Page 88 of False Start

His look was boyish, expectant, and a tug of affection completely at odds with the fuck-buddy situation we’d just created rushed through me. “Yeah, you’re good.”

Riding that swell of affection, I wrapped my arm around his neck and pulled him toward me. I kissed him, a sweet mingle of heat and comfort as my fingers explored his body, skimming over taut muscle.

He grazed his thumb down my cheek, breaking the kiss. His green eyes went soft as he studied my face. The way his eyes lingered on my lips felt intimate. Not a one-night stand or a one-off mistake, but like sleeping me with meant something.

The thought made my stomach flip, and my confidence that sleeping with Trent was a good idea faltered.

“Are we doing this or what?” I asked, feigning callousness. Sleeping with Trent was supposed to be a diversion. A temporary bout of insanity. A one-time run at a guy way too hot and cocky and rich for me. I could walk away from a one-night stand, but not if feelings were involved.

His lips pulled up as a flicker passed over his eyes. “Whatever you want, Kitten.”

I broke eye contact, reaching across the bed for a condom and handing it to him. I averted my eyes as he ripped the package open and rolled the condom on.

My heart raced as he shifted his weight over me, dipping his head down to run a line of kisses up my shoulder and neck. I moaned, closing my eyes and luxuriating in the way my body thrummed with anticipation.

His calloused fingers dug into my outer thigh, pulling his body flush with mine, his cock sliding in as if meant to be there. I tensed my leg, holding him there, in me, with me. My body burned. The orgasm he’d nearly teased out of me with his mouth returned, urgent now.

I slipped my hand between us, rubbing myself as he thrust inside of me. Being with Trent always felt like too much, and sex didn’t feel any different. Achingly annoying, everything too fast and too slow and too different to make sense of.

He dropped his forehead to mine, his breath escaping in devastatingly hot pants of effort. Palming my knee, he pushed my leg toward my stomach, changing the angle of his thrusts and somehow getting deeper, harder, more intense.

The combination of his eyes on mine and his cock in me and my hand rubbing my clit sent me over the edge of orgasm. My body clenched, fingernails biting into Trent’s back as pleasure exploded through my body. Each thrust reignited my body, muscles contracting before going lax. Trent drove into me a final time, his body rigid, and then rolled over onto the bed beside me.

Trent pulled me back into his arms. His arms curled around my body, one hand at the base of my neck and rubbing tiny circles into my hair. I closed my eyes with a contented sigh. If only he had been someone else.

“That was pretty great.” His voice was throaty and low, the room icy cold, and the covers so warm. My attention slipped away, body drifting toward sleep.

I woke up cocooned in Trent’s arms. We’d shifted during the night, me off his chest and him wrapping around me. I ran my thumb over his forearm, testing whether he was awake and whether I could slip out. He answered the unspoken question by kissing my shoulder, his stubble tingling my skin. “You woke up.”

“That’s good news, right?” I asked, extraditing myself from his arms and turning to face him.

Oh yeah, sleeping with Trent was a disaster. No one had any business looking as handsome as he did first thing in the morning: heavy lidded, cheeks pink from sleep, and eyes a dreamy emerald green color. I squeezed my thighs together at the quick hit of lust that only got worse when he reached across the chasm I’d created, his thumb rubbing my waist.

I refused to develop feelings for Trent. I stuffed down any softness that had boiled to the surface over errant touches and soft kisses. We’d spent four days together in close quarters. Neither of us had been with anyone lately. And, truth be told, the sex was good. Too good.

“I can’t even blame last night on alcohol,” I said, keeping my tone even.

“Really ruins the ‘we shouldn’t have done that’ vibe, doesn’t it?” Trent pitched onto his elbow, resting his head against his fist.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” I agreed, my stomach sinking. “We shouldn’t do that again.”

Trent shrugged, his eyes dipping down as his fingers skittering across my stomach. “How about one more time? Then, never again.”

I groaned, collecting a sheet under my arms before I flailed away, tumbling off the bed. “It’s nearly six. We’ve got to get back on the road.”

“Last day.” His voice held a hint of sadness. A sadness that settled in my chest.

Pushing that feeling away, I wrapped the sheet around me, taking it with me as I shuffled toward the bathroom. I had no reason to be embarrassed, but I couldn’t help a flush of self-consciousness with Trent lying in bed in all his muscled glory. He pushed himself up and the top sheet pooled around his hips slipped down. I resisted the urge to pull it back up. “I’m going to shower.”

“Want me to join you?” The question stilled me on my escape to the bathroom. I turned back in time to catch Trent’s grin. “It’ll save time.”

I shook my head. “One night mistake, Texas. Never again.”

TWENTY-NINE

TRENT

For the millionthtime that morning, my focus shifted from the guidebook and onto Kit. She leaned against the door, palm on her cheek and eyes fixed on the road. Her face was still dewy from the shower and damp hair curled over her ears. My fingers itched to push it back.

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