Not wanting to dwell on the inevitability of their parting, she forced herself to operate as she always did when falling asleep. She turned her mind to work and deadlines. As far as Trevor was concerned, her story was nearly complete. She had already researched his background beyond what she knew personally. And between watching him in the office, spending an evening with him at a fundraiser, and then being given a first-hand view of his apartment, she possessed a broad glimpse into other facets of Trevor as a man. A few more specific questions would fill out the missing pieces.
As she went through things in her mind, she was acutely aware of his breathing and knew the minute he fell asleep, his hold on her loosening only slightly, his breaths coming deeper and more evenly. She relaxed into his rhythm, letting exhaustion claim her.
Her body was sated, her eyelids were already growing heavy, and her last thought before drifting off was of how easily she could get used to falling asleep in his arms.
*
Trevor couldn’t bring himself to move. An early riser with no need for an alarm clock, he had never put in blackout shades, preferring to wake up on his own or, on the occasions he slept in, to the warm sun on his face.
This morning, his internal clock woke him and he immediately became aware of two things: Lissa was in his bed, her warm, naked body draped over his; and it was Saturday and there wasn’t any place he had to be. Nothing to interrupt something he’d dreamed about since he was sixteen.
Waking up with this woman in his arms.
He was hard and he couldn’t attribute it to a typical morning. Not when one female thigh was slung over his and the scent he now associated with her filled every breath.
He nuzzled beneath her jaw and licked the skin along her neck. She moaned softly, coming awake
slowly, so he continued to nibble at her skin, taking his time as she became aware.
“Trev?” she asked in a sleepy voice.
He raised an eyebrow. “Expecting someone else?” he asked, laughing.
She didn’t lift her head or meet his gaze. “You feel good,” she murmured.
“So do you.” He closed his eyes, wondering how to make this last longer than the course of the interview.
He didn’t bring women home often and when he did, they didn’t sleep over. It didn’t matter whether or not he had to drive them home, he never wanted to wake up with someone he’d have to politely get rid of the next day.
When it came to Lissa, he never wanted to let her go.
Before he could continue with that train of thought, a noise sounded from the other room, muted but still clear enough to be heard. “Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mummy. Mummy. Mum. Mum ...”
“What the hell is that?” he asked as Lissa popped out of his arms.
“My cell,” she said. “It’s my daughter’s text message alert. It’s Stewie from Family Guy.”
Nude, she rose from the bed, distracting him from the obvious—the reminder of her daughter. But suddenly she glanced at the uncovered windows and then at him, her cheeks red.
Personally, he could look at her all day. “I have a T-shirt in the top drawer.” He gestured to a wooden chest and she shot him a grateful look.
A few seconds later, her gorgeous body was covered in an oversized white shirt that was sheer enough to allow him a thrill but made her more comfortable as she headed into the other room, returning with her small purse.
And that quickly, reality resurfaced. He was no longer in the solitary bubble he’d created for the two of them, and for the first time since laying eyes on her yesterday, the old wounds and sharp pain sliced him in the chest once more. But he was also able to remind himself that the pain was a decade old, and that was a first.
She pulled out her phone. “Olivia—I call her Livvy—is at her father’s for the weekend,” Lissa said as she hit some buttons, obviously looking at the text message. “Or not.” She let out a groan.
“What’s wrong?” Trevor asked.
“Her text says Have a cold. And At grandma’s. I need to call my mother.”
“How do you know she didn’t mean the Bankses?” Trevor must be growing up, because here he was, suddenly curious about her relationships and family dynamics.
“Because Livvy calls Lyla Grandmother Banks.” Lissa wrinkled her nose at the formal term.
Trevor agreed. “What a bunch of assholes,” he muttered, rising to his feet.
Before Lissa could react or reply, she gestured to the phone. “Hi, Mom. It’s me. Livvy’s with you?”