by Ellis Marie
God, he knows what he’s doing.
“As much as I enjoyed it though.” His fingers pause. “I do believe it’s now my turn, mia dea.”
I barely have time to breathe before my legs buckle at his touch, his finger finding the exact spot that has been aching. His other hand grabs onto my front, twirling expertly while I try to stand straight, my writhing body struggling to obey.
“This, my love, is what I’ve dreamed about since I met you.” His voice is so low that I can almost feel it shaking my core, the sensation combined with his talented fingers causing white spots to appear in my vision.
“It’s like your body is calling out to me,” he grunts, sliding his hand further. “Begging me.”
I understand now. I know why he unravelled so quickly, why it seemed impossible for him to move.
This is magic. It has to be.
I feel like I’m rising, lifting above everything that I know and being brought to a new level of pleasure, one which I didn’t even know the existence of up until now.
The circling motion speeds up, the friction it’s causing like lightning. I reach my hand back, anchoring itself around Trent’s neck as I lift my head.
I see him, his golden eyes coming into view above me as his hand stretches over my front, watching how his actions affect me. His lips press to mine softly, so tender in comparison to the roughness of his voice. I cover his hand with my own, relying on him to hold me. My body is a swirl of emotions as we kiss, the needy heat burning me from below, but my heart swells with every glimpse of his caring expression.
A mewl echoes from my throat as I surrender to the feelings enveloping me, the sound causing Trent’s hold to tighten as he breaks our lips apart. His eyes are like fire that don’t stray from my contorted expression.
“Don’t be shy,” he coaxes with words like butter. “Let me hear you, mon ange.”
I gasp, my toes lifting off the ground as Trent takes my weight. I curl my fingers so tight that I know they’re embedding themselves into his skin.
“That’s it,” he beckons, our lips frantically finding each other over my shoulder as my legs begin to shake. “Let go.” He doesn’t say it like an order, more a promise, but my body obeys almost instantly.
My back arches as I scream inaudibly. The only sound is the pounding inside of my head. Trent’s voice coaxes me, and my world shatters with his whispers in my ear, endearing phrases slipping in as my feet slide out. He turns me around, locking me in place as I reach for him, my arms like jelly. Our mouths find each other as if they belong.
The aftermath continues to pulse, my thoughts swimming with how incredible the moment had been.
What exactly am I in for?
The water is switched off from behind me. My damp hair clings to my neck as I try to catch my breath. Kisses are littered across my forehead and into my scalp, words of praise and adoration tumbling together while I rest against his chest.
As my head begins to come back down from the clouds, I feel Trent shifting around. Only one of his arms is now holding me as he shuffles us slightly. Before I know it, there’s a softness being wrapped around me—warm and fuzzy.
“I hope this towel’s clean,” I joke, my voice sounding weak. His chest moves with his low chuckle as he makes sure it’s secure. “If this is Cole’s, then I’m not going to be impressed.”
Opening my eyes, I’m met with the glorious sight of his naked body as droplets of water from the shower drips down the lines of his muscles like they’ve been painted on.
“No, Moya Solnishka. I got these especially for you.” He turns to grab another towel, moving away from me. I avert my eyes, my mind catching up to the fact that he is completely naked right now.
Are you seriously getting embarrassed by his naked butt when you literally just had your hands down his—
I cough and shake the thought from my head. My legs are barely holding me up, let alone ready to go again. Trent seems to agree, his own towel appearing around his waist.
“Come on,” he says softly, his hand waiting for me to take. “The bed is much comfier than the shower. I promise.”
It’s comical that we had entered the bathroom in the complete role reversal, and now, Trent is looking after me.
He’s always looking after me.
“Two seconds,” he mumbles with a swift kiss to my forehead, but I barely register it. My eyes have started to blink slower, and my head is still coming around to what has just happened.
He’s the first person to ever touch me apart from . . . well, apart from the worst person I know. I have never been like that with him. I’ve never taken control or felt comfortable enough to do anything so forward.
I never felt that feeling of weightlessness or freedom. All I ever felt is pain and the force of pleasing the other person.
Where did that come from?
“Here.” Trent presents me with a pile of clothes, his hand awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as he does. “You can pick what you like. If you want something from your room, then I can go across and get it.”
“This is perfect.” I smile, holding up a soft-looking T-shirt. “Thank you.”
There’s a pause for a moment as my hands touch the opening of the towel, my gaze flickering to Trent as I begin to undo it.
Is it silly that I feel shy getting changed?
As always, it’s as if Trent can hear me. Before I can swallow my fear, he turns around with a mumble and walks into his cupboard, stopping me from having to say anything.
I quickly slip the T-shirt on, my senses humming with happiness as Trent’s scent drifts over me, only adding to the peaceful feeling that’s settled in my core.
“I’m changed,” I call softly once I’ve pulled on the boxers, bringing the towel up to my hair as I wait for him to reenter. When he does, it’s cautious, his eyes surveying the room before he reveals his body . . . or well, barely clothed body. All he’s wearing is boxers like mine.
