Ten Tiny Breaths (20 page)

“Can you?” I ask, twisting my mouth to fight
the stupid nervous grin ready to expose itself. Just those heated
blue eyes boring into my face is enough to unravel me. “What if I
lose?” I realize this might work to my advantage either way.

Somber eyes flash and I sense the shift in
the atmosphere. “If you lose, you agree to talk to someone about
the accident.”

Sexual blackmail
. That’s what Trent
has up his sleeve. He’s breaking his going slow rule in hopes of
making me talk. My teeth grind in response. No way in hell I’m
agreeing to this. “You’re a natural at ruining the mood,” I force
out, squirming beneath him.

But he grips me tightly. He leans forward,
his lips grazing mine as he begs, “Please, Kacey?”

I close my eyes, trying not to let that
gorgeous face glamour me.
Too late.
“Only if I lose,
right?”

“Right,” he whispers.

My competitive side answers for me before I
can think this through. “Fair enough.”
I.
Will. Not.
Lose.

I see the wide grin stretch across Trent’s
beautiful face and my body tenses up. “You’re going to play fair
right?”

“Yes. One hundred percent fair.” There’s a
teasing darkness in his stare, and I realize I’m in trouble. I
watch as he sits back on his haunches, towering over me on the bed,
those blue eyes leaving my face to drift over the length of my
body, in no obvious rush. “This isn’t fair yet,” he murmurs.
Leaning forward, two hands settle on the edges of my dress on my
shoulder. He pushes down.

I gasp as my dress—a stretchy tunic
style—slides off with a little bit of tugging on Trent’s part to
get it out from under me. Trent’s thumb runs along the scar on my
shoulder as his hands move down the length of my body, taking my
dress with him. I’m left in nothing but my strapless bra and a
thong. I hold my breath as Trent soaks up every square inch of my
body—every curve, every detail.

He leans forward, his hand sliding beneath my
back. “Still not quite fair.” I feel his fingers play with my bra
hook and I suck in a gasp.
He wouldn’t
. The supporting
tension in my bra gives way as Trent unhooks it. When his hand
moves away, it comes with all covering of my breasts. “There.
That’s fair.”

I. Will. Not. Lose.

I’m determined not to move, even as I lay all
but bared to Trent’s prying eyes and evil smirk. I’m mulish enough
to believe I can do it too. But then Trent leans forward, his mouth
only inches from my breasts as I had done to him, and I’m fighting
tooth and nail against the urge to squirm. I gasp as his breath
coasts over my skin and my nipples instantly harden. When he peers
up at my face, I have to close my eyes. I can’t handle the look in
his. It’s full of heat and desire and intentions. He chuckles
softly as his attention shifts further down. Cool air skates down
my abdomen. “You have an incredible body, Kacey.
Mind-boggling.”

I make an unintelligible sound of
acknowledgement.

“I mean, I could just stare at it. And touch
it. All day long.” I don’t know what it is about Trent right
now—his smooth voice, his actions, his proximity to my body— but
desire is tearing through my will power and congregating in my
lower abdomen, planning an insurgence.

And he hasn’t even touched me.

I peek through one eye to see the tops of
Trent’s shoulders, straining with muscle as he shifts further down,
stopping below my belly button. I struggle to see the clock.
Another three minutes. I can last three minutes. I can … I can
…
Trent’s index finger runs along the front of my panties just
as I had done to him and I let out a soft moan before I can stop
myself. Looking down, I see him watching me now, biting his bottom
lip, his arrogant smirk gone.

His eyes stay locked on mine as his index
finger curls under the elastic band and begins to slide down.

Like a violent wave crashing into me, I come
completely undone. Swirls of haze and light fill my vision and I’m
floating on seven layers of clouds, my muscles gone from rigid as a
pole to pliable putty, and I don't ever want to lose this high.

With deep ragged pants, I faintly notice
Trent hovering above me again a moment later. Hot lips touch my
collar bone as he grazes it.

“You lose,” he whispers in my ear with a soft
chuckle. Then he’s off the bed and pulling his jeans on. “Tanner’s
outside.”

“No I didn’t.” I mumble as an afterthought,
breathless. How the hell can he call
that
losing?

***

“You okay here alone?” Trent whispers as I
sip a glass of orange juice and watch the sweaty man work on the
door. When I raise an eyebrow, he chuckles. “Of course you are. I
forgot you kicked my ass.”

