Trent punched the doorbell, then leaned his hands on the frame, drumming his fingers on the wood. He hadn’t slept worth a damn last night. Or the last two nights before that. He was tired and keyed up and the ghosts of his past wouldn’t let him be. Carving hadn’t helped. So he’d given up any pretense of productivity and had come to talk to Will and Skylar. What he sorely needed this morning was a dose of Will’s sanity.
Despite being wealthy enough to buy an expansive home, Will and Sky owned a modest place overlooking Lake Washington. Three bedrooms, with a yard big enough for the dog they were always saying they’d get someday and a jungle gym for the kids they’d adopt. It was small and quaint and only a few miles from their parents’ place.
The dead bolt turned with a quiet clunk, and Trent straightened off the frame in time for the door to swing open. It was a little past nine a.m., but like Trent, Will and Skylar had already been up for hours. Will was dressed, shaved, and ready for the day. As usual.
Will took one look at him and grinned. “Somebody’s in the doghouse.”
Trent furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Okay, you got me. What the hell about me even remotely tells you that?”
Will’s grin only widened. “Because you look like something’s eating at you. You haven’t gotten that look since you’ve been home. You’ve been numb. And I’m just betting your problem is a woman. Mandy says you’re seeing somebody.”
Great. So everybody freaking knew.
“Who’s in the doghouse?” Skylar came around the corner, looking between him and Will. At the sight of him, a grin spread across her face. Every bit as put together as Will, she sauntered to the door and punched Trent in the shoulder. “Don’t give up there, tiger. She’ll come around.”
Trent glared at both of them, because he was pretty sure his face was red as a damn tomato. Will was about the only person he felt comfortable discussing his relationships with. Skylar, not so much. Oh, he knew Skylar would hear about it all anyway. He just didn’t want to have to be the one to tell her. “This isn’t exactly newsworthy stuff here.”
Skylar, never one to miss an opportunity to taunt him, waggled her brows. “Is it Lauren?”
Trent folded his arms. “You guys ’bout done? I came over to talk about the party, not my sex life. I have an idea where to hold it. I wanted to run it by you before I set it into motion.”
Still grinning like the cat that ate the canary, Will nodded toward the interior of the house. “Come on in. I’ll get you some coffee.”
“Thanks.” Trent followed as Will wound his way through the foyer, past the living room, and into the kitchen, then dropped onto a stool at the breakfast bar.
Will crossed the space and pulled two mugs from a cabinet. He darted a glance over his shoulder as he reached for the coffeepot. “What’s up?”
Trent folded his hands on the counter. “You want something low-key, just family and friends, right? What about Mom and Dad’s? Big barbeque in the backyard. You know Mom would be thrilled.”
Skylar came to stand beside him, resting her hands on the counter, and peered across the kitchen at Will. “I don’t know about you, but I like the idea. It’s intimate and personal, nothing flashy.”
Skylar and her sisters came from honest roots, raised by a single father who’d lost his wife when the girls were small. That was partly what had the inspired the idea of the barbeque. Her father had died three years ago of a heart attack, and she’d confessed once to still missing him. He thought it might be nice if she felt surrounded by family.
Two steaming cups of coffee in hand, Will gave one to Skylar and set the other in front of Trent. “Yup. I like it.” He rolled his eyes. “Mom will be over the moon. Don’t bother hiring someone to cater.”
Trent laughed and sipped at his coffee. “Because she won’t let me. She’ll insist on cooking. Yeah, I know. I’ll see if I can wrangle Lauren into helping.”
Skylar moved around the counter, pecked Will on the lips, and winked at Trent as she turned to leave the room. “I’ll just leave you boys to chat.”
When she finally disappeared around the doorway, Will laughed and moved back to the coffeepot, refilling his own mug. “You realize she’s going to want the details later, right?”
Staring down into the dark liquid in his cup, Trent furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Yeah, I know. As long as I don’t have to be the one to tell her. She gets far too much pleasure out of tormenting me.”
Coffee mug in hand, Will chuckled as he slid onto the stool beside him. “Because she likes you. She thinks you’re too serious.”
Trent let out a sardonic laugh. “I am. Enough for both of us.”
“Exactly.” Will sipped at his coffee, turning to peer at Trent over the rim of his mug. “So what’s really eating you? Thought things were going well with you and Lauren.”
Trent set his elbows on the counter and ducked his head into his hands. “They are. That’s exactly the problem. It’s supposed to be just sex, but I find myself doing things I shouldn’t.”
