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That’s the most shocking part.
He holds me as I cry.
He holds me as I breathe.
He holds me as I try to pull myself together.
This man who hates me rubs his hands up and down my arms to comfort me.
A part of me knows I should pull away.
But this feeling is scarce.
Not readily available to me.
I’m not prepared to let it go just yet.
The need to bask in it for a little longer weaves its way through me.
I don’t want it to end.
Not when I know the feeling won’t be back.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve been comforted like this. Maybe never.
Eventually, and after a few deep breaths, I wake up from the dream I’m in and pull my head back to look up at him.
Blue eyes meet mine.
A million questions staring back.
I think he’s going to press and ask me why I was crying, but instead, he stares down at me before blinking. The look from before is gone, replaced with a look of confusion.
I don’t think he’s confused about me. More at himself.
Neither of us moves for a beat.
Then he drops his hands, turns, and walks away.
What the hell just happened?
Time passes way too fast. I get busy with schoolwork and the dumb papers I’m required to turn in every damn week. Buried in books, I almost forget that we are going to Cresthill today.
When I leave my room and head to Trent’s office, he’s not there.
Next, I go to the kitchen.
Nothing.
Where is he?
However, his driver, Michael, is waiting for me in the foyer after I have searched the whole damn loft.
“Mr. Aldridge won’t be riding with us, ma’am.”
A part of me is annoyed that he didn’t tell me himself. Another part is happy because I feel a bit awkward after he held me when I cried. Couple that with still remembering him in his birthday suit . . . well, maybe not being trapped with him in a small space is a good thing.
When his body was pressed against me, I was too upset to think about it, but the moment he left me, it was all I could think of. The heat dissipated too quickly when I lost his touch. His warmth was something I couldn’t understand craving.