“A bag of sand kicked your ass, remember?
Where you off to?”

His hand touches the small of my back and he
presses me against his body as he whispers in my ear. “Cold
shower.” Shivers run down my spine and I’m ready to drag him back
into Storm’s room, but he makes a beeline out of the apartment
before I can get my claws into him.

“Who lost, again?” I call out in a
high-pitched voice, smiling.

I quietly watch Sweaty Door Guy work as I
read through a magazine, still glowing from the morning with Trent;
enough that this guy’s hairy ass crack peeking out from loose faded
blue jeans doesn’t faze me. Livie has staggered through, half
asleep and on her way to school. When I suggest she skip the day,
she looks at me like I suggested she marries the repair man. Livie
doesn’t miss school for anything.

I’m reading an article on
Ten Ways to Say
You’re Sorry without Saying the Word
when Storm’s soft voice
calls out, “Can I please get by?”

Sweaty Door Guy cranes his neck, sees Storm,
and fumbles with his hammer as he clears a path for her curvy
frame. She stalks through, matching my smile, two tall Starbucks in
her hands. “Do I need to change my sheets?” She winks.

“Ohmigod, Storm!” Fire burns my face as I see
Sweaty Door Guy eyes widen. Storm can be inappropriate sometimes
after all. I quickly change the topic. “How’s Mia?”

The reminder of last night dashes her humor
and I regret asking. “She’ll be fine. I just hope she doesn’t
remember any of it. She doesn’t need to remember her father like
that.”

“What’s going to happen to him?”

“Well, apparently he broke parole. That added
to the ‘break and enter’ should give him at least five years in
prison. That’s what Dan thinks, anyway. I hope he’ll clean himself
up by then.” She takes a long draw of her coffee and I notice her
hand shaking. She’s still rattled by it all. Rightfully so. If I
pull my head out of this distractive Trent sex cloud I’m stuck in,
last night is still deep under my skin.

“I swear, I wasn’t sure Nate wasn’t going to
throw the cops out of the way and rip his head off.” Storm adds and
I nod in agreement.

There’s a long pause. “So …
Dan,
huh?”

Storm blushes. “I was up early. I couldn’t
sleep so I brought him a coffee. Needed to thank him for
everything. He’s nice.”

“A coffee? That’s all?” My brow arches.

“Of course that’s all. What do you think I’m
going to do? Give the guy a blow job outside my apartment
door?”

A harsh coughing erupts behind us. Sweaty
Door Guy, covering up a gasp.

It’s Storm’s turn to flush, and I smile with
satisfaction. Clearly she forgot we had an audience. “Are you
saying you’re not interested?”

“No, I didn’t say that, but …” she toys with
the lid of her cup.

“But what?”

“Excuse me,” Dan’s voice interrupts us and we
both jump.

“Speak of the devil,” I murmur, covering my
smile with another sip of coffee. Storm’s face has turned purple. I
know what she’s thinking. She’s wondering how long he’s been
listening.

Dan steps over the remnant door frame. “Sorry
to bother you again.”

“No bother,” I chirp, grinning.

He nods appreciatively and I’m sure I see a
faint blush creep into his cheeks. “Just wanted to let you know
that I got that safety order to your landlord. The gates should be
fixed shortly.”

Storm’s eyes widen. “Already?”

He grins. “I know a guy who knows a guy, who
knows a guy.”

“Thank you so much, Officer Dan,” she says
and I’m hit with a weird visual of them in a sex scene with her
addressing him in the exact same way. I give my head a shake.
Too many hours at the club.

They stare at each other for an awkward
length of time, until Dan scratches the back of his head, his
cheeks flushing. “So, um, if there’s nothing else I can do for you,
I’m going to grab some sleep.”

“Oh, okay,” Storm nods.

I roll my eyes.
Utterly clueless
.
“Yes.” Devious little plot hands rub together inside my head. “Are
you free tonight?”

Dan looks from me to Storm. “Yes, I am.”

I catch the side “what the hell are you
doing” dagger glare from Storm, but I ignore it. “Good. Storm was
just saying that she’d love to go out to dinner with you.” Dan’s
face lights up. Going out with Storm is exactly the
something
else
Dan would like to do. “How about around seven?” I suggest.
“That works for you, right, Storm?”

Her pretty head bobs up and down dumbly,
looking like she may have swallowed her tongue.

Dan watches her with wariness. “Are you sure,
Storm?”

