Ten Tiny Breaths (17 page)

***

I revel in the feel of my arms around Trent’s
warm, strong body for the entire ride home, feeling no need to
speak, wishing the night would last forever. When he walks me to my
apartment door, I’m bowled over by the sudden tornado of emotion
inside me—bliss and disappointment, excitement and fear, all
converging, ready to knock me off my feet. I also sense a growing
awkwardness in the air between us. Maybe because I’m silently
wishing he’d invite me back to his apartment and disheartened that
I know he won’t.

“So, thanks for showing me my first alligator
and not having your way with me.” I busy myself with searching my
purse for my keys. “I’m glad I still have all my limbs and—”

Trent’s soft lips cut my rambling short. His
arms enclose around me, one hand skimming the small of my back
while the other cups the back of my neck. He pulls me close against
him, his mouth working slowly and controlled against mine, like
he’s restraining himself from doing what he wants to do. That sense
shoots jittery waves of heat through me. My arms lose all strength
and drop to my sides, my purse and keys tumbling to the ground
along with them.

Trent breaks free and crouches down in front
of me to pick my things up. When he’s up again, he hands everything
to me with a challenging smirk. “You going to survive?”

I hate that he can level me so completely and
joke about it.
Bastard.
But I do love a challenge. I step
forward and press my full body against his, chest to knees, hooking
my hand around his back so I can jerk him forward against me, close
enough that I can feel him in his jeans. He’s not unaffected. I
look up into that perfect face and smile sweetly. “Nothing a long,
hot, shower can’t fix.”

That did it. I feel him getting harder.

Trent smirks, no doubt fully aware of what
I’m up to. What I would do to know what he’s thinking right
now.

“Do you have a cell phone?” he asks
abruptly.

I frown with the sudden change of
conversation. “No, why?”

He breaks away from me and takes five giant
steps back to get himself to his apartment door. He slides his key
into his lock. “Because I don’t trust myself around you for more
than a minute sometimes.” When he turns to size me up, it’s with a
smoldering look. “Texting is good. It’s safer.”

“I’ll get right on it,” I purr, adding with
mock innocence, “leaving so soon? You okay?”

“I will be,” he calls over his shoulder as he
disappears into his apartment, leaving my mouth dry and my body on
fire.

I’m at
the mall at nine a.m. on Tuesday morning to buy two cell phones.
One for Livie and one for me. They’re nothing fancy but I can text
easily and that’s all I care about after lying wide-eyed in bed all
night, contemplating Trent.

At noon, as I’m heading out of my apartment
door with my gym gear, I bump into him. With a grin, I decide that
I really do love living next door to him. I really do.

“How’d you sleep?” He asks, stepping just
inside my personal space. I note that I don’t mind a bit. In fact I
thrive on Trent Emerson being
in
my personal space.

“Like someone slipped Rohypnol into my
drink,” I lie, giving him my full-tooth smile. “I’m on my way to
the gym. You interested?”

Blue irises take in my black tank top
shamelessly. “I could burn some energy.”

My heart skips three beats. “Then go get your
things,” I say and bite my tongue before I offer him a better way
to burn energy.

With a smile, he leans in to kiss my cheek.
“Give me two minutes.”

I wait in the commons area, no doubt with a
stupid grin on my face, while Trent runs into his apartment. When
he comes out, he’s in track pants and a fitted white t-shirt. I may
not be able to see his tattoo, but I can see every ridge of his
sculpted chest and flat abdomen.
How the hell am I going to get
through my rounds with that to look at?

“I’ll drive?” he offers with a smile, as if
he can read my mind.

I can only muster a nod.

***

“You need a hand with the bag?” Trent
offers.

“This way, Jeeves.” I stroll over to a free
spot and toss my stuff to the wall behind it. I begin to stretch my
body, feeling each muscle expand and loosen. I always marvel at how
far I’ve come every time I’m about to work out. It took me so long
to even move my foot after the accident. At one point, my muscles
had deteriorated to nothing, and I was sure I’d never walk again.
At the time, I didn’t really care.

