Page 49 of Healing Hearts
“I have,” he says, steepling his fingers. He shifts in his chair, and I’m not sure I like the way his posture changes. “Listen, Em, after what happened here, I’m not sure we should be doing this.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my stomach dropping into my toes.
He rises from his chair to lean against the wall, and he crosses his arms, as though protecting himself. “I’m not having any part of my past touch you.”
If he knew that it already had, he’d break this off for sure. Lorna and Robert haven’t been the only clients to express some discomfort with my relationship—whatever they perceive it to be—with Trent.
“So you know that the person who broke in here was Dan?” I ask, heart pounding.
“No,” he admits. “But it’s the logical conclusion.”
I cross the room and sit on the edge of his desk, and his eyes track the shift in my skirt, how it draws up my legs. He’s not immune, which makes me feel a little better about how dirty I’m about to play.
“But you don’t know that for sure,” I say, and I wiggle, my skirt creeping up more.
“No,” he admits, his voice rough.
“There could be any number of explanations,” I say. “Right?” I let my knees fall apart, and I lean back on the desk, my hair cascading behind me.
“Today’s the day before, isn’t it?” He’s holding still, but the air around us is crackling with tension.
“It is,” I say. And it’s obvious how much my antics are working. “But I wouldn’t want to pressure you into doing something you didn’t want to do. If you think there’s achanceDan was involved and that is enough to make you want to put a stop to this…”
“I don’t want you dragged down,” he says, his voice husky.
“No one is dragging me anywhere, Trent. My eyes are wide open.” I increase the distance between my knees because my eyes aren’t the only thing that’s open.
“Fuck,” Trent says, closing his eyes briefly before he eats up the distance between us. His lips are on mine, and he hauls me to my feet, hands in my hair. “How much I want you is so fucking irresponsible.”
“Just the way you like it,” I murmur, and he chuckles against my neck.
“This’ll be recorded.” His hands snake under my dress and up my thighs.
He’s kneading the skin, his palms rough, and I long for him to inch his fingers higher, palm my most sensitive area. It’s only been a month, but each day feels like one too many when he’s this close. The dark, rich vanilla scent of his cologne is mixed with motor oil. Every inch of my skin is desperate for his touch, hyperaware of the journey his calloused hands are taking.
“But I promise I’m the only one who sees it,” he says against my neck. “I can’t promise I won’t watch it again.”
“I trust you,” I say as I tug at his belt buckle. “I know you’d never hurt me.”
He stills my hand for a minute and stops his assault on my senses to make eye contact. “I’ll always protect you from anyone and anything, Em. I’d do anything to keep you safe. Anything to make you happy.”
“That’s really sweet, Trent,” I say. “Now shut up and fuck me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a laugh. “By the time we’re done with each other, youwillbe asking me to fuck you on the kitchen table. I guarantee it.”
“Yeah, but if you’re going to talk so much while you do it, I might change my mind.” I push down his jeans and they pool at his ankles.
“You only like it when I talk dirty, huh?”
“You got anything I haven’t already heard?” I ease my hand under the band of his boxer briefs to grip his length, and Trent lets out a hiss.
“I could talk about fucking you for days,” he says, tugging my dress over my head.
“I have to be back in thirty minutes. Less is more today.”
He flips me around, and I plant my hands on the desk. He runs the flat of his hand along my spine, and I shiver in anticipation.
“You’re so beautiful. Look at you,” he says, pointing to the screen on the wall. “I want you to watch while I take you, watch how I can make you come apart.”
