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Trey stood so close she could detect the spicy scent of his now familiar cologne, one she’d forever associate with him. She bit her bottom lip. What would his skin taste like if she leaned forward and licked his bare chest?
She touched a button on his open shirt. “Why are you almost naked?”
“I waited for you.”
“In your bathing suit?”
“I thought I’d join you in the pool tonight.”
“Oh,” she murmured, liking the idea of swimming with Trey, both of them all slippery and wet. She placed her palm over his heart and felt his heat. “Too late.”
“Yes,” Trey said, his voice husky. “It is.”
And then his mouth was on hers, taking what he wanted. All night long, while telling her friends how much she needed to get away from this man, all she could think about was this: his lips plundering hers and her willingly giving him everything she had without Jason watching.
Trey pulled away. She opened her eyes and found him staring at her. They were both breathing hard, as if they’d just sprinted fifty meters, but that was no reason to stop kissing her. She slid her hands up his chest, and he grabbed them, his dark eyes intent on hers. She ignored his attempt to stop her—it was half-hearted, anyway—locked her hands around his neck and stepped into his body, finding the proof that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
A shiver of something delicious ran up her backbone when Trey placed his hands on her buttocks and pushed her groin into his. Finally. No more frustrating kisses in front of a little boy.
Suddenly in a hurry, Trey half carried and dragged her into his bedroom, but she resisted and reached for her duffel. She couldn’t leave her service weapon in the hall, which meant she knew exactly what she was doing. She was doing what she wanted to do, what she’d fantasized about for days. Ever since that first bogus good-night kiss.
Trey made an impatient noise and grabbed the duffel. Holding her with one hand and the bag in the other, he moved into his bedroom, kicked the door shut and tossed the duffel into a walk-in closet larger than her bedroom.
She only had a second to absorb the fact that she was in Trey’s bedroom, that the bed was turned down and that the room was super neat—but of course Maria would keep it that way—before he was back to kissing her and unbuttoning her blouse at the same time. A delicious tug in her belly made her long to feel her bare flesh pressed against his. She stepped away, unzipped her jeans and wiggled out of them.
Wearing only her bra and panties, she faced him, for the first time unafraid that a man would see the brand left on her by Roy. Trey had already seen her scar of shame.
He released her bra, and she sucked in a deep breath, the air cool on her skin. He cupped her right breast with a warm and gentle palm. She closed her eyes to savor the sensation as he ran a finger around her nipple, urging it to a peak.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly.
Kelly opened her eyes. She felt beautiful right now. Trey made her feel like a princess, a strange sensation for her. He stared at her with open admiration, the way every woman wanted a man to look at her.
She reached up and slid the shirt off his shoulders, skimming both hands down his arms as the material fell away. His skin was smooth and warm, the muscles hard from years of tennis.
“Kelly—”
“Don’t talk,” she whispered, interlocking her fingers with his and stepping backward until her calves bumped into his bed. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to think. She just wanted to feel. She’d chicken out with too much conversation.
She was going to do this, and nothing was going to stop her.
She lay down on the bed—God, the sheets were so smooth they had to be silk—and extended her arms overhead glorying in the sensation. She probably looked wanton, like some hooker from the streets, but didn’t care.
Trey placed a knee on the bed, looked down at her, his expression impossible to read. But she didn’t know this man. How was she supposed to understand what he was thinking? Maybe he wanted to tell her something, something she didn’t want to hear. Not right now, anyway.
She lowered her right arm and used her index finger to circle her nipple, her gaze locked on his.
