Ten Tiny Breaths
Page 29

I look up and see Trent’s blue eyes crinkle with sincerity, and I’m filled with sadness. I’ll never be ready to talk about those things. Ever. I don’t say that though. I just nod and say, “thank you.”
He pulls me closer to him, his lips parting as he lays an intimate kiss on my forehead.
***
After touring the lengthy boardwalk that stretches out over the water—bumping into a small group of park rangers patrolling the area—we find a seat on a stone wall. Trent unzips the cooler bag and hands me a cold bottle of water. It’s only then that I realize how parched I am, having been distracted with watching Trent’s relaxed stride up until now. “I figured it’d be hot out. I just really want to see a gator. Then we can grab a bite to eat,” he promises.
“This is perfect, Trent. Really.” And it is. Absolutely perfect. We’re overlooking the marshlands as a golden sun sinks into the water, painting the sky in hues of pink and purple. The sounds of soft water ripples and strange bird squawks float through the air. It’s just about the most peaceful place I’ve ever been. Of course, anywhere would be perfect with Trent.
“Yeah?” He rests his hand on the back of my neck, his fingers lingering along the collar of my shirt, slipping under to graze along my bare skin. I shiver in response.
“Cold?” he teases.
I give him a crooked smile. “No. Distracted. You’re going to make me choke on my water.”
He dips his head in assent as he pulls his hand away, earning a blip of disappointment inside me. It’s quickly squashed with concern.
“Look! Do you see that?” Trent’s voice raises an octave and his hand moves back to my shoulder as he leans in. He stretches his other arm out to point out the long narrow head peeking out from the water’s surface no more than twenty feet from us.
My appetite vanishes instantly. “Ohmigod. Is he watching us?”
“Maybe. Hard to tell.”
“Don’t those things move ridiculously fast?” I swallow repeatedly, more than a little freaked out. Gators in enclosures at a zoo are one thing. There aren’t any walls separating us here.
“Don’t worry. I did some research before we came. This trail is popular for seeing alligators up close. The park rangers are just down that way, in any case.”
“If you say so,” I murmur, noting how close Trent’s mouth is next to me. So close, I could just lean in and …
My lips graze the corner of his mouth, catching him off guard. Turning to face me, he regards me with a momentary flicker of surprise. But only a moment, and then he leans in to cover my lips with his. He kisses me tenderly, his hand finding its way to my chin to turn my head, his thumb gripping my jaw as he pulls my knees close to him with his other hand. My breath hitches as his tongue runs along the edge of my lips before sweeping into my mouth, sending a shock through my body. I can’t help but reach for him, my fingers settling on the curves of his chest.
He releases the lightest growl as he breaks free. His biceps flex as he scoops my body up onto his lap, and burrows his head into my neck, taking my lobe into his mouth, nipping it painlessly. My hand skates over his throat, reveling in the thickness of it, of its muscles. As my thumb slides over his Adam’s apple, and his mouth trails kisses all along my neck, I close my eyes and let my head rest against his, weightless and floating in his midst, under his control. Under his touch.
“Kace,” he whispers.
I make a strange half moan, half gurgle noise in response.
“Are you afraid?”
Afraid? Peeking out of one eye, I check the marsh to see our observer in the same spot. “He hasn’t moved yet, but I have to tell you, I doubt I can drive that bike back if you lose a leg tonight.”
Trent bursts out laughing and I feel the vibrations right down into my ni**les, he’s so close. “I’ll be fine for tonight. I still need to have my way with you. The shack’s back that way.” His head jerks behind us.
“I hope you’ve put fresh sheets down at least.”
With another chuckle, Trent settles his head against my shoulder as I sit in anxious silence, watching the alligator drift away to join his little friends. I wonder if it can sense the hold that Trent has placed on me. With little effort, within weeks, Trent has torn down my self-preservative defenses and fear, quickly earning himself a place of necessity in my life. And then it dawns on me what Trent was asking. Am I afraid of this.
“I’m terrified,” I whisper. At first I don’t think he heard me. But then he turns to study the contours of my face, his brows drawn together, and I know that he did. “I … um … I … it’s been a while since I’ve done this,” I go on to say. I've never done this. Ever. Nothing close to this. “And this …” I hold up my hand within his. “Just this alone is kind of a big deal for me.”
He lifts my hand to press against his lips. Then he clears his throat. “Look, Kacey. What happened in your room that day…”
I feel my brow furrow, searching. My room?
“The snake in your shower?”
Oh, yeah. My heart jolts like a thousand watt current just zapped it with the reminder.
“I’m … uh,” he stretches his long legs out in front of him but holds me tight on his lap. “I’m trying hard not to let that happen again. For now.”
He must be able to read the disappointment that smashes into me because he quickly explains himself, his eyes wide and earnest. “It’s not that I don’t want it or you.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows. “Believe me, I’m sure you know exactly how much I do want that right now.”
I smile, wiggling in his lap.
He chuckles, my actions breaking his serious note. But it comes back quickly. “I have a hard time—a really hard time—controlling myself around you, Kacey. You’re unbelievably attractive and I’m a guy. It doesn’t take much for you to dissolve my will power. But I think we need to move slow. Take our time.” He gives me a meaningful look, like he understands more about me than I’ve told him. “I think that’s important, for both of us.”
I open my mouth to speak, but I’m not sure how to respond yet. He’s right. Slow is good. Slow is safe. But right now, with his fingertips back on my collar, feeling his excitement digging into me, I don’t want slow. I want a sudsy hot mess.
I allow myself a moment for a deep breath to try and regulate my spastic heart. “Who says I want anything with you? You assume a lot.”
“Maybe I do.” With a crooked smile, his hand slips up under the back of my shirt, moving painstakingly slow up along my spine, earning a slight gasp from me.
“Yeah, that’s slow alright,” I croak.
“Am I assuming too much right now?”
I shake my head lightly to let him know that he’s not assuming anything. I’ll happily take anything from Trent that I can get. Slow or fast.
His fingers fan out as they skate over my bare skin, sliding to my rib cage to graze the various scar ridges. His thumb strokes back and forth. “Couldn’t help but notice you have a few of these.”
I’m used to people questioning my scars. I’ve learned to shrug them off smoothly. “Oh yeah? When’d you see those?”
He gives me a wry smile.
“Pervert.” I try to push off my embarrassment, but I feel my cheeks flush anyway.