“Can’t say I do.”
After zipping up, she glanced sheepishly at Trent, who had already righted himself.
“Crap. Uh, Trent?”
“What is it?”
“We sort of forgot to…well, um, we didn’t use protection.”
He swore and clenched his fists. The look of dread on his face hurt more than it should have. She didn’t want to get pregnant right now either, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world.
“You said you were on the pill, so we’re safe, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And I’m clean. I always use protection and have regular check-ups.”
“Um, yeah. Me too.” No, he didn’t always use protection. Their first time against the freezer door of his bakery kitchen they’d forgone the condom and relied on her birth control. And she didn’t need to be reminded that he was a regular in the condom-buying department.
“You’re not pregnant. I mean…there’s really no chance…”
“No, no chance. I haven’t missed any pills. Even when I was sick. I’ve been on the pill for a long time and have never had any…problems.” Eat that! Yes, I’ve been having sex before I met you. Not that she could remember a single sexual encounter before him. Trent sort of wiped everyone else from her memory.
“Good. Good. ‘Cause you know I don’t want kids. It’s…I just…yeah.”
“I know.” She turned away from him and fixed her bra, squeezing her eyes shut to block the tears from flowing. God, she was stupid!
The hike back to the parking lot was quiet and tense. If he hadn’t made it clear before that he didn’t do relationships and commitment, he sure as hell clarified it today. Being dumped by a fiancé, heck, two fiancés, didn’t hurt as much as this. Looking back on her previous relationships, Rayne could honestly admit that she wasn’t upset about losing her fiancés; it was about the loss of a possible marriage. She dreamed of the fairy tale so desperately she convinced herself any man would do.
She’d been fooling herself. No man would do. She wanted and needed Trent Kipson more than she needed to breathe.
***
Trent
“I’ve got an early start tomorrow, so I’m going to go.” Trent kissed Rayne lightly on the lips and watched her open the car door.
“Yeah. Me too. Thanks for today. I had a lot of fun.”
“And I believe you owe me dinner. I’ll call you this week and let you know what to shop for.” He winked and fled before he could say anything stupid. Way to kill the mood, Kipson. He’d hurt her with his words, that was obvious. Trent didn’t mean to. He’d just needed to be clear about their future. Ground things a bit before their relationship got out of control.
Hell, he lost control the day she came into the bakery and had her way with him. No, he lost it before then. When she stripped down to her turquoise bikini at the lake. No, before that. When he kissed her the first time, proving he wasn’t gay.
Shit. No, damn it. He lost it the second he walked into her studio and watched her shake her ass in unison with her chick music.
Now he had to figure out how to keep their relationship from worsening, from falling in any deeper. From hurting Rayne any more than he already had. Maybe it was time to end their sexual tryst and turn their relationship platonic again. But how the hell could he keep his hands off her? She drew him in with her laugh, her scent, her soft touch. No, he couldn’t quit cold turkey on her. He needed some distance from her and then things would go back to normal.
He’d call the Cooking Network and let them know he’d be moving to California earlier than expected. He needed time to find an apartment and get a lay of the land anyway. Three thousand miles should be enough to extinguish the flame and bring things back to normal.
But first, they’d have one more night of unbridled passion.
***
Rayne
“What? You can’t change the bet. You said no surprises.”
“The bet said the winner got to choose the when, where, and what, and the loser had to comply.”
Rayne tapped her fingers on her keyboard and sighed into the phone. “So tell me the new deal.” She saved the spreadsheet she was working on, closed her computer, and leaned back in her office chair.
“I’ll pick up the groceries, but you have to eat what I have planned. And how I’ve planned it.”
“Care to clarify?”
“Nope.”
It sounded like the old Trent was back and she trusted him completely. Too bad it took an entire week for him to call her and cash in on the bet. He texted her on Tuesday to say he’d been busy but would be in touch. Rayne assumed it was his way to end things, so she bought stock in Doritos and gained nearly five pounds in one week.
“Fine. But I refuse to eat anything disgusting.”
“Care to clarify?”
“Like snake or buffalo testicles or—”
“Ouch!” She could imagine Trent covering his crotch with his hands. “Trust me. Buffalo testicles are not on the menu. Who the hell eats those?”
“I saw it on a show this week.” Oops. She revealed too much of her hand. Trent knew she didn’t care for television, especially frivolous shows. But when the love of your life tells you he doesn’t want you to bear his children and that he has sex with other people, well, a girl tends to go a little crazy and binge watch stupid television.
“Just trust me on this one. I guarantee you’ll end up liking what I have in store for us.”
Us. Oh, that sounded good. “Okay then. When and where?”
“My place. Tonight. Six.”
She glanced at the clock on her wall. That only gave her four and a half hours to primp. “I’ll be there.” She didn’t mean for it to come out so throaty, and smirked when he cleared his throat and stammered out some gibberish before hanging up.
***
Trent
This night would either be the biggest mistake of his life or the cure for it. Hopefully, after the marathon sex that he had planned for them, he and Rayne would end their sexual relationship on mutual terms and continue their friendship. But he needed to carry out the fantasy he’d had for months, otherwise he’d always regret it.
