Page 32 of Whatever Will Be

“Liar.”

I hiss out an annoyed breath and loosen my arms. “You don’t make me nervous,” I insist again. “And you’re hardly the first man who’s touched me so don’t go flattering yourself that I’m about to swoon after a thirty second make out session.”

He studies me. “Is that your clumsy way of saying you’re no virgin?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“Bummer.” He shrugs. “I mean, I only stopped by today in the hopes of busting your cherry before lunch.”

“Very funny. But there’s the Trent Cassini I remember. Crude as ever.”

“That’s bullshit. I was never crude to you.”

“You’re right. You never had much to do with me at all.”

He thinks that’s funny. “Well, it hadn’t occurred to me that you’ve been nursing a huge crush for all these years.”

I throw him a withering look. “Please. You know damn well I never had a crush on you. And you certainly didn’t show much interest in me.”

“That’s true. I didn’t find you very interesting.”

“Why did you kiss me the other night, Trent?”

His shoulders lift in a careless shrug. “You wanted to be kissed and so I kissed you.”

“That simple, huh?”

“Why not?”

“You’re still…”

He lifts an eyebrow, waits for me to search for the word.

“Impenetrable,” I finish.

Trent’s eyes flicker. “Are you penetrable, Gretch?”

There he goes, baiting me again. I tighten my jaw and refuse to get ruffled.

Trent chuckles anyway, which is tremendously annoying.

“You’re trying too hard to be a mystery,” I inform him.

He shakes his head. “I’m not trying at all.”

“All you do is make vulgar comments instead of saying something significant. It’s boring.”

“If there’s something particular you want to know then ask.”

“All right.” I cross the room and try to glare but the effect is diminished by the fact that I need to look up at him. “What are you thinking about right now?”

Trent doesn’t need to mull over the question. “I’m thinking that you’d probably lighten up in a hurry if you sat on my face and let me lick your pussy for a while.”

I’ve been catcalled plenty of times on the streets of New York. I’ve been propositioned using the filthiest language imaginable and always laughed it off. Hearing those words roll from Trent in such a matter-of-fact way is something else entirely. I can’t even draw a breath. I’m equal parts stunned and aroused.

The dining room table is necessary to my dignity right now. I lean against it for support.

Trent watches my response with what appears to be only a vague level of amusement.

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