Page 35 of Loving Trent
I freeze in the middle of the hallway, covered in shadows. Two bedrooms lead to the hall, mine and the one Harley and Maria are staying in, and a bathroom. All the doors are shut, meaning the hall is pitch dark, but he somehow knows it’s me. How? Looking up from the floor, I see him sitting on the couch, his arms on his legs and his hands hanging between them. The living room has two sets of double windows that allow the moonlight to filter in, casting shadows over half of him. He looks menacing but so fucking sexy that it steals my breath right out of my body.
I swallow and try to get my mouth to form words, but nothing comes out except a distraught sound. “Come here.” The demand is low and gravelly, skittering over my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It warps itself into pleasure that warms my body instantly.
That string pulls tight and compels me to put one foot in front of the other. I pause in the living room, about halfway to him. My whole body is shaking with anticipation of what he might have in mind or what’s about to happen. If I’m honest with myself, what I’m secretly wishing it could lead to. I look over my shoulder back toward the hallway, second-guessing myself. Perhaps I should just go back to my room and…
“Closer,” Trent all but growls at me, cutting off my train of thought.
With my heart beating frantically, my palms growing sweaty, and blood heading south, I continue my slow walk toward him. Finally, I’m standing in front of him and have no idea what to do next. My bare toes are pressed against his, and our knees are touching. Electricity dances around us, adding tension in the air until it becomes thick. Locking up my muscles is the only thing keeping me from reaching out to run my fingers through hisdark brown hair. His head is tipped back, and his eyes bore into my soul—or at least that is what his eyes on me feel like. His gaze feels like he is stripping away my many layers.
“What’s wrong?” Trent asks for a second time.
“I’m not sure. I couldn’t sleep and thought that…” I shut my eyes and try to get the right words to form, but a low growl has me opening my eyes quickly.
“Are you still feeling… unsafe?” Trent’s jaw is more pronounced as if he is grinding his teeth together. His eyes are narrowed, and there is some emotion in them, but the moon chooses this moment to slide behind a cloud, taking what little light we had away.
“Maybe,” I whisper, hating everything about how I’m feeling right now. Shame eats away at the pleasure that was building inside, and I want to reach out to pull it back.
“Can I touch you?” Trent’s question does the trick. Nodding slowly as if sudden movements would scare him, I hold my breath.
His fingers softly run over the back of my hands, lighting a fire in my lower stomach. Trent wraps them around my wrist, and I marvel at how big his hands are. How good they feel on my skin. He pulls me slightly, and the next thing I know, I’m straddling his thick thighs, and that fire is growing hotter. The sleep pants I’m in are stretched to the limit across my crotch, making the material mold to my half-hard dick. I almost whimper at the feel of him under me, but I clamp my mouth shut.
“What will make you feel better? Make you feel safe? What can I do?” Trent asks as his fingers dance across my arms. I swear I’m either drunk on the feel of him or there are, in fact, little sparks of electricity shooting off the places his fingers are touching.
My brain slowly turns into mush while my body is being consumed by fire. I can’t settle on what I want from him because there is so much that I want… no, need him to do.
To hold me.
To kiss me.
To keep touching me.
To replace their cruel touch with a gentle caress.
To savagely fuck me until my brain shuts off.
But I don’t think I can ask any of those things. So, instead, I whisper, “I’m not sure.”
The moonlight starts streaming through the window again, allowing me to see his dark eyes, which have grown darker. “Yes, you are, but you’re too scared to ask for what you want, and that isn’t going to work for me.” His arms wrap around me, and his hand lands on my lower back, pushing me forward. The friction of my thighs sliding along his stokes that fire inside me, and this time, I can’t stop the whimper from falling. Not when my hard dick rubs against the bulge trapped behind his zipper. But the one place of contact that does me in is when my chest is pressed against his. His heart is thumping hard just like my own.
“Fuck,” I groan and drop my head down, not noticing that the movement puts my forehead against his. His breath skates across my lips, and I lick them, hoping to taste him on me.
“So, tell me. What. Do. You. Want?”
“Could you hold me?” Without waiting for an answer, I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his neck. His smell assaults my senses, and I feel my shoulders drop an inch.
“Hold on tight,” Trent says a second before he slides his hands lower. He palms my ass, squeezing me tightly to him as he slides forward and stands up. I’m not a small person by any means. I’m six feet four and weigh two hundred and twenty pounds. Therefore, I’m left speechless at how easily he can hold me. Not just hold me, but carry me across the living room.
“Trent, you are going to hurt?—”
He squeezes my ass harshly. The pain doesn’t hurt, but it definitely turns me on. My dick twitches against his abs at the sensation. “I don’t spend my days at the gym bench pressing, curling, and deadlifting close to three hundred and fifteen pounds for the hell of it. Believe me, I’m more than capable of carrying you and anything else I want to do.”
As if my brain has shut off, my hands run down his back, and I start drooling over the feel of his muscles under his tight gray shirt. His muscles twitch under my palm, and I absolutely love it. One of his hands briefly disappears from my ass, but is back just as quickly.
Trent must kick the door shut behind him because within a second, he is placing me on the bed, and I see the door is closed. “Get under the covers and scoot over,” he says.
I lift my hips up and pull the cover down until I can slide my feet under. My eyes never leave Trent. Thanks to the curtains being pulled back, I have enough light to watch him. He reaches over his shoulders and pulls his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. My imagination tried to conjure up what he looked like under his clothes, but obviously, it failed. Because hot damn, he looks like he was sculpted by the same people who made the statues of the Greek Gods. He isn’t naked, which is a shame, but the tight tank top he has on leaves little to my imagination. I can see the outline of his pecs and the ridges of his abs. His thick arms are my undoing. I want to trace the veins in them with my tongue. The sound of his belt buckle being undone pulls my attention south. Watching him slide the belt out of his pants is straight-up fucking porn. There is no hiding my hard dick from him, but he never moves his eyes from my face.
“I normally sleep in my boxers. Is that okay?” His fingers are frozen on the button of his pants, and all I can think is how I want to push them away, only to replace them with mine.