Like going to see her because he couldn’t resist the urge to simply be near her. When the shit in his head overwhelmed him, he craved her presence. He shouldn’t have gone to the bakery three days ago, but the night before that had been hell. He’d spent most of it walking his apartment and craving her. He’d thought maybe if they had dinner, like they used to do before he’d gotten involved with her, then maybe he wouldn’t feel so much like he was using her.
He dragged a hand through his hair. “It’s going to end. It has to. I’m just not ready for more yet. This is all I can handle. Shouldn’t I want more for her than this?”
Will nudged him with an elbow. “You need to stop thinking so damn much. If she’s not complaining, then enjoy her while you have her.”
Trent lifted his head and eyed his brother. “And if I hurt her?”
When he hurt her…
Will leveled him with a somber gaze. “She’s the only person you trust when that shit eats at you. You won’t even come here.” Will nudged him again. “If spending time with her gets you up and living, then run with it.”
* * *
He was still stewing over his brother’s words when his phone pinged several hours later. Seated on a bench at Chism Park, staring out over the calm waters of the lake, Trent released the heavy thoughts of AJ and fished his phone out of his pocket. A text from Lauren flashed across the screen.
Dinner at my place 2nite. I’ll cook this time. Ur turn to bring dessert.
God, just the sight of her words on the screen inspired the image of her and set his heart hammering his rib cage. No doubt those words would have been spoken with a teasing clip. Those big brown eyes would have glinted with mischief, and damned if he didn’t ache to kiss that smug smile off her face.
He punched in a quick reply. Deal. What’re u in the mood for?
U ;)
Trent groaned and reached down to adjust the hard-on springing to life in his jeans. He’d stroked himself to orgasm more than once over the last few days, giving in to the burning ache she’d inspired. The idea had been to take the edge off for their date, but she had only to toss something saucy at him and he was hard again. When she actually touched him later? Or looked at him through her lashes, in that innocent yet deliberate way she had? Christ. He’d be hard all damn night.
Nope. My turn 2night, remember? I have plans for you.
And he did. He’d spent far too much time pondering all the ways he wanted to give her pleasure. He wanted to hear her call his name again right before her orgasm took her. Wanted to make her come so hard she forgot to breathe.
Then he wanted to do it all again. And again. And again.
Not fair. :(
Trent let out a quiet laugh and shook his head. Will was right; she flirted with him and thoughts of the war flitted away. Dessert, doll. What’re u in the mood 4?
Surprise me.
Oh, he planned to.
Another message popped up before he could think of a response. U at home?
He darted a glance at the lake, watching the water lap at the shore. No. At the park. Went for a run.
Can you do that now?
He rolled his eyes. Of course she’d worry. Yeah. Doc gave me the ok, long as I don’t push 2 hard. Was slow and pathetic. Not even sure I worked up a sweat.
I take it u didn’t sleep well last nite?
How the hell she knew that, he hadn’t a clue, but it was what had drawn him to her in the first place. She just seemed to understand, and that she did soothed the wound inside. Like she could heal all his broken parts.
No.
Ironically, he’d discovered he slept better next to her. So far he’d spent two nights in her bed, and twice she’d calmed the panic. He didn’t dream any less, but more than once her scent insinuated itself into his nightmares, shifting the pain and confusion.
Not that he’d tell her that. Because he wasn’t supposed to be sleeping with her. Not spending the night with her was supposed to keep those boundaries set firm.
But she kept annihilating his boundaries because he was weak when it came to her. She made him yearn for things he had no right to want. Team members who’d relied on him had died because he’d failed. Hell, he’d failed his marriage. What right did he have to be happy? To just live his life like nothing had happened? And what if he failed Lauren, too?
Firmly shoving that particular line of thinking aside, he punched in another quick reply. What time u want me over?
6?
Sounds good. See u in a few hours.
* * *
He’d ended up deciding on chocolate-covered strawberries for dessert, because he could feed them to her. Much like the truffles she’d brought by his place that first night.
When he showed up at her place—at six on the nose—and stood on her porch, waiting for her to open the door, he was hard again. Riffling through his head were memories of the last time he’d come over: watching her slip her hand into her panties, those heavy-lidded brown eyes locked on his when she came.
He shoved a hand through his hair. If he made it through dinner without peeling her clothing off it would be a miracle.
When she opened the door, his heart flat-out stalled. Lauren, apparently, had dressed to kill. She wore those jeans that hugged her curves, but her top gained the full attention of every inch of his body. The deep V neckline went clear down between her breasts, the fabric knotted there to draw his attention. More than a little of her breasts mounded along the neckline. The long sleeves had slits that exposed her soft shoulders, making his mouth water with the overwhelming desire to bend his head and taste her creamy skin.
