He was walking back now, the board she’d used tucked under one arm. She saw other women pause in gathering up their things to give him a once-over glance, or even a twice over. One woman put a hand on her hip and struck a pose—obviously trying to get his attention. Two girls giggled and grinned at him. Trent kept walking toward her, focused on her, a warm glint in his eyes that had her shivering again.
Yeah, he was a man worth looking at—all that tanned muscle would make any woman sit up and take notice. The sun bleached strands in his hair were for real, but the rest of it—she wasn’t sure what he wanted from her.
But she was sure of one thing—he wanted something that he wasn’t telling her about. He flashed that bright smile of his—the one that was all focused energy and charm. She let out a breath.
Okay, there were two things she was sure of—if he wanted something from her, with that lethal charm of his, he was probably going to get it.
Chapter 8
Trent had been perfecting his movie-moves on girls since he’d turned twelve. Let the girl pick the flick—it’d be sappy, but romance in a dark theater got a girl thinking about sex. Scary movies were also good for that; but nothing was playing that fit that bill.
He bought one popcorn so that they could share, and one box of chocolates. He chose seats in the middle of a back row where no other movie goers were currently seated, giving them the illusion of being all alone. Once the movie started, he draped one arm over the back of her chair and tried to be interested in what was going on.
He fought with himself about playing her.
It wasn’t right—it wasn’t fair. He was damn sure by now that she was about as innocent as she seemed—a pawn in this game. But she was still his best bet for access into Guardians of the Earth without going all Mission: Impossible on their asses. He was trying to leave that as a back-up plan; but using Chloe didn’t seem like such a hot idea anymore.
If she’d been a bimbo, a giggling airhead who was only out for a good time, it would’ve been different. He could give her a good time and they could both come out of this happy to have known each other.
But Chloe was the trusting sort—and the type of girl you didn’t leave heartbroken. If she’d been in on whatever was going on with the Guardians…well, he wouldn’t think twice about using someone who’d turn around and use him if the roles were reversed. But she wasn’t like that, either. She was simply Chloe from Wyoming, a girl with problems of her own, and mixing with the wrong people.
He’d been toying with the idea of getting her a new job, getting her away from the Guardians. If he did that, he could spook them. They must already be nervous—they knew their pipeline plan hadn’t worked; they knew it was only a matter of time until someone started giving them serious attention.
Why else would they be conveniently ‘out of town’ right now? If he pulled Chloe, they might simply shut down operations for now until they felt safe again. Then this job would drag on even longer. That wasn’t acceptable. Just like Travis, he wanted this buttoned up.
Which meant he needed Chloe—he needed her to trust him and be on his side and willing to help him. He only knew one way to get that objective secured quickly.
As the movie reached the half-way point, Trent let his hand stray from the popcorn to Chloe’s thigh. She’d changed into a yellow summer dress with little red flowers scattered across it, and a hemline that fell just a few inches below the curve of her ass. His fingers touched bare skin. She didn’t shift or pull away. The main female character on the silver screen was hot, but not as hot as the living, breathing woman next to him. He trailed his fingers over her skin.
There was nothing to keep his fingers from walking up the inside of her thigh. He moved slowly, a mesmerizing brush that left him hard and her muscles softening. He reached the hem of her skirt and slipped back down. Her breath hitched.
He could smell her arousal and was having a hard time controlling his own breathing. Her fingers touched the back of his hand, and slipped over to squeeze his thigh.
Houston, we have lift-off.
He slipped his hand under the light fabric of her dress. He touched the lace of her panties, he heard her breath catch. He turned his head to take her lips in a soul-searing kiss, meant to steal any protest she’d been about to make.
He delved inside her mouth with his tongue, tasting buttery popcorn, chocolate, and Chloe. He held her shoulders with the arm he’d draped over the back of her seat; holding her in place so he could ravage her.
He scratched his fingertips across the surface of her panties and she gave a low moan. He broke off their kiss, but he left his hand where it was. Her panties were getting wet. Her hand moved up from his thigh to brush over his crotch. He had to bite back a moan. She pressed down on him. He slipped a finger around the lace and dipped into wetness. She spread her legs.
He had no idea what was going on on the screen. His stare locked on Chloe. Silver light flashed over her face, over her bare legs. He’d pushed up her dress, and she looked wanton with her legs spread and her lips parted. He found her clit and gave it a rub. She wiggled in her seat.
He grabbed her shoulders again and pulled her closer. He wanted to hear her come, wanted her to be aching for him. He kept rubbing, felt the wetness slick his fingers, and heard her breath catch into short gasps. Her skin seemed to be on fire and as she wiggled, the sea-scent of h
er pleasure washed over him. He kept his hand where it was, kept teasing her until the credits started and then he whispered into her ear, “Chloe, let’s get out of here.”
She nodded. He stood. She smoothed her dress. He took her hand and led her outside. In the parking lot, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back up against the brick of the building. He plastered his mouth against her own, pushing his body against hers, allowing the evidence of his desire for her to press against her stomach.
She pushed her hands through his hair, pulling him back slightly. “Trent, we can’t do this here.”
“No way am I getting busted for indecent exposure, and things are definitely about to get indecent. Mrs. W. said we better take it back to my place, so let’s go.”
He led her back to the Jeep. It took longer than he would have liked to get back to the bungalows, but traffic was traffic. Thankfully, Chloe hadn’t had second thoughts. She followed him into his place, turned as soon as he shut the door, and walked into his arms.
Her hands seemed to be everywhere—tugging his shirt from his waistband, brushing over his jean-clad erection, and threatening the little bit of self-control he had left. He grabbed her hands, pushing them up and holding them above her head even as he pressed her back against the wall of his place. She tried to pull her hands down, but he nipped at her collar bone and told her, “Slow down if you want this to last.”
“I want to touch you.” She leaned into him, pressing her breasts against him.