16. Natasha
16
NATASHA
“ D on’t get up yet,” Trent whispered against the back of my neck, his breath warm and his voice thick with sleep. His arms snaked around me, holding me flush against his broad chest. His body radiated warmth, and I leaned into it, basking in the feeling of being cuddled. “I just want to hold you for a minute.”
It had been too long since I’d been held like this. So long, in fact, that it made my chest ache just thinking about it. All my memories of Fisher had been tainted ever since I’d realized the kind of person he really was, so I didn’t even bother trying to remember him like this. I dated some since that breakup, but with all the jobs I’d been juggling, I hadn’t had time for much more than a couple of flings. It was easy to forget how nice it was to be wanted by another person.
“What time is it?” I asked. My phone had disappeared somewhere—in the living room probably—but sunlight peeked in through Trent’s dark curtains, so I knew it must be morning.
“Don’t worry about that just now,” he said, snuggling against me.
I sighed contentedly. I did my best to fill my life with work and Stacy and furniture, but no matter how much I crammed into my day, nothing came close to replicating this kind of intimate connection with another person. I was still cautious about getting close to people, about giving them the ability to let me down, to hurt me, but I’d forgotten how badly I needed this connection until I’d spent the night in Trent’s arms—his deliciously toned arms.
“This is a really long minute,” I teased, kissing the forearm that dangled over my shoulder.
He let out a grumble, nipping at my neck. “Did I say a minute? I meant five,” he countered. I felt the scruff of his facial hair brushing against my back and squirmed.
“You okay?”
“Tickles,” I whispered.
“Oh. I need to shave.”
He was usually clean shaven, but there was the occasional morning in the office where he turned up with some scruff, and frankly, it was sexy as hell. Distracting, but sexy. “Don’t shave,” I said. “I like it.”
“Dee says I look unprofessional when I’m scruffy.”
I turned over in his arms. “I think it makes you ruggedly handsome.”
He rubbed his scruffy cheek against mine. “I’ll direct Dee right to you when she complains, then.”
“I’ll make a complaint box just for her.” I lay there in his arms, right in that space between awake and asleep, and I knew if I let it, Trent’s deep, even breathing would be enough to lull me back to sleep. Was I actually awake at all? Was this all some kind of super-vivid dream? How had I gone from hating this Coffeezilla of a man to sleeping in his bed? Stacy was going to shriek her head off when I next saw her. In between rounds last night, I’d managed to send off a quick text so she wouldn’t worry about the fact I hadn’t come home. I knew she would have waited up with a glass of wine to hear all about it.
Spending the night , I’d written . Better than we imagined .
She’d replied with about forty emojis that I hadn’t had the energy to decipher in the middle of the night.
“What are you thinking?” Trent asked, his fingers moving up and down my arm before dancing across my breasts, over my ribs, down around my belly button. They were gentle little caresses. I knew he wasn’t trying to start anything, but he could easily get me going like this. I didn’t want to say Trent Saunders made me needy, but damn if the man didn’t know how to use those hands, and I was already a little desperate for the next time I would be at their mercy.
“I was thinking about the fact I have to tell Stacy I was still wearing her dress while you fucked me.”
He hummed in amusement. “I’ll pay for dry cleaning.”
“She probably won’t even care. She’ll be proud or something equally as ridiculous.” My stomach growled loud enough for us both to hear.
“Hungry?” Trent asked.
“Apparently I’m starving.”
He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made me break into laughter. “Probably should have provided you with sustenance.”
“I’m surprised I haven’t withered away,” I teased. “You worked me pretty hard last night.”
“I know.” He kissed my shoulder. “Should we get breakfast?”
I tucked his impossibly soft sheets up around us. “You’re not going to nip out to your fancy kitchen and whip me up a breakfast buffet?”
Trent glared at me playfully and rolled me onto his chest. I stayed there, running my fingertips along his jaw, and he took the opening to let his hand roam down my back, gently squeezing the curve of my ass. “I’d really prefer not to scare you away with my cooking.”
“You can’t be that bad in the kitchen.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m horrible,” he conceded. “I mean, I’ve survived all these years on my own. But I think there’s a difference between slapping together a sandwich and providing you with a real meal after all that work you did.”
I smirked. “I was doing a lot of work. I was practically carrying this team.”
“Carrying the team?” Trent snorted. “Sure you were.”
I pressed the back of my hand to my forehead, feigning exhaustion. “I was basically working for two all night.”
Trent tightened his hold on me, and I laughed. “I think I also put in some serious effort.” His lips tugged at my ear. “I don’t remember hearing you complaining much last night. It was a lot of ‘ Trent, oh god, mm-hmm, right there, just like that .’”
