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Happiness.
???
Trent came to a stop in front of my house. We’d been gone for hours, and sadly I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet, but I had to. Cinderella’s time at the ball was up. Reality had returned.
“Thank you for today,” he turned to me, his eyes reading my face.
“I had a great time,” I told him, my words sounding silly to my ears.
“Good,” he smiled. His blue eyes darkened to navy as he watched me. “I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered so low I wasn’t sure I heard him right. “I’m afraid,” he swallowed, looking down, “I’m afraid when I get back, you’ll ignore me again.”
“Get back? Are you leaving?”
He nodded. “I have to go back to school. I have a few more weeks of classes before winter break starts.”
Weeks. I would have to go a few weeks without seeing Trenton. Now that I’d agreed to this relationship, I hated to think I had to wait weeks before I saw him again. Trent was the only person that made me happy. Having him around brought me out of the dark space I’d been living in for so long. Without him here, I feared I’d retreat back into my dark hole—the hole that had become a suffocating pit. In fact, I could already feel my body drawing in and my mind shutting down. I didn’t want to withdrawal into myself anymore though. I wanted to be the girl Trenton believed I was.
“That’s a while,” I mumbled, picking at a loose thread on my sweater.
Trenton took my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I know,” his voice was deep with sadness, “but I’ll be back. I’m not leaving you, Rowan.”
I closed my eyes, absorbing his words. A week ago I’d been avoiding him and now I was struggling to say goodbye. I didn’t want to be this girl though—the one dependent on someone else for happiness. That’s why I knew in the end we’d never work. I was too messed up. I was broken…splintered and fractured beyond repair. I didn’t understand why Trenton couldn’t see that trying to mend me was pointless. Once so much damage has been done, there’s nothing you can do to erase it.
“Rowan,” he repeated my name, brushing his fingers over my cheek, “everything will be fine. I’ll call you…and while I’m gone, I’ll be planning something spectacular for our next date, because there will be a second, and a third, and a…well, you get the idea,” he grinned and I couldn’t help but smile in response. “Don’t panic on me now.”
“I’m not panicking.”
“You’re definitely over-thinking then,” he tapped my forehead. “Thinking will only get you in trouble, so don’t, just feel,” his voice dropped to a deep tone and his face was so close to mine that I could have counted every eyelash if I wanted. His breath fanned over my lips. I knew he was waiting for me to make the first move this time. I was trying to decide if I wanted to or not. I mean, that was dumb, of course I wanted to, but I wasn’t sure if it was really the best idea. Kissing always seemed to prove to be dangerous territory for us. But I did it. I leaned forward that last little bit and rested my lips against his. Neither of us moved at first, then Trenton growled low in his throat, his fingers tangling in my hair. Both of his hands lowered to my waist and a small shriek escaped me as he pulled me onto his lap. He leaned the seat back and I landed roughly against his solid chest. Through the whole process our lips never broke contact. I grasped the fabric of his shirt tightly in my hands, needing to cling to something that would keep me grounded. His tongue pressed against my lips and my mouth opened in response. Damn, the man could kiss, and I really didn’t want to think about the reason why he was so good. I wasn’t naïve, but I didn’t want to torture myself with images of Trenton with other girls either.
His hands ventured under the edge of my sweater, over my stomach, and up to my breasts. I gasped. Brave under the cover of the night sky I let him lift the sweater over my head, so I was left in nothing but my bra. Yep, we so shouldn’t kiss. It always ended up going too far, but right then I didn’t care.
My center pressed against him and heat flooded my body.
The light stubble adorning his chin and cheeks scratched at my skin, but I didn’t mind.
“Trent.” My gasp filled the confines of the car. I clawed at his black thermal shirt, desperate to remove it—to have nothing between us. A week ago I’d been running from him—too scared to admit that I had feelings for him—but I was done being that girl. I was ready to take what I wanted for as long as he’d let me. I knew I wasn’t worthy of him, and that I’d only end up hurt in the end, but some things are worth breaking for—and let’s face it, I was already wrecked, so how much damage could one more fracture cause?
He tore the shirt off and tossed it somewhere behind him. My hands splayed across the warm skin of his muscular chest, his heart beating steadily beneath the palm of my hand. My hands ventured lower into the dips and curves of his abdominals—and holy hell did the man have abs to drool over. He certainly hadn’t had those when we were sixteen.
His lips descended down my neck and over my shoulder—the little kisses making my body hum pleasantly. He pushed aside one bra strap and his lips continued lower, his hot breath causing my body to arch.
“Trenton, please,” I moaned, my fingers in his hair, pulling him close.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his hips pressing against me.
I felt him and I knew what I needed to relieve the pressure building in my body.
My fingers clumsily fumbled with his belt.
His hands ceased what they were doing to my body and grabbed ahold of mine. “Stop,” he gasped breathlessly. “Stop,” he repeated, and I wasn’t sure if the word was meant for him or me. “We can’t do this, not here like this. I already told you,” he stared into my eyes so I saw that he wasn’t mad, “we’re not ready for that.”
Boldly, I pressed my body down on him so that he knew I was very aware of the hard-on he was sporting. “You seem ready to me.”
He released my hands and clutched my hips tightly in his hands. His eyes closed as he shook his head back and forth. “I can’t. Not yet. I’ve waited years to get you back,” he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear that had fallen forward to hide my face from his sight, “I won’t ruin this by rushing things. I’ve proved how patient I can be, and I assure you, I won’t make love to you
—because, yes, it will be making love, not fucking or anything like that—until I know that you’re not going to run from me the next day.”
How could I possibly argue with that?
