Chapter Twenty-One
VIVI
I can’t remember the last time I slept this little and felt this happy.
Maybe never.
The light in Trey’s bedroom is soft, angled across his sheets, and I’m sprawled right in the middle of them with the faintest soreness humming through every muscle.
My body feels wrung out in the best possible way.
We didn’t so much sleep as drift between touches and quiet words, half-dreams that dissolved into more kisses, more heat, more of him between my thighs and no condom.
I love the feeling of him bare. No barrier. Just him, me, and the friction.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach for it lazily, expecting a work email or a text from Isla.
Dad: I know you’re still ignoring me, but we need to speak before Jameson’s back. I’m in New York. I’ll be back in a few days. It’s important.
I stare at it for a beat, my stomach tightening, before locking the screen and sliding it face down.
Not today. I’ll deal with him later. Today is mine.
Ours. I still have two weeks with Trey, and I’m not letting my dad take up any mental space of how the Holiday marriage merger is the best business decision I will ever make.
The smell of coffee wafts into the bedroom from somewhere down the hall.
I roll out of bed, tugging on one of Trey’s shirts and a pair of leggings, and follow it to the kitchen.
He’s already there—barefoot, hair still a little damp from his shower after his early morning run.
How he had the energy to pound six miles of pavement after he pounded my pussy for most of last night, I have no idea. The man isn’t human.
I just stare back at him, appreciating the way his T-shirt stretched over his shoulders makes me want to crawl back into bed immediately and take him with me.
“Morning,” he says, sliding a mug toward me.
“Barely.” I sip and sigh. “This might be the only thing keeping me upright right now.”
His mouth tilts in that way that makes me want to kiss him before I’ve even had breakfast. “You seemed pretty upright last night.”
I give him a slanted glance. “You’re impossible.”
A text pings on my phone, and I glance over.
Isla: Dinner tonight with us, Penelope, and Slade? You two available?
I grin to myself at the thought of Trey and me getting invited on a ‘couple dates’ as if we’re already considered one unit.
“And yet, here you are. All mine for two weeks.” He smirks and takes a sip of his own coffee.
I try to scowl at him and fail. “Two weeks,” I echo, like saying it out loud makes it more real.
He nods. “For the next two weeks, you’re my girlfriend.”
My stomach does a dramatic swirl that almost gives me vertigo, but in the best way.
“I’m sorry, did you just say girlfriend?”
“I’ve never had one before, but I think that’s how this works,” he says. “We’re more than just fucking…aren’t we?”
I hide my stupid giddy grin behind my coffee mug, pretending to take a sip. “Yeah, I guess so, but if you’re my boyfriend for the next two weeks, what exactly are we going to do about Adeline?”
He thinks for a second, his eyes scanning the ceiling for an answer.
“I don’t want to keep things from her. I’m just not sure how you explain to a nine-year-old that we’re only together for two weeks?”
“I’m not sure either, but we have tonight to try and think of something.”
“Or,” he says, “we could spend tonight making sure you can’t walk straight tomorrow and let the talking happen later.”
The sip I’m taking nearly goes down the wrong pipe. “Later, meaning when she walks into your bedroom in the morning and sees me sleeping in it with you? That’s not a strategy.”
“There’s only one strategy I’m interested in tonight.” His gaze drags over me, lingering on the hem of his shirt stretched over my thighs. “Two weeks, Viv. My strategy is to milk every last damn hour out of that body.”
He watches me over his mug, eyes hooded, like he’s already mapping out the next twenty-four hours.
Which is unfair because I’m instantly imagining it too.
And that is how I end up texting Isla “yes” to dinner and then needing to go home to shower, do a face mask, and pretend I got more than forty-two minutes of sleep.
Besides, he has game tapes to review and hit the gym before dinner.
By late afternoon I’ve picked a dress that reads “respectable dinner” from the front and “he’s going to have his hands all over me later tonight” from the low plunge in the back.
Hair up, gloss on, and tiny gold hoops. I leave the love bites he left all over my body mostly covered because I’m not a masochist, and I’m already anticipating Isla pouncing on me the second I step into the house, but every brush of fabric is a memory and I’m smiling like an idiot when Trey pulls up.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited for a date before.
Even if it is just dinner at my sister’s with two other couples.
“I could have just met you at your house. You drove all the way into town just for me to end up at your house tonight anyway."