Trent mimics my stretches, his arms lifting
over his head, one arm bent and pulling against the other to
stretch his triceps. His shirt rises, exposing the contours of his
abdomen and the dark trail of hair running down below his
navel.

“Holy fuck,” I mutter under my breath,
turning around to finish my stretching in blissful ignorance of the
god behind me.

“Okay. Ready?” I hear Trent call out. He
swings his arms back and forth, clapping as they come in front of
him. “Let’s show ’em what we’ve got!”

“Do you have any idea how to hold a kick
bag?”

“Of course,” He leans against it, his arms
circling the entire circumference.

I don’t think Trent’s ever held a kick bag.
“I said ‘hold’ not ‘hump.’ You want your ribs cracked?”

His arms drop and he moves away from the bag,
gesturing at it. “Alright then, smart ass. Teach me.”

I grin as I tie my hair back into a ponytail,
aware of the small crowd behind us in my peripherals. Ben’s with
them and he’s got that smirk on his face. I still want to slap it
off his face, even though he’s turning out to be an alright
guy.

“Okay, what you need to do …” I step in front
of Trent and slip my hands into his. I start explaining how he
needs to distribute his weight and the best height to position his
hands, all the while I’m in awe of the fact that holding his hands
doesn’t bother me. In fact, I’d happily hold them through movies,
long walks on the beach, and anything else that involves hand
holding. And touching in general. I want to touch Trent for the
rest of my life. “Put this leg here …” My fingers slide to his
thigh to reposition his leg and I feel the corded muscle as he
shifts. Hot, strong legs. “… and turn your body this way.” Now my
hands are on his waist, gripping his sides as I turn him slightly.
I notice my breathing is speeding up.
Damn, how the hell am I
going to work out with him here
? “Most important is your
balance. Got it?”

He nods as I begrudgingly drop my hands and
step over to my side, getting ready for a kick. “Seriously? You’ve
never done this for your friends before?”

Trent shrugs. He manages to stay
straight-faced for another three seconds before a sly smile betrays
him. “Yeah, tons of times. But I liked letting you feel me up.”

A loud chorus of snickers and laughter
erupts. They all knew he was playing me. How did they all know and
I have no clue?
Probably because I’m too busy drooling over his
body to notice his practiced movements
. Suddenly feeling the
fool, I give the bag a soft kick. Okay, maybe not so soft. It flies
back under the impact and hits Trent, eliciting a low grunt as he
stumbles backward and hunches over, balancing himself with his
hands just above his knees.

“I thought you knew how to hold a bag?” I
murmur, walking over. I get no answer. With a bit of hesitation, I
rest my hand on his back as I bite my lip. “You okay?”

“Kace! You really have a thing against balls,
don’t you!” Ben hollers through cupped hands so the entire place
can hear.

I flush, shooting daggers at Ben as I
apologize to Trent. “Shit, I’m sorry. I figured I’d get your
shoulder.”

He cranes his neck to look up at me while
still hunched over. “If you’re not interested in me, just tell me.
You don’t have to ruin me for all women.”

“I’m more about action than words.” I’m glad
he’s making jokes, but I still wince. I drop to a crouch in front
of Trent and ask in a low voice, “Are you okay? Seriously?”

“Yeah, I’ll live. And by live, I mean curl up
in the fetal position on my couch with a bag of ice on my nuts for
the rest of the night.”

“I’ll hold the ice,” I offer in a soft
whisper.

When he turns his head, I see fire alight in
his eyes, and I can’t help but smile at his own frustration, which
must match mine. The smile is quickly followed by a wince. “Just
give me a minute. I’ll be over there, healing.”

Trent stays leaned against the wall,
protecting his injured body parts while watching me run through a
full set of kicks and punches, not fully into it. As I’m finishing,
I sense him approach behind me. I squeal in surprise as he grips
either side of my hips, pulling me back into him, into all of him.
“When you said hold the ice …”

“I thought you were near death over there,” I
answer, breathless. “
That
doesn’t feel fatal.”

