Ten Tiny Breaths (Ten Tiny Breaths #1)(46)
Dan nods curtly, a thinly concealed smile touching his lips. “Great. I’ll come up with something and have it to you first thing tomorrow.” Turning to Trent, he says, “I can cut out from my shift early. Can you make it until four?”
“I’ll be here.”
With that, Dan exits, stooping slightly to pass through the doorway. Tanner and his Batman pajamas follow closely, leaving Trent and I alone.
I peer up at Trent’s looming form to admire that gorgeous face. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in months,” I murmur, lifting to my tip toes to lay a gentle kiss on the uninjured side of his mouth.
His hand lifts to brush my cheek as he smiles down at me. “You’ve got to be tired. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll stay and watch over things.”
I fight to hide the disappointment from my face. Being near him feels so good, so right, so comforting. Adrenaline and attraction rush through my limbs. The last thing I am right now is tired. But I also don’t want to appear needy. I give him my best suspicious once-over. “And who’s going to watch over you to make sure you don’t steal anything?”
“Me? The guy who keeps buying strange girls front doors?”
“Strange girls!” I gasp, my hands flying to cross my chest in mock horror. “I take offense to that. Besides, how do I know you’re not some batshit crazy stiletto-wearing kleptomaniac who’ll steal Storm’s underwear and drink all the mustard?”
He rolls his eyes. “It was ketchup and that was only once. It did nothing for me, I swear it.” I giggle as Trent’s arms lift to settle on my shoulders. He looks down the length of my body before settling on my face. “I do have an appreciation for women’s underwear. Just, not on me.”
I struggle to swallow as my heart leaps into my throat, the blood pulsing against my ear drum as this electric pulse channels between us, rousing every nerve in my body. But then he breaks off, taking three large steps back and exhaling deeply. I smile to myself. At least I’ m not the only one who feels it.
“We should do something about this door. The police tape doesn’t exactly keep prying eyes out.”
Another wave of heat roils through me. What would prying eyes see? Trent rifles through the closets until he pulls out an old blanket. “I hope she doesn’t mind.”
I help Trent secure the blanket against the opening with an array of tape, tacks, and other adhesive things I find in the kitchen drawers. It’s after one o’clock in the morning when we finally finish and my adrenaline rush is crashing, leaving me exhausted. I flop down on the sectional. “I haven’t been off my feet for more than ten minutes tonight.” Trent takes a seat at the end of the couch. Gently lifting my feet, he slides first one heel off and then another.
“Oh.” I moan. “You can stay.” He grins, but says nothing as his skilled hands rub the bottom of my feet in smooth, circular motions. Around and around, slowly, deftly. I groan and lie my head back, enjoying his strength, his undivided attention. “Okay, you’ve earned at least one underwear strut. Go,” I fling my arm lazily toward Storm’s room. “Pick your weapon. Storm has quite the collection.”
Trent chuckles. “Depends on who’s strutting.”
I open one eye to find heat in his light blue eyes as they gaze at me. Again, I see this mercurial switch from the cautious, responsible Trent to the one who seems willing to have me on my back, and I don’t know what to think of it except that I know I want the latter version right now. His hand begins moving a little faster, a little more ardently, his breathing heavier. And then his hands are sliding to my calves and with a grip, pulling me toward him. As I slide, my dress slips higher up, revealing more leg. Luckily it stops at the height of my thighs, just as my butt reaches the side of his thigh. My bare legs are now stretched over his lap. One of his hands rests on the inside of my thigh, shooting lightning bolts through my entire body. The index finger on his other hand traces along my right outer thigh—up, up, further …
It stops on my tattoo, on the edge of my scar and strokes back and forth along the ridge. “Did you get the tat to cover this scar?”
“If I did that, my entire right side would be one big tattoo,” I lie.
“Why five ravens?” He asks as his fingers trail along the tails.
“Why not?” I pray he’ll leave it at that.
But he doesn’t. “What does it mean?”
When I don’t answer, he says, “Please talk to me, Kacey.”
“You said I didn’t have to.” My voice turns bitter. Trent has effectively tossed a bucket of ice water over my body, dousing the heat from a moment ago.
His hand leaves my leg to rub his forehead. “I know. I know I did say that. I’m sorry. I just want you to trust me, Kace.”
“It has nothing to do with trust.”
“What does it have to do with then?”
I stare up at the ceiling. “The past. Stuff I don’t want to talk about. Stuff you promised me we wouldn’t have to talk about.”
His hand finds its way back to my thigh, his eyes focused on it as he gently squeezes. “I know I said that, but I need to know you’re okay, Kacey.” There’s a twinge of something in his voice that I can’t quite identify. Worry? Fear? What is it?
“What, are you afraid you’ll wake up duct taped to your mattress?”