Whatever was happening.
Rising higher.
Coming closer.
Trent edged by, watching me as he reached into the shower and turned on the showerhead to let it heat before he slipped back by and ducked into the cabinet to pull out a fresh towel and washcloth.
He stole my breath as he went.
He set them on the counter. “There you go.”
The only thing I could do was nod.
“Let me grab you something to sleep in.”
I felt short on oxygen. “Okay.”
He moved back into his room, and I sucked as much air as I could into my lungs. I hoped it would give me clarity and strength.
The only thing it did was amplify the energy that crackled through the confined room when Trent dipped back into the bathroom with a tee and a pair of boxers. “Probably gonna be a little big on you.”
He gave me a smirk at that, those eyes raking over me as if he were picturing me in his clothes. Or maybe without them.
I trembled.
Stepped back.
Tried to hold onto what he’d told me last week.
We’d never work and taking more of what I couldn’t have was the most reckless thing I could do.
It didn’t mean those vacant places didn’t throb. That I didn’t ache. That I didn’t want to be touched.
Adored.
Wanted and cherished.
Trent seemed held in it, too. Entranced. Unable to move. That lure a rope that bound us in the space.
Finally, I found enough strength to snap us from the hazy fog, the steam from the shower heating our flesh and filling the room. “I should get in.”
Trent’s eyes were the hardest, softest things I’d ever seen. The contrast of the man the very thing that was going to be my ruin. Because I wanted both sides.
The brash and the bold. The loyal and the sweet.
“Okay.”
He spun and went for the door.
“Thank you,” I rushed before he was able to step all the way out. Apparently, I wanted to cling to the connection for one second longer.
Trent twisted around to look at me. That man who’d done me in from day one coming out to play, a wry smile on his sexy face. “Don’t thank me just yet, Kitten.”
Then he stepped the rest of the way out and snapped the door shut behind him. The click tossed me out of the stupor.
I jolted with the impact.
My body bowing that way like it didn’t know what else to do but follow after the man.
Foolish.
I gulped it down, tried to find my footing, to seek out a little common sense in the midst of this insanity.
But I didn’t know how to find it. Not when I angled into the spray, so hot it was close to scalding, as hot as Trent’s touch.
And I was assaulted with it.
Image after image from last week when he’d followed me into my bedroom.
From the days leading up to the moment when I’d let another man touch me for the first time since I’d lost Aaron.
More from the afternoon in my dance studio.
The days without his touch.
Fear traveled my spine when I thought of what I’d walked out on tonight.
The truth that Trent Lawson’s world was so far removed from mine.
But I knew, right then, I didn’t care. I’d step into his if he would let me.
I gasped at the realization, my body lathered in suds that smelled so much like the man, the nutmeg that’d always overwhelmed me. I held it to my nose, let it infiltrate, let it consume.
I rinsed, turned off the showerhead, and grabbed the towel that he’d left folded on the counter.
I wrapped it around my overheated body.
Every nerve ending was alert.
As if one touch would burn me alive.
Steam fogged over the room, and I did my best to dry, though my flesh remained sticky and hot. I dressed quickly, his clothes engulfing me.
I rubbed the towel through my hair, anxiety lighting me up when I moved to the door and slowly opened it to the darkness waiting on the other side.
Because Trent was right there.
Two feet away.
His chest heaving with greed.
A storm gathering strength.
Every promise I’d ever made myself ceased to exist.
“Eden.” He said it like I might be his saving grace. Electricity crackled, ferocity in the bob of his thick throat. “What if I wanted it, Eden? What if I wanted it to work? What if I wanted it all? What if I don’t want to let you go?”
And I knew right then I was in too deep.
No longer walking on solid ground.
Because the towel slipped from my hands.
“Then hold onto me, Trent. Hold onto me, and don’t let me go.”
One second later, Trent prowled my way.
Falling.
Falling fast.
His mouth crushing against mine with zero hope of recovery.
Twenty-One
Trent
Greed crashed through my senses as I stalked through the bathroom door and drove my fingers into Eden’s wet hair. In an instant, my mouth descended, capturing the sweet plushness of hers.