“Wow.” He swallowed in a vain attempt to wet his desert-dry throat and forced his gaze off her chest.
A beautiful soft pink suffused her cheeks, and she glanced down at herself. “I told Steph I had a date tonight. She loaned me this.”
He was over the threshold and wrapping himself around her before he’d even realized he’d moved. He set the box of strawberries onto a side table and braced a hand against her lower back. With the other, he followed the V of that neckline. “You realize this is more of you than I’ve ever seen.”
She shivered in his arms, a whisper-soft breath leaving her mouth. “I wanted something a bit more provocative for tonight. Something sexy I thought you’d like.”
He couldn’t stop the quiet groan that left him and tightened his hold on her, drawing her impossibly closer until he was taking every breath with her and he could feel the pounding of her heart against his chest. “Doll?”
Her long lashes fluttered as she lifted her gaze to his. “Yeah?”
“You could’ve shown up in those flannel pajamas of yours.” He shook his head and, unable to resist, brushed his mouth over hers. She leaned into him, her soft lips slanting over his, and what started as a simple greeting quickly became hot and heavy. She wound her arms around his neck and pushed her breasts into his chest. Her tongue snaked into his mouth, bold as brass, and he was lost. In her.
When they finally parted, both were breathless. He let out a quiet, torture-filled laugh and dropped his forehead to hers. “You realize we’re never making it through dinner, right?”
Another flush rose into her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I know we’re supposed to take this slow, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you all day.”
There it was, that soft, uncertain side of her, the innocent virgin who called to something primal within him, who made him ache to protect her at all costs.
Christ. He was in a sinking ship and going down fast.
“Me either.” He nipped at her bottom lip. “Ask me how many hard-ons I’ve had to try to ignore today. It’s why I went for a run this morning. A cold shower wasn’t cutting it.”
She shivered again and closed her eyes. Her chest rose and fell at an increased pace, her erratic breaths puffing against his lips. “I thought about you last night.”
He groaned. He didn’t have to ask to know she was telling him she’d touched herself. Made herself come while thinking of him.
He stepped further into the house and shut the door behind him. Then he leaned back against the foyer wall, pulling her with him. “Tell me.”
Leaning on his chest now, she opened her eyes and caught his gaze. Hers filled with a heat that burned him up from the inside out. “I was lying in bed, thinking about Tuesday night. Watching you stroke your…cock.”
That word from her sweet mouth had said member trying to escape its confinement. He was pretty sure it was leaking already. Never in all the years he’d known her had he ever heard her use that word or anything like it. Not even that day he’d caught her and Mandy discussing penis size. Hearing it now was like dousing a fire with gasoline. She may as well have lit his damn fuse.
He closed his eyes, unable to stop the shudder that moved through him. Nor could he stop himself from asking. “You’re killing me, babe. And?”
Her breath whispered over his mouth. “And I ached. Found myself lying there, staring at the ceiling, rubbing my nipples. God, remembering the look on your face when you came made me so wet.”
He groaned, the vision filling his mind. Her on her bed, thighs spread, fingers flying over her slippery flesh. It didn’t help that he knew exactly what she looked like when she stroked herself to orgasm. “So you eased the ache.”
She leaned in closer, so that when she spoke, her lips moved against his, her voice so low he had to focus to hear her. “You made me lose my breath, Trent. And you weren’t even there.”
“Shit.” He dropped his head back, banging it against the wall behind him. “I know I asked, but please, for the love of my sanity, no more. Or I’m going to come in my damn jeans.”
She let out a quiet, breathy laugh and pushed off his chest. “Come on. Let’s go see about dinner. I cooked. We should at least attempt to eat.”
* * *
Trent set the last glass into the dishwasher and closed the door. Beside him, Lauren had gotten out the strawberries and was currently whipping some fresh cream to go with them. Frustration wound through him as he leaned back against the counter to watch her.
Sitting through dinner was a cross somewhere between heaven and hell. He enjoyed the simplicity of sitting with her and sharing a meal. She was a fantastic cook. She’d made pasta and garlic bread. Simple, but delicious because he knew damn well she’d made it all from scratch.
The tension between them he could’ve cut up and served for dessert. Sitting in her dining room making small talk had been painful. Neither of them had been able to focus much on anything but the after-dinner fun. She’d take a bite and ask about something inane, like his current project at work, then peek up at him between her lashes or set that damn fork in her mouth and pause, waiting for a response he wasn’t capable of giving her. He couldn’t think about anything but waiting to watch the steel tines drag between her lips as she pulled that fork from her mouth. He was hard all through dinner. By the time she pulled the wire whisk from the frothy cream, he was ready to bust through his zipper.
