Page 48 of Whatever Will Be

“No.” I can feel the thick, hard shape of him now. I stroke him through the fabric. “This is a rural area. Plenty of woods to get lost in.”

“You serious?”

“Very.”

“It’s broad freaking daylight.”

“I didn’t think you’d be so puritanical, Trent.”

He roars out a laugh. “Puritanical. Because I’m hesitating to fuck you on the side of the road.”

“Yes.”

He’s still laughing when he veers to the right at the next exit. There’s a gas station and then there’s nothing else. Trent cuts a sharp turn when he spots a dirt road and keeps driving through thick brush until we’re a safe distance from civilization.

He opens his pants. Give me a calculating look. “You can change your mind.”

I pull my sweater over my head. Slowly, enjoying the watchful glint in his eye. “Are you going to change your mind?”

He reaches past me to punch open the glove compartment. He extracts an unopened box of condoms, rips off the packaging, fishes one out and gets it on with impressive speed.

“Well?” He palms his own huge cock, clearly thinking there’s a good chance I’ll back off.

I unhook my bra. “You shouldn’t test me.”

“I’m daring you, baby.”

“You shouldn’t do that either.” I flip the snap of my jeans, slide down the zipper and catch the waistband in my thumbs before rolling them down over my hips. My panties follow.

Trent appreciates the show. He flicks a switch and his seat gradually moves backwards. His pants are all the way down now and I straddle him, pressing his thighs between my knees.

“This needs to come off,” I complain, tugging at his shirt. “I want all of you.”

But there’s a change in his eyes and he looks away, which I don’t understand. It’s clear he works hard on his body and he’s unbelievably sexy. I remember Trent as a teenager and how he used to parade around without a shirt on every chance he got, obviously proud of what he had to offer.

I go slowly, undoing the buttons of his flannel shirt one at a time in case he objects. He doesn’t. He looks out the window, waiting for me to finish and roll the shirt from his strong shoulders. Underneath he’s wearing a plain white tee and I can’t get this off without his cooperation but when I lift the hem he raises his arms and pulls the shirt over his head.

“Oh!” I don’t have time to stifle my own cry and Trent sighs.

The scars aren’t excessive and from a distance they might be missed completely. I just wasn’t expecting them. The round marks on his torso look like small burns. The tattoo on the right side of his chest, the one I first glimpsed when he was being shoved into a police car eight years ago, has been angrily scored down the middle.

He’s watching my reaction. “There are more on my back.”

“Trent, how?”

“Tavington.” He spits out the word with revulsion.

I swallow the threat of tears as I remember the wild, arrogant boy of my childhood. We didn’t know, none of us, what was happening to him. We would have done something if we’d suspected. Jules would have found a way to help him.

A fresh hatred for Liam Cassini ignites in my heart.

I run my hands over Trent’s shoulders and kiss his cheeks. I kiss his mouth and then his forehead.

“You’re perfect,” I whisper and he is. He really is.

“No.” He moves in, covers my mouth with his and tastes my tongue, only briefly. “But you are.”

Trent pushes my knees wider apart, seizes my hips and lowers me one careful inch at a time as he conquers my body. I’m grateful he goes slowly because even though I’m completely ready to take him, he’s bigger than anything I’m used to.

---