I knew he was teasing me, but damn if those breathy words repeated in my ear didn’t start an ache throbbing between my legs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right.”
“Anyway, back to food,” I said, shoving my curls out of the way. I didn’t even want to think of what a mess my hair must be after last night. It was going straight into a bun if I could find an elastic around this place.
“Back to food,” Trent agreed. “I’d really prefer to take you out for a nice breakfast. So I can be sure you’re eating something you actually want.”
“I could probably be convinced to leave this bed.”
He pressed a kiss to my cheek and sat up. “Good.”
“I’m gonna need a favor though.”
His eyebrow arched, curious.
“I’m not wearing that dress out to breakfast.”
“Ah, that’s fair.” Trent climbed out of bed, and I admired the long, toned expanse of muscle that rippled in the lingering shadow in the room. “I think I can come up with something.”
A half hour later, we walked down the sidewalk in the Village, hand in hand. The crisp October morning left the air smelling of fallen leaves. I was obsessed with it. For some reason, autumn always reminded me of solidly built furniture, and I wanted to snuggle up in a room that smelled of red cedar or sandalwood or pine.
“What are you craving?” Trent asked.
I hummed, squeezing his hand. “An oat milk latte and a lot of carbs.”
“I can get on board with the carbs.”
I tugged at the drawstring at my waist, tightening it. Trent had managed to scrounge up some sweats for me in his insanely large walk-in closet. They were too big, but I’d managed by rolling the waistband so they didn’t drag. Even if I was swimming in them, they were still a better alternative than the dress. The last thing I wanted was to strut through the Village in a slinky fuck-me outfit. Shoes had been harder to sort out, but Trent had found an old pair of tennis shoes that Dee had left at his place, and we’d made it work well enough to venture out for breakfast.
I couldn’t stop smiling as Trent’s fingers wove through mine. “So, where are we going?”
“Um…” He glanced down at his phone, clearly trying to follow the directions. “I think there’s a breakfast spot this way.” He looked up. “Wait. We’re on the wrong side of the street.”
We darted across between the traffic. “What do you mean you think ?” I laughed. “Don’t you know where the good breakfast spots are in your neighborhood?”
“Honestly, no. I’ve lived here forever, but I don’t enjoy eating out by myself.” He shrugged. “And I don’t usually have someone around to eat breakfast with.”
“Oh,” I said as we walked into a place called Café Brew. It was a cozy spot filled with college students with giant cups of coffee poring over laptops. “So, no breakfast dates?”
“Not really. I’m not big on morning-after breakfast with a one-night stand. Sort of defeats the purpose, you know?”
On the one hand, it was nice to hear that he considered what we had more than a one-night thing. On the other hand, it seemed a little cold. Definitely not the way I was used to thinking about people I dated, even if they were just short-term flings.
We were greeted by the hostess.
“I know you’re busy,” Trent said. “But any chance of a table for two?” He gave her a dashing smile that probably started her heart racing. I know it would have had that effect on me if I were her. I also saw him slip her a bill. I couldn’t see how much it was, but I didn’t miss the way her eyes widened. She shot me a Damn, you hit the jackpot, girl look before leading us to a table in the back of the café.
We sat down and ordered coffee, orange juice, and food. When the waitress returned with our drinks, she also brought a newspaper for Trent.
“Do you always read the paper in the morning?” I asked.
He nodded. “I normally grab one when I leave my place and read it in the car on the way to the office.”
I liked that he still read a real newspaper and not just the highlights in the app on his phone. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but there was something endearing about it. “Have you always done that?”
“Papa Davis always read the paper at the breakfast table. I think that always stuck with me even after he was gone, and I sort of carried on doing the same.”
“It’s funny the things that stick with us,” I said. “My parents always had tea and a bit of something sweet before going to bed. After I lost them, I started having a little cookie or something before going to sleep. I know it’s weird, but it made me feel closer to them in a way.”
“It’s not weird,” he insisted, frowning as he reached out to stroke the back of my hand. “It’s sweet. No pun intended.”
I chuckled. “Can I ask you something?”
He leaned back in his chair. “I know where this is going.”
“What?”
“Nothing. There’s just a tone.”
“What do you mean a tone ?”
“Women have a tone when they ask about other women.”
My lips twisted. “I just wondered about your comment. The ‘not usually having someone around to eat breakfast with’ thing.” I wasn’t going to lie. That there wasn’t a string of women lined up at Trent’s place made me happy. But that didn’t stop me from being curious about his love life. When was his last serious relationship? Why did it end? We’d never talked about anything like that, and it felt like a conversation we should have, just so we’d know where things stood. “Last night you said it had been a while since you slept with anyone. I just wondered how long a while really was.”
His finger traced the space between my knuckles. “How long had it been for you?”