Lauren turned, seeming to head for the sink, tongue flicking out to swipe a bit of cream off the end of the whisk. At the sight of him, she froze, pulling her tongue back into her mouth. Eyes wide and filling with heat, she stood and stared.
Trent groaned, pulled the utensil from her hand and set it in the sink. Then he hooked her around the waist and tugged her against him. He slid his hands to her ass, allowed himself a moment to relish the firm, supple muscle. “If I have to watch you eat one more thing, I’ll go insane.”
A soft pink flush stained her cheeks as she dropped her gaze to his chest. “I was trying to take things slow.”
“I appreciate that.” He lifted a hand, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “But you’re killing me.”
She let out a quiet laugh.
“I’m putting you in charge tonight.” Unable to help himself, he stroked his thumb along her bottom lip. “What do you want, Lauren?”
She slid her hands around his rib cage and up his back, pressing so close her breath whispered over his mouth. “You.”
He smiled. “How?”
“You said I got to touch last time and it was your turn tonight.” She studied him for a moment before drawing a shuddering breath. “That’s what I want. For you to touch me this time. To use your fingers.”
His mind filled with the memory of that first night in her apartment, when she’d told him what she thought about when she masturbated. A groan worked its way out.
“God, you make my cock ache when you talk like that. Come on.” He brushed a kiss across her mouth, then took her hand and led her into the bedroom.
Once there, he crawled up on the bed and pulled her down with him, rolling her beneath him. She slid her hands up his back, but stared at him for a moment, eyes searching his. Like she had something on her mind.
He traced the shell of her ear, tucking a thick lock of hair. “What?”
“I have one request.”
“Okay.” Not only was she indulging his need to go slow, but she seemed to enjoy it. He had to give her this one.
“Take your shirt off?”
His gut tightened. The moment of truth. And he wasn’t any less nervous about this.
Her soft fingers caressed his cheek. Like somehow she knew, understood what he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. “I just want to see you, to touch you.”
He sighed. “You know it’s not you, right?”
She studied him for a moment, then sat upright, forcing him to move off her. As he rolled onto his back, she shifted onto her knees. He didn’t miss the way her hands trembled. His own were doing something very similar. She looked him right in the eye, though, as she gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. One corner of her mouth lifted as she tossed it la-di-da style over the side of the bed.
“There.” She tugged on the end of his shirt. “Your turn. Unless you’d rather I take it off for you?”
That had merit, actually.
He pulled himself upright and shifted onto his knees, then held his arms out from his sides. “Be my guest.”
Heat flared in her eyes as she shuffled toward him. They were belly to belly now, the luscious aroma of her perfume floating around him, and her erratic breaths teased his lips. The first touch of her warm hands on his bare skin wrenched a groan out of him.
“You have the softest hands.” His eyes closed on a ragged exhalation. One touch and she had him on his knees, literally and figuratively. He couldn’t stop picturing those heavenly hands wrapped around his cock.
She stroked her palms upward, taking his shirt with them. Up his belly. Over his pecs. The quiet little hmmm she let out, like she took immense pleasure in doing only that, nearly undid him. “And you’re warm. God, this is so much better than the fantasy.”
He gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. Those words pulled all rational thought from his brain. God, how he ached to be inside her. To pin her beneath him and slide into her velvet heat. “You keep teasing me with stuff like that, doll, and I’m going to lose what little self-control I have.”
A soft, shuddering breath left her, and she dropped her forehead to his chest, a shiver running through her that set fire to his blood. “Touch me.”
He growled low in his throat and turned his head, raking his teeth over her earlobe. Then he leaned back and held her gaze. He started with her bra. It was sexy. Black lace. See-through cups that allowed him to see her nipples.
It was in the way. It hit the floor in seconds, and he couldn’t help himself. He cupped her in his hands, stroking his thumbs over her tightened nipples before he’d thought about what part of her he wanted to touch first.
The quiet moan she let out sent a wave of fire straight to his groin. He groaned and bent his head, sucking one puckered tip into his mouth. She moaned again, her fingers sliding along his scalp, encouraging him.
Blind with the need to feel her, all of her, against him, he shifted to lie on the bed, pulling her down with him. She laid along his length, her weight slight but welcome, and stared. Something moved between them, silent but aching, and the tension between them snapped. She braced her hands on his chest and pushed upright, straddling his hips like she knew exactly what to do.