Making sure everything was situated in his bedroom, Trent checked on the chocolate sauce that simmered on the stove and the fresh fruit in the fridge. Right on time, the doorbell rang.
He counted to ten and thought about the audit that was being done on Sweet Spot, on the lawyer jargon in his contract with the Cooking Network, and the transmission that probably needed replacing in his SUV.
Trent opened the door to a smiling goddess, and all his distracting thoughts fled and his shorts grew tight. “You look beautiful.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
Only Rayne Wilde could make a simple pair of khaki shorts and blue T-shirt look sexy. Maybe he could have toned it down a bit with “nice” instead. Hell, she had him in knots.
“Come in.” He backed away and ushered her in, her arm casually brushing up against his as she passed by.
She walked into the kitchen and looked around. “So, what’s on the menu?”
“You.”
***
Rayne
There were no smells emanating from the kitchen or makings of food on the counter. One small pot sat on the stove, but other than that, everything was neat and tidy. She felt his body press up against her back when he whispered in her ear, “You.”
Chills ran down her arms and to the tips of her toes. Trent wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, enjoying the brush of his lips on her ear. She felt the tug of her earlobe as he sucked on it and she swallowed. Hard.
“That’s…great for you, but…” She tried to form a complete sentence, heck, a complete thought, but his hands, moving up to cup her breasts, made it difficult for her to form words. “What am…I going to eat?”
Trent released her breasts from his hold, rubbed his hands down to her waist, and turned her a
round. “Sit,” he said as he lifted her onto the counter. This was definitely not what she expected, but she wasn’t going to complain. He walked to his stainless steel fridge and pulled out a tray of fresh fruit. She smiled, knowing he had made the platter with her in mind.
“This is surprising. I thought you only ate fruit if it was coated in a pound of sugar or topped on some decadent dessert.”
Trent raised his eyebrow and smirked. Her girly parts hummed with anticipation. He plucked a large, juicy strawberry from the plate and held it to her lips. She opened and bit into it, the juices spilling from her mouth. Rayne reached up to wipe her mouth, but he placed his hands over hers and leaned in, licking the juice from her chin.
“More,” she said breathlessly.
He held the strawberry to her lips, allowing her the rest. Slowly, he leaned in and kissed her, taking some of the juicy fruit with him. “So sweet,” he murmured into her mouth and pulled away before she could take the kiss any deeper.
Her mind raced with conflicting images from an angry and confused Trent to an erotic and attentive Trent. She thought their awkward moment in the woods put a kibosh to their sexual relationship—hence the Dorito-stained fingers and excess baggage on her ass—but she must have read him wrong.
Trent pulled out a stainless steel bowl from the fridge and lifted a layer of Saran wrap.
“That looks like a bowl full of sugar. You know I don’t like sweets—”
“Whipped cream. Open.”
She shook her head. No way was she going to consume any more unnecessary calories this week. Besides, the mound of cream didn’t excite her. But the emerald eyes sure did.
He dipped his finger through the frothy mixture. “Open,” he said again.
“I—” Trent slipped his cream-coated finger in her mouth and she instinctively sucked on it. It wasn’t the sweet cream that curled her toes but the salty, warm finger in her mouth that made her beg for more. She swirled her tongue and sucked. Hard.
Trent growled and pulled away, her lips smacking together when he left her.
“Damn, woman.”
Rayne ran two fingers through the whipped cream and reciprocated the action, holding the white confection to his lips. He kept his gaze on her eyes and teased her palm with his tongue, working his way across her hand and down the length of her pointer finger. He licked and loved, sending tingles and butterflies to her core. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “Oh, Trent.”
He played with her heartstrings, gently plucking one chord after the other, making a melody of music with her body. She felt the tug of his mouth all the way to her core. Rayne flexed her thighs and tried to relax, but he stirred so much desire in her.
He kept her fingers in his mouth as he scooted her closer to him and used his hands to wrap her legs around his body. Effortlessly, he picked her up, carried her to his bedroom, and set her down gently on his bed. “Don’t move.” He left and before she could register what was going on, he returned and set a bowl on the nightstand.
Trent lifted her shirt, exposing her belly, and reached over her body, bringing back with him a spoon full of…chocolate? He drizzled the warm liquid on her stomach, stared into her eyes, and opened his mouth to speak. Only no words came out. Instead, he lowered his head to her midsection and languidly licked the chocolate that pooled in her belly button and down her sides.
“You taste so good.”
Needing to lighten the mood before she hollered out her undying love to him, she laughed. “No, I think that’s your cooking.”
Trent lifted his gaze to her, resting most of his weight on his elbows at her side, and slid his hard body over hers. They stared at each other, and she swore she could see his soul. Yes, he cared about her. She could sense it in the intensity in his beautiful eyes, his touch, his taste. Only he was too stubborn to see it for himself. She smiled to herself and a sense of peace that she hadn’t felt since Trent came in and spun her out of control flowed through her from head to toe. Rayne’s body relaxed and succumbed to Trent and all he offered.
She didn’t worry about putting on a show or keeping things light and distant. Instead, her limbs loose and ready to be loved, she gave her heart over to Trent and let him have his way with her.
