My mouth opens and shuts.
“You were in the room the whole time?”
“Yep.” He smiles. “FYI, you talk in your sleep.”
“I do not.”
“Okay, sure, princess.”
Maybe I do, and by the way he’s grinning, it can’t be a good thing.
There is no way I’m going to get him out of this room. I let out a deep, audible, dramatic sigh.
“It’s really not that bad, Payton.”
“Which part?” I lift a brow. “The part where you spy on me when I sleep? Or the part where I can’t actually do anything to get you outta here?”
“The latter.” He kicks one foot on top of the other, getting way too relaxed for his own good. “Think of it this way. For the night, you have a personal butler. If you want a drink, I’ll get it for you. You need help getting up? I’ll help you.” He says it like he just offered me the best gift in the world.
“How about you go down the block and get someone else to watch me?” I grumble.
“That’s not going to happen, princess.” He shakes his head. “But if you keep playing your cards right, maybe I’ll ask your sister.” He lifts a challenging brow.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Yet . . . I think I would.”
That is all he has to say for me to fall in line.
Point to you, Trent.
In the morning, I awake to the sight of Trent sitting on the side of my bed. Just looking at me with concern on his face.
“Good morning, princess.”
Normally, the moniker bothers me.
But today, when he says it without venom, when he uses that deep rumble of his morning voice, I want to melt.
Wow.
What changed since the accident?
Maybe that concussion did something.
“Morning. Did you get much sleep in the chair?” I ask him.
“It was fine once I got used to the snoring.”
My mouth drops a little. “You woke yourself up with your own snoring?”
“No, silly, yours woke me up,” he says with the devilish look back on his face, mischievous eyes matching it.
I sit up in the bed to smack him, but as I reach forward, the movement pulls on my sore ribs, and I wince. Trent reaches forward to grab my shoulders and help me sit up.
“Thanks.”
His face is only inches away.
I can’t help but look at those lips.
Lips I want to kiss again.
He shifts and stands fully off the bed, one arm around my back to hold me upright. His other hand works to rearrange the pillows until I’m supported again.
“There. That should help. Sorry.” He pats at the pillow. “I didn’t mean to make you reach and hurt more.”
The furrow is back on his forehead again. He looks worried; the concern creeping back into the space between us.
I reach up and touch his arm.
“It’s okay. I just forget I can’t move like I want to sometimes. This is still all a little new, right?”
So is him taking care of me.
But it feels good. Better than it should.
Trent’s eyes bore into me. I take in the emotions shining from them. Determination. Sorrow. And something more tender.
He cares.
Or is it just guilt?
As if he can read my mind, he says, “I’m truly sorry for all this. It’s my fault. If I would have just left you in your rental house, if I would have just talked to Ivy in the first place and left you alone, none of this would have happened.”
“But it did, and we can’t take it back.”
“What if I want to?” he says, sitting back on the edge of the bed. He reaches out and touches my cheek with the slightest of pressure. “What if we start a different path?”
I can feel it.
The swirl of desire building between us.
Intensifying when we touch.
“You never know until you take that first step,” I whisper.
Trent reaches forward, arching toward me.
I can feel his warmth.
Feel his breath as his lips close the distance to mine yet again.
I close my eyes.
I want to savor this moment . . .
His phone rings.
38
Trent
* * *
I’m not sure whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but my phone rings.
Payton’s eyes pop open.
Again, I get lost in Payton.
I want to kiss her.
Pull her close and erase all the shit from the past.
Even the last kiss, because when that happened, I pulled myself away. Hatred rushed at me like a giant tsunami. Sudden, brutal, and disastrous. I’d gotten lost in the moment. Blind to anything but Payton.
My own personal tunnel vision.
All I could see was red where she was concerned. My anger channeled straight into her.
This moment would have been different. There was no anger as I held her in my arms last night. Just a desperate desire to protect her better.
Softer, gentler kisses.
Not just because of her pain. Because I want to show that side to her. Show her the man I think I could be for her.