For a moment all he could do was watch her. Beautiful. She was so fucking beautiful sitting over him like that. She had perky breasts, high and proud, nipples jutting up and outward. Her long dark hair was a curtain around her face as her trembling fingers moved to the button on his jeans.
He shackled her wrist, shaking his head as he rolled her over, then leaned down and claimed her mouth for a tender kiss. “My turn to touch, remember?”
Despite the erratic hammering of his heart, he forced himself to go slow. To enjoy the suppleness of her skin, that intoxicating scent clinging to her as he kissed and caressed his way down her body. He stopped to pay homage to each breast. Sucked on the tips. Kneaded them in his hands and lightly pinched her nipples. Once again she let out a quiet, agonized moan and slid her fingers along his scalp.
Then he kissed his way down her soft belly. When he reached her jeans, he peered up at her, asking the silent question. Was she sure?
She nodded, and his erection twitched in his jeans. If it were possible to be any more aroused…Jesus. He was shaking so much he fumbled over the button. Turned out she wore a matching pair of lace panties. They were pretty, but like the bra, they were in the way. They hit the floor along with her bra and jeans.
She was naked before him now, and he took a moment to drink her in. She was long and lean and so beautiful. He stroked his fingers over her hips, her thighs, enjoying the feel of her beneath his hands, that he could even touch her like this at all. The idea had been to use his hands to make her come, but her nakedness before him called to him like a siren’s song.
He finally gave in and sifted his fingers through the short curls at the apex of her thighs. Damned if he could help himself. “You don’t wax.”
“I’m sorry. Is it a turnoff?”
“No. Just the opposite.” It made his mouth water. It had been a long damn time since he’d been with a woman who took pride in her body exactly the way it was. Wendy had always insisted on a landing strip, as she called it. Hell, she’d even bedazzled the damn thing. Lauren’s neatly trimmed curls were arousing as hell.
Then and there he nixed the idea of touching. He didn’t want to touch. He wanted to taste. He wanted the flavor of her on his tongue.
When he shifted to lie on his belly between her thighs, Lauren reached down, attempting to pull him back up. “You don’t have to do that. You said touching.”
The unease in her voice had him jerking his head up. Lauren stared at the ceiling, her face flushed, body stiff as a two-by-four.
He stroked a hand over her belly. “Why does this make you uneasy?”
She shook her head. “Steph said most men don’t like to. You said touching tonight…”
He grunted in disgust. “That’s because Steph’s dating the wrong kinds of men. Some of us happen to enjoy it.” To prove his point, he leaned in and inhaled, drawing in her scent, then groaned. “God you smell good.”
She smelled like a woman. Clean. Musky.
He dipped his head again, this time stroking her sensitive folds with a long swipe of his tongue. Lauren let out a strangled gasp, her hips arching upward. That one tiny reaction fueled his need. Shaking now, he went in again, another long taste, pushing his tongue into her. She moaned softly, this one agonized. When he sucked her clit into his mouth, her body went limp, thighs dropping open as she finally relaxed into the bed.
Out the corner of his eye, he watched her fingers curl against the comforter again. “Oh God…”
That sound, soft and throaty and full of sweet agony, stoked the flame in his belly to a full-body burn, and he lost whatever control he had. He wanted her to come and hard. Over and over and over.
So he slid his hands beneath the firm globes of her ass and lifted her to his mouth. He reveled in the sweet taste of her. In the way her body responded to his ministrations. Lauren gasped and sighed, wonder in her breathy voice. Her belly and thighs began to shake and her hands clenched and unclenched around the comforter beneath her.
He knew she was close when her legs stiffened and she gripped his head, pulling him in tighter. She came with a gentle bucking of her hips, riding his mouth like she owned him.
Trent didn’t release her or let her up. He kept at her, licking and sucking, taking all she gave and demanding more. He couldn’t help himself. She was so fucking beautiful, back arched, body shaking like she’d lost all control of herself. To know he was the one who’d made her come undone like that? Jesus. He wanted to beat his damn chest. It was selfish to think, but the sight was addicting all the same.
When she finally collapsed back into the bed and closed her legs, he kissed her belly and shifted to lie down beside her. His erection throbbed painfully, and just the sensation of his shorts gliding against the engorged head, combined with her body heat against him, was almost too much. It had taken all his self-control not to come with her that last time. He had enough presence of mind to gather her to him, but all he could do for a moment was remember to drag in oxygen.
Lauren slid her hand up his chest, soft fingers sifting through the hair in the center, and purred like a contented cat. She tilted her head enough to meet his gaze, big brown eyes liquid and soft, and smiled. “Your turn.”