Chapter 18
Maren
Somehow, Trevor not only manages to get himself invited for dinner tomorrow, he also manages to spend three hours entertaining my sister before her bedtime.
While I sit on the couch watching one of my shows, the two of them stay parked at the table. I don’t know exactly what they’re doing, but I’m not going to ask any questions. I get very little time to myself, and I’m going to take full advantage.
Even if it’s Trevor Bradshaw responsible for providing it.
By the time eight thirty rolls around, I’ve watched not one, but two episodes, and enjoyed an entire package of frozen sour grapes.
After switching off the television, I stand up, stretching out before turning to my sister. “It’s bedtime. Pack it up.”
As usual, Zara starts whining. I suck in a breath, ready to shut her down. But Trevor beats me to the punch.
“No whining.” He stands, collecting the items they’ve strewn across the table. “If you don’t give your sister a hard time, maybe we can plan a trip to that petting zoo we found.”
Zara perks up, a smile lifting her lips. “Okay.”
I look from Trevor to my sister as they work together cleaning up their mess. Did he just bribe my sister into behaving?
It’s something I was completely unaware of before Zara came into my life. A fact I blame on my own nonexistent parenting. Nothing prepared me for how much of raising a child is about bribery and negotiation.
At first, I felt bad about bribing my sister. Like I was taking the easy way out. Until I realized I also routinely bribe myself. Nothing gets me moving faster than the reward of my favorite iced coffee when I’m on time for work. I felt way less bad about it after that.
I feel even less bad about it now that Trevor’s done it too.
From everything I’ve heard, his childhood was great.
By all accounts, his parents were, and still are, fantastic.
So if bribery is his first inclination, there’s a good chance it was theirs.
And if it’s good enough for Deidre Bradshaw, it’s sure as hell good enough for me.
As soon as the table is clear, I collect my sister, helping her into the bathroom to get her cleaned up. The cake removed from her hair and the steak juice washed from between her fingers, I get her in a fresh pair of PJs and lead her into the hall.
To find Trevor is nowhere in sight.
Did he just leave without saying goodbye? I know it’s late, but I would have expected him to at least let me know he was going.
I try not to be too pissed about it as I tuck my sister in and flip off her light, but I’m annoyed. Aggravated he just walked right out like I don’t even deserve—
I stop when my eyes land on my very clean kitchen.
I must not have heard him working in here over the sounds of the bathwater and the blow dryer. All the dishes are done and put away, and the counters have been wiped clean, along with the dining table. Every bit of trash is gone, and the bag has been taken out, replaced with a fresh liner.
I’m a little less mad he didn’t say goodbye.
I got to watch two episodes of my show earlier, but it’s still on the early side, and I’m not quite ready to go to sleep. Heading back to the couch, I drop down to my favorite cushion. As I reach for the remote, my hand freezes midair.
A note sits just beside it on the coffee table.
I snatch it off the surface, reading the slanted words twice.
Maren,
Thank you for having dinner with me. I hope Zara didn’t give you too much shit over bedtime. Mostly because I already bought us tickets to go to a petting zoo tomorrow.
Trevor
It takes me a minute to notice I’m smiling. Even when I do, it’s impossible to smother the expression out. I know Trevor making plans like this is yet another example of his overstepping tendencies, but not having to be the one who does everything is so nice, I don’t freaking care.
Getting up from the sofa, I follow the same path I did last night, holding my breath as I look through the slats of the blinds hanging on the window.
My eyes immediately land on Trevor’s car, and instead of being bothered by the way he’s invading my life, I breathe a little easier knowing he’s there.
I don’t quite understand what’s motivating him to spend his nights uncomfortably angled in a car seat instead of sleeping in what I’m sure is the world’s most expensive and luxurious bed.
Honestly, sounds pretty fucking dumb to me.
But what do I know? I’ve never actually slept in the world’s most expensive or luxurious bed. It might suck.
I doubt it though.
I resume my place on the sofa, watching another episode of my show before deciding it’s bedtime. Another look out the window confirms Trevor is still right where I left him. Then I brush my teeth and climb under the covers of my non-luxurious, inexpensive, queen-size bed.
I bet it’s still more comfortable than the front seat of Trevor’s car.
Rolling to one side, I fluff my pillow and close my eyes, prepared to fall asleep exactly like I did last night. Trevor’s out there. I’m safe. Someone is watching out so I don’t have to be ready to deal with anything bad that could happen.
But Trevor’s out there. Trying to sleep in a suit in the front seat of his car.
I flail around a little, flipping to my other side, trying to find a position that will be so comfortable I pass out.
There’s no way to get comfortable sleeping in a car. I know. I’ve done it. Many, many times. One of the best days of my life was the day I got a place of my own and had a bed without bugs to sleep in instead of the lumpy seat of my car.
“Fucking hell.”
I fling back the covers, grabbing one of my pillows and a blanket before shoving my feet into the closest pair of shoes and stomping my way out the front door.
The day was warm, so now that the temperature has dropped, there’s dew on the grass, and it soaks into my ankles as I storm to where Trevor’s parked.
He’s already lowering the window as I approach, but I don’t say a word.
I just cram the pillow and blanket through the opening before turning to march back into my house.
Once inside, I kick off my shoes and peel away the damp socks before climbing back into bed. Blowing out a sigh, I wiggle around as I cuddle into the comfort of my mattress, expecting now I’ll be able to crash.
But the seconds drag on, turning into minutes.
Then the minutes start to collect, racking up as I remember how little of a difference a pillow and blanket genuinely made when I was a teenager.
Sure, they took the edge off the discomfort, but it was the equivalent of putting lipstick on a pig.
The pig gets cuter, but at the end of the day it still stinks.
