you babysit me,” I added, staring at his lips, knowing how soft they’d be on mine, how cool the air would feel on my mouth when we parted.
“Mmmm,” he said again, but it was a different sound, and his grip on my waist had tightened into a hint of possessiveness. I liked it. Eyes shiny with daring, he leaned in. God, we were out on the street, where anyone could see, and though I didn’t care if our picture landed on the front page of the Hollows Gazette above a tawdry tagline, Quen would have a hissy.
But even as I leaned in, breath held and anticipation simmering, he froze.
“What?” I said, the scent of cinnamon and ozone plucking something deep in me.
“Um, the car is here,” he said.
I froze as I suddenly realized that yes, a black car had pulled up, idling patiently as it spewed hot exhaust to warm my ankles. Of course it is. My grip on him tightened, and after a shared flash of annoyance, Trent let go, his fingers reluctantly leaving me with a wash of tingles.
Frustrated, I slumped against the wall as Trent opened the door and, after a brief word with the driver, shifted so I could get in first. “Jenks!” I called as I rolled down the window, and he zipped in with the scent of dead geraniums, immediately going up front to talk to the driver.
Over the past months, Trent’s natural reserve in public had gratifyingly thawed, but full-mouth kissing on Central Parkway was probably too big a stretch. No matter. I’d found the more reserved he was in public, the more tactile and aggressive he was when alone, and I smiled, willing to wait. Besides, it was just Trent and me in the back now, and I settled against him, content as he held my hand and drew communication glyphs one by one in my palm as we drove away.
Sure, I’d blown his gentleman’s agreement with Landon all to hell, but an uneasy truth was better than a beautiful lie, especially when that lie had Trent looking like a callous, power-hungry dictator in the making. I didn’t like that half of Cincinnati thought he was, thanks to Landon.
But then again, he’d been one when I’d first met him.
CHAPTER
9
I smiled, not fully awake when Trent carefully rolled from where he’d been spooned up behind me. Cold replaced warmth, and then a soft tug of the blanket being snuggled in behind me. It was a familiar pattern, and I dozed at the almost unheard sounds of him getting ready for the day: the click of the bathroom door closing, the tap of his razor, the hum of his toothbrush.
It was the rasp of dog nails that woke me when Buddy nosed the bedroom door open and went to sit before the bathroom, tail swishing. We both heard the snap of the light going off, and I smiled when Trent came out and gave the dog a soft greeting. “What time is it?” I whispered, and the dark shadow headed for the main room hesitated and came back.
“I didn’t want to wake you.” Trent knelt to put his eyes level with me. His hand found mine, and he brushed the hair from my eyes before giving me a kiss. “It’s early. Go back to sleep.”
“It’s our weekend,” I said, and Buddy whined. He smelled of outside, evidence of Jon taking care of him, but it was Trent the raggedy fifteen-pound dog looked to.
“It’s six in the morning,” Trent countered, and I groaned, not wanting to start my day at such an ungodly time. Trent had delayed his usual midnight nappies to go to bed with me around one in the morning. It was a little early for me, a little late for Trent. He’d been stretching his schedule, and I’d been tweaking mine, until now there were just a few hours where they didn’t mesh. But that was okay, seeing as we both needed time alone to feel balanced. Mine was around noon, and his was at six in the morning.
“I’m going to go over the public reaction to you calling Landon a liar,” he said, and my eyes closed. “I’ll be done by the time you get up.” I smiled, eyes closed when he kissed me again. “And then my day is yours.”
My hand tightened on his. “I’m sorry about that,” I said, and his motion to rise halted.
“No, it was a good thing. I couldn’t take it any longer. Go to sleep.”