It takes her a minute to pull her tongue back
out to operational mode. “It’s perfect.” She even manages a tight
smile.

“Okay. See you then.” He walks out, his pace
picking up as I holler. “Can’t wait!”

I turn back to find Storm glaring at me. “You
enjoyed tormenting that poor man, didn’t you?”

“Oh, I think he’s okay with a little torment
if the end result is a date with you.”

“I have to work tonight though.”

“Nice try. Cain gave you the night off. Come
on, what else you got?”

Storm’s shoulders sag. “This is a bad idea,
Kacey.”

“Why?”

“Why? Well …” Storm sputters, struggling for
a valid excuse. “Look at the last guy I brought home.” She gestures
at the broken door.

“Storm, I don’t think you can compare Officer
Dan to that strung out asshat of an ex-husband. They’re kind of on
opposite ends of the spectrum. I’m not sure that guy last night was
even human.” My brow quirks. “Do they need to make a ‘So I Married
an Alien’ movie starring you?”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on, Kacey.
Don’t be naïve. He’s a guy. He knows what I do for a living.
There’s only one thing he’s interested in and it’s not my
cooking.”

I shrug. “I don’t know about that. I might do
you for more of that veal parmesan.”

Sweaty Door Guy breaks out into another
coughing fit, harsh enough that I think he may bring up a lung.
Storm’s hand flies to her mouth, trying not to laugh. She tosses a
pillow at my head, but I duck, sending us into an explosion of
titters as we scurry to her bedroom and close the door.

“So what are you gonna wear tonight?” I mock
in a bubbly Valley girl voice.

She sighs. “I don’t know, Kace. What if he
only wants me for … this?” her hands gesture to her body.

“Then he’s the biggest idiot on the face of
the earth because you’re so much more than a pair of giant boobs
and a pretty face.”

A tiny smile blossoms to dissolve her worry.
“I hope you’re right, Kacey.”

“You also have a killer ass.”

She tosses another pillow at my head.

“All kidding aside, Storm. I see how he looks
at you. Trust me, that’s not it.”

She worries her bottom lip as if she wants to
believe me, but can’t.

“And if that’s all he’s looking for then
we’ll set fire to his balls.”

“What?” Storm’s face twists in a mixture of
shock and amusement.

I shrug. “What can I say, Storm? I’m into
some weird shit.”

Storm’s head falls back as she howls with
laughter. “You’re crazy but I love you, Kacey Cleary.” She shrieks,
throwing her arms around my neck. I can only imagine what Sweaty
Door Man is thinking right about now.

***

Trent shows up to my door at noon in his
leather jacket. “Ready?”

“For what?” I ask, memories of the morning,
of what he’s capable of doing with barely a touch, still fresh.
Part of me wonders if he’s here to collect his side. That part is
extremely excited.

He smirks, holding up a helmet. “Nice try.”
Walking over, he grabs my hand and pulls me from my chair. “We made
a deal and you lost.” A sinking feeling settles in the pit of my
stomach as he leads me toward the door. “There’s a support group
nearby. I figured I’d take you.”

Support group
. That’s when my legs
freeze. Trent turns around and studies my expression. By the way my
insides are reacting, it can’t be a pretty one.

“You promised, Kacey,” he whispers softly,
stepping forward to cup my elbows. “You don’t have to talk. Just
listen. Please. It’ll be good for you, Kace.”

“So now you’re a computer geek and a shrink?”
I bite my tongue, not meaning to be that harsh. Gritting my teeth
against the urge to scream, I close my eyes.
One … Two … Three …
Four
… I don’t know why I keep following my mom’s stupid
advice. It never brings me relief. I guess it’s become more like a
security blanket that I’ve dragged from my old life into my new.
Useless, but comforting.

Trent waits patiently, his hand never leaving
my elbow.

“Fine.” I hiss, shaking away from him. I grab
my purse from the couch and stalk out the door. “But if they break
out in a fucking round of Kumbaya, I’m so gone.”

***

The group therapy session is in a church
basement, complete with ugly yellow walls and dark gray
school-grade carpet. The smell of burnt coffee permeates the air.
There’s a small table set up in the back with cups and tea
biscuits. I’m not interested in any of that. I’m not interested in
the group sitting in a circle in the center of the room,
participating in idle chatter, or the middle-aged skinny man with
faded blue jeans and feathered hair standing in the center.