I let out a heavy breath. I supposed sharing my own history was only fair. “Well, it’s been…I guess about nine months since the last time I went to bed with someone. A friends-with-benefits thing with a guy from a restaurant where I used to work. It was pretty casual, and it ended when he met someone else. It’s been a couple of years since my last serious relationship. It ended…pretty badly,” I admitted. “I had some trust issues after that.”
“I’m sorry that happened,” Trent said.
I gave him a tiny smile. I didn’t want to talk about Fisher or my past. I was in a better place now—finally ready to leave all that uncertainty and distrust in my past.
The waitress returned with our food. Trent offered me some of his avocado toast in exchange for some of my breakfast burrito. I wrinkled my nose at his offering but tried it anyway. “Avocados are overrated.”
“Do not dismiss the avocado.” He frowned at me. “It’s a superior fruit.”
“Superiorly overrated,” I said, giggling at his irritated expression. “Is this why you don’t take women to breakfast? Because you know your breakfast choices leave you open to mockery?”
He pointed his fork at me. “My avocado toast and I will rise above your petty judgment.”
I snorted, and he gave me a grin. “But seriously, there’s no dark secret to it,” he explained. “I just haven’t had the best luck as far as love goes.”
“I find that impossible to believe. How does a guy like you struggle with love?”
He hummed. “Not struggle, exactly. It’s more that I’ve realized after the fact that some of the women I dated weren’t in the relationship for the same things as me.”
“I’m not following. What were they after?”
“Well, there was this girl in college. Tessa. I thought we got along really well, and when we started dating, I was completely stoked. But then I found out she was actually just with me to get to Aiden.”
I put my burrito down to cover my mouth. “Oh my god, stop! No, she wasn’t.”
He nodded. “Aiden was one of the stars of our football team. It made him a big shot on campus. There were plenty of girls chasing him, and I guess she thought getting into his inner circle would put her ahead of the rest. We were at this party one night after a big game. The whole football team was celebrating a huge win. I left her alone for five minutes to go get us drinks, and I came back to find her trying to seduce Aiden.”
I gasped. “What happened?”
“Aiden totally shut her down.” He laughed. “I’ve never seen the guy move away from someone so quickly. Honestly, it was a dumb move on her part. Anyone who knows Aiden at all knows that he’d never in a million years betray a friend. Dating me guaranteed that Aiden wouldn’t lay a finger on her. But it was still a rough experience.”
“That really sucks.” I reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
“Eh, she was still better than Katie. She’s a model; we dated back when I was still running BeautiTool. Turned out she was more interested in landing the spokesmodel gig than being with me.”
I could only stare at him in shock. “You sound so…calm,” I said, voicing what was bugging me about this. “Aren’t you angry about what they did?”
He shrugged. “Not especially. I was pretty pissed off when it happened, but it was a long time ago. What good would it do me to keep dwelling on it?”
I couldn’t make up my mind if that was healthy of him or just really coldblooded. How could he not care that these women had been using him?
“I don’t understand how you keep ending up in those kinds of relationships.”
“It really only happened twice,” he pointed out. “I figured it out after that.”
“Figured what out?” I asked, an uneasiness growing in the pit of my stomach.
“That people go into relationships with an idea of what they want to get out of it,” he said matter-of-factly. “And that’s not a bad thing—as long as both partners are on the same page. The problem with Tessa and Katie was that they tried to be underhanded about it. If they’d been straight with me from the start about what they were after, I’d have known they weren’t in it for the long haul, and I wouldn’t have gotten invested. Since then, I’ve kept things pretty casual. It’s cleaner that way.”
Was that how he saw the relationship between us? As something casual? No, we wouldn’t be out having breakfast together if that was the case. So what was going on here, from his perspective? Part of me wanted to ask—but the rest of me felt like now wasn’t the time. Trent and I had only spent one night together. There was no rush—we had all the time in the world to figure out what this meant for the two of us.
He smiled at me, offering me some more avocado.
I smirked, shaking my head. Trent returned his attention to his newspaper.
“Hey, look at this,” Trent said, flipping the newspaper around. “We made the society page.”
“What?”
I stared down at a photograph from the rooftop club last night. The paparazzi must have been there, sneaking photographs of Kyle Landing and his entourage. Trent and I had both ended up in the background of the shot. I don’t remember seeing anyone taking photos, but I’d been totally absorbed by Trent.
“The paper even lists you by name,” I teased, reading the caption beneath the photo.
He rolled his eyes. “Wonderful.”
“You’re famous. If this sustainable line flops, at least you can always fall back on that.” I laughed at the grumpy look on his face, and as I focused on that, I almost forgot to worry about whether this was a relationship I could count on.