“I can put more clothes on if—”
“It’s fine,” I assure, blushing as my eyes try not to trail down his body. “I don’t mind.”
He nods and clears his throat, dropping the clothes from before into the basket in the corner of his room. I continue to rub my hair, settling onto the side of his bed that seems to be untouched.
“What’s in there?” I ask, motioning to the door that’s on the opposite wall. “A secret lair?”
He sits down on the bed beside me, the smirk on his lips hiding something behind it. “Something like that.” His eyes move from it and back onto me, his gaze radiating such love that I have to look away from him. My heart can barely take it.
It’s silent as I brush my fingers through my hair and then plait it, my arms too tired to continue drying it. I can feel him watching me the entire time, his body barely moving but his eyes following me wordlessly.
“What?” I ask finally, turning to him with a nervous laugh. It’s not that his gaze has unsettled me, but rather that it makes me aware of how exposed I am. I have no idea what I look like right now or what he’s staring at.
“I’ve just never seen you look so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice soothing my nerves. “You just seem to astonish me more with every passing day.”
Oh, f*cking swoon.
I scoff slightly, unable to hide the flushing of my cheeks as I do. I quickly throw the damp towel at him, trying to deflect his words that make my soul cry out in happiness.
He’s quick to catch it, throwing it off to one side as his grin reappears right beside me, his eyes zoning in on the redness creeping up my features.
“So me telling you that you look beautiful is too much for you, but when you accost me in the bathroom and stick your hand down my—”
I squeal and throw my hands over his mouth, my body knocking his back onto the bed as I beg him to shut up. Embarrassment fills me as he laughs and continues trying to speak.
“Stop! Stop!” I order, trying to seem stern but not managing due to the ever
-growing grin gracing my face. “That’s not funny!”
“Okay, okay!” He laughs, wrapping his arms around my waist as he pulls me onto the mattress and swaps our positions. “I surrender, I surrender!”
I stop my pathetic attempts of hitting his body and let him move over me, our chuckles ebbing out slowly. He softly raises his hand and strokes my cheek, causing my heart to leap.
In the warm light of the bedside lamp, his entire being seems to be glowing. A soft and shimmering aura that only adds to the beauty of him. As he looks up at me from his long lashes, my hand gently reaches out to trace his jaw. I can’t help but smile as my finger scratches along the slight stubble making its way through his skin.
He’s so perfect, but also so . . . imperfect.
I don’t know who leans into who. It’s like both of our bodies are magnets being pulled into each other, only satisfied when there’s no space between them.
The kiss is soft and gentle, inviting but not pressured. Even though we are lying on a bed, wearing barely any clothing, and closer than we ever have been before, he still isn’t trying to sleep with me. It’s definitely refreshing.
He breaks the kiss too soon, a sigh leaving his lips as he moves off me. He takes his spot right next to me instead. A small flicker of disappointment resonates through me.
“I find it utterly adorable that you’re trying to not scare me,” I tease softly, twisting to my side to look at his confused face. “But is there any other reason that you’re not trying to take things further? You can tell me if there is.”
His eyes almost pop open at my words, hands throwing themselves upwards in a display of innocence.
“Oh goddess, no. There is zero part of me that doesn’t want to . . . y’know.” He shakes his head, wincing at his awkward terminology. I snort at his eyes squeezing shut. “But it’s late and I don’t think that I’ll be able to stop once we start, not for a while anyway.”
The gulp that leaves my throat is obnoxiously audible. My toes curl at the images that flash through my mind, my body preparing to reheat with just a single word, but I push it down, aware of the hesitance that he’s projecting.
“That’s . . .” I clear my throat. “That’s a fair shout.”
“Plusss . . .” he drags out, stretching his arm over to me and settling on my hip. “I figured you’d want a good night’s sleep before your first day back at school.”
I’m so busy trying to calm my body down in response to his arm wrapping around me that it takes a moment for my brain to catch up with him and actually hear the words that he’s spoken.
Back to school?
“You’re serious?” I gasp, my hands landing on his torso and my legs scooting me closer without permission. “I can go back?”
His smile is small as he brushes a hand over my hair, his fingers playing with the tail end of the plait.
“I once promised you that you would never have to be under the control of someone ever again,” he begins with a resolute tone to his voice. “I’ve been so worried about keeping you safe that I forgot that that promise includes me. I shouldn’t be stopping you from living just because I’m scared, that’s not fair. And I’m sorry that I’ve been a bit overbearing with it.”
Going from someone who constantly controlled my every move, who refused to let me make my own decisions and used the excuse of caring too much for a reason to hurt me . . . to Trent? Well, the way his words make me feel are indescribable.
“Thank you,” I whisper, sliding my hands around his midriff, slinking into place so easily that it’s as if they’ve done it a thousand times before. His own follow suit, wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me into him as he lies onto his back.
I fit perfectly into the space, like it’s made for me.
“You don’t need to thank me,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss into my hair. “I was being an idiot. I just don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, not after everything.”