When he’d carried her into his room, she barely noticed the candles or the array of tiny dishes set up on a tray on the other side of the king-sized bed. He made quick work of stripping her of her top and bra and sampling the different sauces from her body.
“Mmm, my favorite is the strawberry sauce on your nipples.” He undid her zipper with his teeth and rubbed his hands down her calf. Trent’s mouth left a slippery trail down her stomach and nipped at her hip. Oh, the man was talented! Taking his time, he moved lower and lower until he kneeled by her feet. Picking one foot up and resting it on his shoulder, he reached over to the tray and dribbled something warm down her leg.
“Butterscotch. One of my other favorites.” The next few moments were pure orgasmic bliss as he licked the trail of sticky sweetness all the way to her core. He didn’t let her come up for air at all, claiming he needed to test and sample multiple combinations to find the perfect match.
And there were multiple, multiple combinations.
***
Trent
“My turn,” she said very breathlessly after her second orgasm. Trent tilted his head in confusion and she grinned. “You’re fully clothed, which is entirely unfair.”
His white shirt would be stained—hell if he’d ever find the solution to get strawberry, blackberry, or chocolate out—but it was worth it. Doing his damnedest to go slow had almost cost him. Twice he came close to exploding in his pants, trying to think about taxes and building repairs as a distraction while nestled between Rayne’s legs.
Once she got him naked, the show would be over. He’d give himself one minute, two tops before reaching pure ecstasy. Rayne reached for his zipper and he moaned. Or she did, he wasn’t sure and it didn’t matter. After all the noise she made, he was surprised she still had a voice.
Catching him distracted, she managed to flip him so he was on the bottom. Nice view. She straddled him, naked glory and all. Reaching across him for one of the sauces, she teased him, brushing her nipple across his cheek. He reached for her and she swatted his hand away. “Uh, uh. My turn. You didn’t let me touch. Fair’s fair.”
“Yeah, but this is my menu. I don’t remember being on it.”
“Be nice and share.” She reached for the blackberry vodka sauce and dribbled it from his chin to his…oh. Not quite where he wanted her mouth, but sure as hell close. Leaning over his body, careful not to come in contact with his penis or his sauce-laden chest, she licked from his abs to his chin, stopping just below his lip. He begged her to go an inch higher. She stopped, a devilish grin on her lips that he wanted to lick off, and retreated, making another lap with her tongue.
“Rayne,” he growled.
He felt her body shake with laughter as she reversed her path and licked from his chest down to his navel and—“Don’t stop. God, woman, don’t stop.” But she did. “I can’t—”
“Shh. Don’t be such a wimp. Maybe we can make a bet. How long do you think—”
He couldn’t take anymore. He flipped her over, somehow managed to slide on a condom, and plunged into her over and over until he saw stars, and fell over the edge.
Still, he didn’t dare read this sexual fantasy as a sign of love and devotion. Pure, raw sex. That’s all it was.
***
Rayne
Holy mother of all that is beautiful. Rayne nearly wept as Trent held her in his arms, both their hearts still beating erratically. This was definitely not what she expected when he said he’d plan the menu. If this was what it felt like to lose a bet, she’d come in last over and over again.
Everything had changed. They were no longer great friends who enjoyed sex. They were great friends who knocked the house down with hungry, passionate lovemaking that could not be experienced by two
people who didn’t love and respect one another.
Still, she didn’t plan on pressing her luck and scaring Trent away. She could feel him relax but knew he’d tense up if she suggested anything more emotional. Reluctantly she slipped from the warmth of his body.
“Hey, get back here.” He reached for her hand but she was too quick.
“I’m a little sticky. I’m going to shower off real quick and head out.”
“Need any help?”
“I’m good.”
Ignoring his plea to stay, she gathered up her clothes and rushed off to his bathroom. If he surprised her in the shower she didn’t think she’d be able to stay strong and leave. Thankfully—and regretfully—he left her alone.
Not wanting to linger, Rayne toweled off, quickly dressed, and pasted on a perky smile. Trent had already pulled on his shorts but his torso was still bare. Dark purple stains speckled his ripped abs where she missed some sauce. Tearing her eyes away from his sweet spot, she chimed, “Hate to eat and run, but I have back to back to back classes in the morning.” She planted a chaste kiss on his lips and pulled away. “Dinner was…amazing. You can cook for me anytime.” She winked and turned away before she lost her strength to leave.
Ball’s in your court once again, stud muffin.
Chapter Twelve
Trent
Trent Kipson didn’t crawl after any woman.
Ever.
Until now. He was willing to break the mother of all his rules and let Rayne spend the night in his bed. But she left him. She. Left. Him. The woman who fell hopelessly in love with dumbass after dumbass and agreed to marry any man who asked, turned down Maine’s Bachelor of the Year. Well, she didn’t exactly turn him down.
Stripping the stained sheets from his bed, Trent smiled at the memory of Rayne’s face when he coated her with his sauces. Yeah, he had a shitload of a mess to clean up—literally and figuratively—but it was sure the hell worth it.
Sweet on You (The Wilde Sisters #1) Page 13
