Page 38 of Healing Hearts
“I want this.” I lean my forehead against his. “I want you.”
“I’ve been turned on since the minute I walked in the house tonight, so I don’t know how long I’ll last,” he says as I guide myself down onto him. “And fuck if you don’t feel amazing.”
“This feels okay?” I watch his strained expression, fascinated that I’m capable of doing this to him.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says. “How long I’ve thought about this.” His hands span my back, drawing me tight to him so that each rise and fall brushes our bodies together, chest to chest.
The whole thing is more intimate than I ever expected given our deal, but he kisses me as though I’m all he’s ever wanted, as though doing this with me is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And it makes me wish that any of those things were really true, that the feelings I’m caught up in could actually exist between us.
Then his arm is along my spine, his hand on the back of my neck, keeping us tight, and his other hand is on my hip, urging me to go faster as he kisses me deeper. He breaks the kiss to breathe against my ear, his teeth grazing my earlobe.
“Fuck, Em. You feel so good. I can’t hold on much longer.”
Our cheeks are pressed together, and I murmur, “I want your baby, Trent.”
And he groans as I feel him pulse inside me, his hand holding me in place as he spills himself. His hands sink back into my hair, and he’s kissing me, slow and deep, so gentle that it breaks my heart a little.
“You okay?” he asks, his tone hushed.
“I’m good,” I say. “You?”
“As long as we survive this,” he says, “I’m great.”
We make eye contact, staring at each other for a long beat, and I want to reassure him, promise that this won’t get out of hand, but ifthisis where we’re starting, I really don’t know. I just don’t know if my feelings will get away from me.
Instead, I decide to take his statement in a different direction. “You’re not sure you can survive another twelve hours of having sex with me?” The internet was full of strategies on when and how often we should have sex, but we agreed to keep a narrowwindow to start. It’s easier with Amir, and it’s easier with our work schedules.
Plus, I like the idea of keeping things tightly focused. If I don’t get pregnant, we can try something else.
“I told Bruce I’d be late coming in tomorrow,” he says. “More like sixteen hours. This cock is all yours to use as you wish.”
“All mine, huh?” I say, tracing a line down his body with my finger.
“It’s all yours.” He runs his thumb along my cheek. “Every inch.”
“There are a lot of them.”
“You liked that, did you?”
“Did the job.”
“We hope.”
And the banter helps set my mind at ease a little. We’re still just Trent and Emily. Nothing has to change.
“We’re going to survive this,” I say. “I’m sure of it.”
Chapter Sixteen
Trent
Bruce has been working with me at the shop for three weeks, and I’m still not sure about any of his systems or ways of doing things. Rather than being fully digitized, he’s still been relying on filing cabinets, paper files, and handwritten notes and calendars.
Instead of insulting him, I’ve been trying to grapple with his system. He even does his scheduling—holidays for staff, payroll—all by hand.
I finally broke down and installed a desktop computer at the front desk. The last few years, Bruce did most of the office management while the other guys worked on cars. But I want to be in the shop, seeing how things run, not behind a desk, hoping for the best. I know I’ll need to hire someone, but I have to be sure the finances support that.
I have a laptop in my office, and I’m trying to get everything from the last three weeks loaded. With only one week left until Bruce actually retires and I take over, I need to get a handle on howIwant to do things so the shop doesn’t stall. I know clientele is already down.