A couple of weeks ago, I would have laughed at the statement. I would have wondered what kind of person finds a love that pure and full that they can’t imagine going on without their other half, but now? Now, I’m beginning to understand it.
“I’ll be alright.” My fingers draw circles in the hair on his chest. “I know you can protect me and it’s not as if we’re alone. If you can’t be somewhere, then I know I have Cole and Scarlette looking out for me too. Plus most of the pack is close by too.”
And Cam, although, I doubt that would go over well.
“Speaking of Scarlette.” Trent’s tone catches my attention. I look up at him to see his gaze filled with curiosity. “She said to tell you that she has clothes for school tomorrow. She had a feeling that you might want to borrow some.”
I’m grateful that she hasn’t outrightly told him that I can’t afford to buy clothes and that most of the stuff that I do have with me is tainted with memories that I would rather forget. It’s embarrassing enough that she and Kristie know; I couldn’t bear to have everyone feeling sorry for me.
Trent knows that there’s more to it than wanting a change, his eyes constantly feel as though they’re digging into my secrets that I’m ashamed of. However, he doesn’t say anything and lets it slide, his face turning upwards once more as it falls back onto his pillow.
“I appreciate that,” I answer with a yawn, settling back against his chest as my body relaxes. Trent draws shapes on my back with a featherlight skim. “I’ll go to her room in the morning with Kristie.”
Whether it’s the calm that I feel at Trent’s touch or the events of today finally catching up with me, my eyes begin to droop and my mind jumbles its thoughts. The steady beating of his heart lulling me into a fog of unconsciousness. I feel Trent move slightly from under me, and there’s a quiet click as the room is thrown into darkness.
It looks strikingly like the back of my eyelids.
“Sleep, my angel,” he whispers, his lips brushing my forehead. “I’ll wake you in the morning.”
A part of me wants to stay awake, to keep talking to Trent, and to bask in this safe feeling that his arms have given me, that his voice pulls me into, but it’s a losing battle. My limbs don’t listen to me as they shut down and my dreams begin to flow into my subconscious, whisking me away from reality.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m in Trent’s arms or because, for the first time tonight, I’ve let someone into my most private parts without fear that they’ll hurt me, but I don’t have a nightmare. There are no snarling voices or hands reaching out to tear away my happiness. I don’t wake up screaming or with tears streaming down my face.
No. I sleep soundly—the deepest sleep that I have had in a long time.
And I know it’s because of Trent.
God, I love him.
But I still dream. It’s like a broken jigsaw puzzle, quick flashes of colour and a faint scent wafting through the air. The more I seem to look, the more it changes shape.
There’s a cool breeze brushing past my legs and the sun is barely peeking out of the horizon—that much I can tell. A humming accompanies it; at first, I think it’s water rushing down a waterfall—steady, constant.
But when I focus, I can just make out the gentle drill to it and the frequency changes dotting from low to high. It’s almost like electricity.
I’m not scared. For some reason, I . . . I don’t feel anything.
From the blurred pieces, a figure emerges—pale, glowing.
Is it my mother? My grandmother?
All at once, the breath between us feels like a step but also a mile, my head trying to drag up some sort of recognition. It stays like that all night.
My fingertips seem to brush the answer with every inhale that I take, but it’s peaceful. Like perhaps, I’m not meant to know the answers for now, and I’m okay with it.
For some reason, the limbo dream that I have fallen into is like a lullaby—comforting and melodic.
Nothing to be afraid of.
Well, n
ot yet, anyway.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
My heart thumps against my chest, my mind whirling with ideas of what could go wrong and what might be waiting for me on the other side of those doors.
Are people going to stare? Are they going to ask questions? Is it safe?
I don’t know if I can do it.
“Do you think we look like the Kardashians pulling up in these cars? I hope we do because I feel so boujee.”
My internal monologue of ever-impending doom-filled thoughts is interrupted as I turn to look at my best friend, already shaking my head as I see her face pressed up to the glass of the window, my laughter barely being held. It seems like everyone in the car does the same thing, silence spilling as we wait for the brunette girl to look at us.
Of course, while I’m sitting here questioning if I’m about to be murdered in my maths class, Kristie is thinking about how cool we look arriving in Trent’s car. She’s nothing if not consistent.
It takes a moment, but when she finally turns around, she glances between us all in confusion.
“What?”
“I’m so happy that you’re my best friend.” I grin, pinching her cheek, my nerves dulling at the distraction.
Kristie repeats her question, her chin jutted out and hands up in the air as she waits for us to explain what’s funny.
“Did your village not miss you last night?” Cole asks her as he leans onto the armrest of the chair, furrowing his brows in concern.
“My village?” Kristie responds, wrinkling her nose at the question. “I don’t really think they noticed. Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” He shrugs, turning back from her casually, but I don’t miss the wicked grin he sends to Trent as he reaches for the door. “I just figured they’d realise that they lost their idiot.”
He’s out the door by the last syllable, the bang of it as it shuts indicates that he expects her to retaliate in some shape or form, but my poor best friend just sits beside me, the wheels in her head still turning as she tries to figure out his comment.