“Yeah, but I like picking you up. It feels more like a date. And this way I get to keep you until I take you home tomorrow morning. I like that you can’t leave.”
“Oh, so this is a kidnapping?” I tease.
“Absolutely.” He says it so straightforward without the faintest amusement that I laugh.
Then his eyes do that slow sweep that melts my knees.
One hand on the wheel, the other sliding to my thigh like muscle memory.
There’s a heat in his touch and a calm in it, too, the kind of steady that says I’ve got you.
He doesn’t say a word about the dress. He just drags his thumb once, skimming high enough to brush over my panties under my dress, making me a promise for later.
“You’re going to make it impossible to focus on dinner,” I tell him, my hips trying to follow his thumb.
“My needy girl can’t wait a few hours for me to fuck her again, can she?”
I shake my head, my tongue wetting my lips at the way he called me his girl.
“Then let me give you a preview of what’s waiting for you tonight.”
Trey slides my panties to the side, the warm rasp of his fingertips against my skin sending a ripple of anticipation through me. His hand is steady, confident, like he knows my body better than I do, and when he slips one finger into my slick heat, my knees go weak and hot heat pulls in my belly.
The hum of the tires on asphalt blends with the low rumble of his voice. “Relax for me.”
I melt back into the seat, the cool leather a sharp contrast to the heat pooling between my thighs.
He adds a second finger and then curves them just right, finding that spot that makes my breath catch, then adds a third, stretching me until my thighs tense and I whimper at the fullness.
Not as much as his cock stretches me, but it’s still so good that I know I won’t last much longer.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, dragging his thumb over my clit in slow, deliberate circles that make my hips lift for more. “You get wet so fast for me, Vivi Ann. You have no idea how hard I am right now. I barely touch you, and you're dripping at the thought of me fucking you.”
A car passes in the opposite lane, headlights flashing through the cab, and it hits me—we’re out here, in the open, and no one has a clue what’s happening. The thought sends a fresh wave of arousal through me.
He works me with a rhythm that’s unhurried but devastating, alternating between deep, curling thrusts and light, teasing strokes. My hand fists in his T-shirt, pulling at the fabric like it’ll anchor me.
“Trey—” My voice is barely a whisper.
“I’ve got you, baby. Let it happen.”
And I do. It starts low and tight, spreading until it crashes over me, my back arching as his fingers keep me there, milking every last shudder. The world blurs. The road, the headlights, the city beyond—all gone until I’m nothing but sensation.
I’m still trembling when he pulls his hand away, sliding my panties back into place with a slow, possessive touch.
I catch his smirk like he’s proud of how quickly he turned me into pudding, and then get up out of my seat and lean over him.
Wanting him to feel as taken and owned as much as he just made me.
“Your turn.”
His jaw flexes. “Vivi, I didn’t expect you to return the favor. You don’t have to.”
I want to mark him with my mouth, make him melt under my control. Two can play this game—and I bet I can make him come faster than he just made me.
“Eyes on the road, soldier. Let me take care of you.”
I make quick work of his fly, the heat from his body hitting me as I free him. He’s thick, hard, already flushed at the tip, and the taste of him, slightly salty, makes my mouth water. I take him in slow at first, letting my lips seal around him before sliding deeper.
He exhales hard, one hand gripping the wheel, the other reaching over and grabbing my ass that’s up in the air as I kneel on the passenger seat. The engine hums under us, the SUV thick with the sound of my mouth working him and his groans egging me on.
“Jesus…you’re gonna kill me,” he grits out.
Every few strokes, I glance up at him, catching the way his eyes narrow, his knuckles tightening on the wheel like he’s barely holding it together. His hips start to lift in small, controlled thrusts, pushing him deeper, and I suck down harder, giving him every inch of my mouth I can.
“Fuck, Vivi…don’t stop,” he grits out, voice rough.
I hum against him, and that’s it. His fingers tighten in my hair, his breath stutters, his hips jerking as he spills into my mouth with a low, wrecked groan that makes my core clench all over again. I swallow every drop, licking him clean before tucking him back into his jeans.
By the time we pull into Isla’s driveway, my lipstick’s gone, my cheeks are flushed, and Trey looks like he’d skip dinner entirely if I let him. He kills the engine, leans in close, and sticks his tongue in my mouth. Mashing our mouths together, both of us desperate for one more taste.