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I watch mesmerized as her eyes light up and the edges of her mouth tip up slightly in what I know would be a smile if her mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. Determination fills her gaze and then she goes down on me with so much gusto I’m left breathless. I hit the back of her throat again, but this time instead of immediately bobbing back up, she holds me there and swallows.
And I come so hard I see stars.
My eyes close on their own accord, the bliss too much as I release down her throat, and I swear nothing has ever been sexier than when she pulls off and gives my tip another lick and wipes her mouth.
I shudder from her touch, my tip overly sensitive after my much-needed release, and then collapse on the bed.
“Come here,” I say, my breath still coming out in hard pants.
She lies down next to me, and I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close until she’s resting her head on my shoulder and her body is snuggled up next to mine.
“Give me five minutes and then I’ll be ready for round two.”
She rubs her hand along my stomach, and as it turns out, I don’t need five minutes after all.
25
My face is smooshed against a warm body, and for a second I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want this to be a dream. I inhale deeply, soaking in Trent’s manly scent. I don’t know if it’s a cologne he wears or his deodorant, but he always smells so fucking good.
He’s still passed out, and I can’t blame him. We had more sex last night than I’ve ever had in a twenty-four-hour period. With a long look at him, I gently move off the bed, grab my robe, and then tiptoe from the room, closing the door softly behind me. I lean back against the door, trying to wrap my head around everything.
I thought I would feel different if Trent and I got together.
Are we even together? Or is he going to tell me he wants a friends with benefits situation? Am I setting myself up for heartbreak all over again?
My stomach clenches, and I fight back the bile that rises in my throat. I’m used to guys pulling the rug out from under me, but the idea of Trent doing it hurts more than ever.
Needing a distraction, I look around my apartment and decide it could use a good deep clean. I grab my cleaning supplies, put on my gloves, and get to work doing anything I can to keep myself from thinking about what happens when Trent wakes up. I dust my living room, dining room, and kitchen. I fluff up the pillows on my couch. I deep clean the bathroom. Then I move to the kitchen, sweeping and mopping the floor before I decide to clean and reorganize my fridge.
I’m on my knees, my upper half inside my fridge while I scrub at a spot where a condiment of some kind must’ve spilled when I hear Trent’s voice behind me.
“It’s seven in the morning. What the hell are you doing?”
I sit up and glance at him, trying to see if his expression will give away how he’s feeling about us. He just looks at me with amused curiosity which doesn’t tell me much of anything except that he probably thinks I’m a little crazy.
“I’m cleaning.”
He arches a brow and can no longer fight back his grin. “I see that. Is this something you normally do this early in the morning?”
“Um, not usually, no.”
He tilts his head, his eyes intense as his grin slowly fades. “What’s going on?”
Instinctually, I want to say nothing, but I’ve avoided talking to Trent for eight months and it didn’t get us anywhere. “I, um…I clean when I’m anxious. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, you know, when you woke up. Last time…well, last time wasn’t exactly what I had expected and—”
Understanding dawns on his face. “And you thought I’d say I want to be just friends again.”
It’s hard to hold his gaze when I’m feeling so vulnerable, but I do. “Something like that.”
He nods, and I can practically see the wheels in his head turning. “Well, we’ll just have to wipe that horrible morning from your memory, won’t we? I say we replace it with orgasms.”
I let out a startled laugh. “What?”
One side of his mouth lifts in a charismatic smile that I would totally expect of a rock star. “You heard me. Orgasms. Lots and lots of orgasms. Starting now.” He kneels down on the floor and guides me until I’m lying on my back, and I’m grateful I already swept and mopped this floor.
“What are you doing?”
His eyes gleam. “Eating breakfast.”