“Such a fucking pain in my ass.” I rip the covers off my body again, cramming my bare feet into the shoes I discarded, before yet again making my way outside.
It hasn’t been a dramatically long time since I was out here, but the temperature has dropped pretty significantly. By the time I make it to Trevor’s car, I’m hugging my middle and shivering. When his window doesn’t immediately lower like last time, I bang on it.
The dark tinted glass opens to reveal a rumpled looking Trevor Bradshaw.
Most men would look messy and unkempt, but not him.
He still looks just as handsome as always.
The five o’clock shadow peppering his jaw adds a ruggedness he doesn’t normally possess, and the loose waves of his hair make me want to run my fingers through the strands to see what they feel like when they’re not plastered into place by hair gel.
His dark brows pinch together, a look of concern tightening his features. “What’s wrong?”
Shit. I was so busy noticing how unfortunately sexy he looks, I forgot to yell at him for ruining my night.
“You’re what’s wrong.” The damp chill in the air makes a shiver rack my body, sending goosebumps racing across my skin and pulling my nipples so tight they hurt.
“If you’re going to be a pain in the ass and refuse to go home, then I guess I have to let you sleep on my couch. Otherwise I’ll be up all night.”
Trevor angles a brow. “Why would you be up all night?”
Is that what I said? I didn’t mean to say that. Definitely not out loud.
“Just shut up and come on.” I step back, making room for him to open the door. “Or don’t. I don’t really care.”
“Obviously you do care, otherwise you would be asleep.” Trevor closes the window as he opens the door. “And if it will make you feel better, I suppose I can sleep on your sofa.”
I scoff. “Make me feel better?” I try to shrug, but my shoulders just wiggle around weirdly. “I don’t care where you sleep. You can pass out on the grass if that’s what you really want to do.”
Trevor’s playful expression suddenly morphs into something much more serious.
He slings the blanket I brought him earlier over my head, draping it across my back before using the fabric to reel me closer.
He pulls me in so quickly, I can’t stop my feet, and end up with my front pressed to his.
Leaning down, he teases the tip of my nose with his.
“If you don’t care where I sleep, then I’d like to put in a request.”
“You’re not sleeping in my bed.” I mean to say it aggressively, but the words don’t really carry the bite I intend.
Trevor’s lips pull into a sinful smile. “I’m sure I could come up with a few ideas if you want to stay awake.”
I swallow hard, because is that what I want? A line I want to cross?
Trevor must sense my hesitation, because suddenly he’s stepping back, putting a little space between us as he tucks the blanket tighter around me. “But it’s probably better if we get a little sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
I ignore the flutter of disappointment echoing through my stomach as he leads me back home, urging me up the steps and through the front door.
Having sex with Trevor again is a terrible idea. I know this. But is it any worse of an idea than allowing him to get me off during the workday? Probably not.
If anything, taking our physical interactions off company property probably makes the most sense. Getting caught with the boss’s hand in my pants would surely make people question the validity of my position. And I’m not willing to risk my job for anything.
Not even a fantastic orgasm.
Trevor continues moving me along, directing me straight to my bedroom. He pauses a few feet in, his eyes moving around the shadowy space. It’s dimly lit, but the glowing salt lamp in one corner offers enough light to make out the basics.
Taking in the wrought-iron bed and mismatch nightstands, Trevor says, “This is actually pretty close to what I expected your bedroom to look like.”
“You were imagining what my bedroom would look like?” I shiver again, even though I’m not cold anymore. “That’s…weird.”
His eyes slide to fix on my face. “I wasn’t imagining what your bedroom would look like, Maren.” He steps closer, the scent of his skin invading my lungs. “I was imagining fucking you. Your bedroom just happened to be there.”
Oh. My. God.
What is a girl supposed to say to that?
This girl apparently says, “We can’t fuck in here. Zara’s bedroom is right on the other side of the wall.”
“Correction.” Trevor silently closes the door behind him.
“We can’t fuck loudly in here.” He tugs away the blanket draped around my shoulders.
“If you can be quiet, we can do whatever we want.” Tossing the blanket onto the mattress behind me, Trevor runs his lips up the side of my neck.
“Or, I can go sleep on the couch like I planned.”
My eyes roll back as he nips the spot just beneath my ear. “We shouldn’t have sex again.”
“Okay.” He releases me, stepping back.
I nearly fall forward from the sudden shift. “Wait, what?”
“Anything but an enthusiastic yes means no, Maren.” Trevor unbuttons the front of his jacket. “And that wasn’t an enthusiastic yes.”
“But—” I sputter. “But what about when you paid me to let you get me off?”
“That was a negotiation.” He shucks his outer layer. “Sex isn’t a negotiation. It’s a yes, or a no.”
I scoff as he turns. “Where are you going?”
“To the couch.” Trevor pauses to peer at me over one shoulder. “Unless you want to enthusiastically ask me to come fuck you.”
I very much want to do that, but it feels an awful lot like making life too easy on him. So—in spite of the throb between my legs—I lift my chin, pressing my lips together.
Most men would be pissed. Angry over a rejection after the interaction we just had.
Not Trevor.
He seems… Pleased?
His lips curve in a slow smile. Then he gives me a wink as he pulls open the door and steps out into the hall. “Sweet dreams, Maren.”
I stand there for a few minutes, thinking he’s going to come back and give me what I secretly want.
Nope.
He seriously went and laid on my couch.
And now I have to go to bed, horny and aching, with him just a handful of steps away.
I could go to him. Demand he fuck me through my mattress. And he would.
As long as I demanded enthusiastically.
Well, fuck him. Metaphorically.
I flop down in my bed, pulling the covers up to my chin as I stare at the ceiling.
Wishing like hell I knew how to be just a little less difficult. Because then I’d be fucking Trevor.
Literally.