16. Natasha
NATASHA
“Don’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.”