Page 49 of Power Switch

What the fuck is wrong with me and my damn hands? Do they plot to embarrass me?

Grumbling my annoyance at myself, I shift through the crowd. Halfway through the crowded room, a hand wraps around my bicep, tugging me backward.

“Trailer,” Shawn says behind me. “We need to talk.”

Like Sarah trained me, I use my weight to yank the arm from his grasp. Surprise flairs behind his evil eyes before vanishing as quickly as it came.

“No we don't.” A few guests flick nervous glances between us. Remembering my role, I try for my best smile, knowing it's more of a grimace at this point. “If you'll excuse me, I need to go piss.” Fuck. A few women gasp, their French-tipped fingers lightly pressed to their painted lips. “Sorry. I need to find the toilet.” Oh hell.

Not wanting to say anything else that will lower their already devastatingly low opinions of me, I turn quickly and move toward the door Trey walked through what feels like hours ago. Before exiting the room, I rest the full glass of champagne on a side table. Nerves riding high, I swipe both hands down the front of my red dress and step into the hallway, inspecting to the left, then the right. Both directions are empty. The hope of seeing Trey deflates, leaving only the aching pain of my kidneys being pushed to the front of my body by the torture contraption strangling my waist.

“Turn right,” T says behind me.

After having him at my side for so long, sometimes I forget he’s even there. Not turning, I smile at the opposite wall. “Thanks, T.”

The stiletto heels make zero sound as I make my way down the dimly lit hall, anticipation rising with each step. The overhead chandeliers—because who doesn’t have chandeliers in their hallway?—give off a soft glow, casting shadows in every corner and disappearing altogether into the few empty ballrooms. I pass one darkened room only to pause at the sight of movement. I cast an apprehensive glance into the darkness.

Out of the shadows, Trey materializes. He extends a single hand, palm up. With zero doubts, I smile and take it. As he guides me deeper into the darkness, I mirror his smile. With a small tug, I’m against his chest and being lifted in his arms as he kicks the door shut behind us with the heel of his dress shoe.

“What are you—” The rest of the thought vanishes with the heat of his lips pressing against mine. I forget everything. All the worry, anger, frustration, and disappointment from the past three weeks vaporize with one simple kiss.

His hands skim up my bare back, down my arms, and back again. Mine do the same, enjoying the dips of his strong, lean muscles beneath his tux. I gasp into his mouth as the cold wall presses against my back.

“This has to be quick,” Trey mutters against my lips. Pulling back an inch, I can barely see his face, but somehow I know he's waiting for permission. That this isn't just him needing this reminder, this connection.

“Yes,” I groan as his hand cups my breast, pinching the hard nipple over the dress. “Fuck yes.”

Terrible idea, but hell yes.

My hair whips around my shoulders as I'm spun in place. The wall now presses against my warm cheek. Each panting breath pushes back against my face. A knock against my ankles urges me to widen my stance. Anticipation builds, dampening my center, readying me for whatever he has in mind.

The danger and possibility of getting caught hype up my desire. Warm fingers trail up the inside of both legs, bunching the satin material around my waist. Not wasting any time, he slides a hand forward, dipping underneath my already wet lace thong. My gasp turns into a pleasure-filled groan as he slides two fingers inside, slowly pumping in and out.

With less finesse, he rips my underwear down my thighs. The clink of his belt followed by the slow sigh of his zipper lowering has me pushing my hips back toward him, eager for him to take what he knows we both need.

The flesh of my hips molds beneath his tight grasp as he pushes in deep with one thrust. Our groans mirror one another’s. Palms against the wall, I push back, desperate for him to move, to give me what I've been denied the past three weeks.

The smacking of flesh and slick sounds of our bodies connecting echo in the darkness, only interrupted by cries stifled by his palm sealed to my lips. Pleasure tightens low in my belly. Chasing the building orgasm, I quicken my pace, thrusting hard back into him.

Heat engulfs my back. Wet lips press to the shell of my ear, sending a desire-induced shudder down my spine.

“You're mine, Mess,” Trey breathes into my ear. “We're not on hold. We're not over. This is just the beginning of us, and I will not lose you.”

I cry out, biting his palm to quiet the sound. Grunting into my ear, Trey slams into me over and over, drawing out my orgasm as he curses, finding his own release. Panting, his uneven breaths brush against my shoulder.

I smile into the dark. Stupidest, most glorious thing I've ever done.

If only we had time to do it again.

The sense of loss fills my belly as he pulls out. Something soft presses against my center as Trey gently wipes up the evidence of our sexcapade.

“Thanks,” I mutter, trying to find my normal voice. “Do I say thank you?” Just saying it out loud causes a giggle to bubble from my chest.

“I miss that sound,” Trey says, lips against my neck. “I miss you. I miss us.”

“Me too,” I admit. “But this was….”

“Fucking hot as hell.”

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