with me.” I busy myself with searching my purse for my keys. “I’m glad I still have all my limbs and—”
Trent’s soft lips cut my rambling short. His arms enclose around me, one hand skimming the small of my back while the other cups the back of my neck. He pulls me close against him, his mouth working slowly and controlled against mine, like he’s restraining himself from doing what he wants to do. That sense shoots jittery waves of heat through me. My arms lose all strength and drop to my sides, my purse and keys tumbling to the ground along with them.
Trent breaks free and crouches down in front of me to pick my things up. When he’s up again, he hands everything to me with a challenging smirk. “You going to survive?”
I hate that he can level me so completely and joke about it. Bastard. But I do love a challenge. I step forward and press my full body against his, chest to knees, hooking my hand around his back so I can jerk him forward against me, close enough that I can feel him in his jeans. He’s not unaffected. I look up into that perfect face and smile sweetly. “Nothing a long, hot, shower can’t fix.”
That did it. I feel him getting harder.
Trent smirks, no doubt fully aware of what I’m up to. What I would do to know what he’s thinking right now.
“Do you have a cell phone?” he asks abruptly.
I frown with the sudden change of conversation. “No, why?”
He breaks away from me and takes five giant steps back to get himself to his apartment door. He slides his key into his lock. “Because I don’t trust myself around you for more than a minute sometimes.” When he turns to size me up, it’s with a smoldering look. “Texting is good. It’s safer.”
“I’ll get right on it,” I purr, adding with mock innocence, “leaving so soon? You okay?”
“I will be,” he calls over his shoulder as he disappears into his apartment, leaving my mouth dry and my body on fire.
Stage Five ~ Dependence
Chapter Nine
I’m at the mall at nine a.m. on Tuesday morning to buy two cell phones. One for Livie and one for me. They’re nothing fancy but I can text easily and that’s all I care about after lying wide-eyed in bed all night, contemplating Trent.
At noon, as I’m heading out of my apartment door with my gym gear, I bump into him. With a grin, I decide that I really do love living next door to him. I really do.