“I was, but you are one hot chick when you
pound on the right bag.” He jerks me back against him hard and I
yelp. Not in pain. No, definitely not pain.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to take it slow?”
I remind him.

He chuckles darkly. “Yeah, and I also said I
have a hard time doing that when you’re around.” He leans forward
and whispers in my ear, “So what do you say? I’m ready to go a few
more rounds with you.”

Nothing but a strangled sound escapes my
lips. I don’t know where this side of Trent is coming from. It has
to be all the testosterone in the air. Or maybe this is the real
Trent and he’s been adept at restraining himself. Or it’s his way
of claiming his territory as the flock of guys watch me
intermittently, including Ben. Whatever it is, I’d willingly hand
over full possession of my body to this Trent to do with what he
will.

I swallow, trying to focus on the bag of sand
taunting me as all that bottled up fighting anger deflates and a
new emotion rises. Desire. Raw, uninhibited desire for Trent. I’m
two seconds from dragging him into the women’s locker room and
ripping that shirt off. Hell, I’m ready to take him right here, on
the pad, spectators be damned.

His hands slide from my hips, but not before
one hand squeezes my ass and then he strolls over to take his
position on the other side of the bag. His dark gaze leaves me
unnerved. “Okay. I’m ready for you this time.”

***

Trent hands my phone back to me with his
number programmed into it as we stand in front of my apartment
again, the sun’s afternoon rays beating down on us. Whatever heat
scorched the air back at the gym has evaporated with a mysterious
phone call on our way out of the gym. Fun, forceful Trent is gone.
This Trent looks agitated and distracted. I soon learn why.

“I’ve gotta head out tonight, Kace. Work and
mom stuff. I don’t have a choice. If I don’t show up, she’ll know
I’m not in New York.” His voice fades away and I catch his eyes
widen momentarily, as if surprised.
Why would that matter?
He rushes on. “I’ll be gone until Friday, but you’ll hear from me,
okay?”

I nod, hoping for another one of his blazing
kisses. That or for him to throw me over his shoulder caveman style
and carry me to his bed. Either one would work. But I get a peck on
my forehead instead. With a lazy salute and a frown, he spins on
his heels and takes off for his apartment.

Serve drinks.

Smile.

Take money.

I repeat that mantra all night at Penny’s.
The place is as packed and sordid as ever and yet it feels empty
and boring without Trent there.

It isn’t until I’m back home at three a.m.
that my phone vibrates in my pocket, sending a thrill through my
body. There’re only two people who could be calling and one of them
is unconscious next door.

Trent:
In New York. Surrounded by sky
scrapers. Miss you. How was your night?

My heart surges with joy as I type back.

Me:
Full of bare flesh and indecent
propositions
.

I can’t bring myself to add that last little
piece. That I miss him like crazy. That I can’t believe I’ve wasted
weeks keeping him away.

A full minute later.

Trent:
Was any of that bare flesh
yours?

Me:
Not yet.

I crawl into bed and rest my phone on my
chest, waiting for his response. It’s a while before I get one.

Trent:
A cold shower is calling. Sweet
dreams. Good night. xox

I cover my mouth as I laugh out loud, afraid
I’ll wake Livie or Mia up, who’s staying at our place with Livie
tonight. Setting my phone onto my nightstand, it’s a while before I
fall asleep.

***

Three days without Trent is unpredictably
tough. We exchange a few messages in the late evenings. Whatever
work and family stuff he’s doing during the day must keep him busy
because the texts don’t start coming until after midnight. When
they do, when I feel the vibration in my pocket, it’s like
Christmas has come.

They’re all fairly innocuous, “Hi, how are
you?” and “I miss you,” and “Bagged any guys at the gym, lately?”
messages. Several times, I catch myself typing something a little
more provocative only to delete it before hitting ‘send.’ Something
tells me it’s too soon for sexts, especially given we haven’t
gotten past first base.

God, I can’t wait until we get past first
base.

***

Trent comes back today.
That’s the
first thought that comes to my mind when I wake up on Friday. Not
carnage, not blood, not the miserable scraps left of my life. For
once, the first thought that comes to my mind is the future and
what it may bring.