Ten Tiny Breaths (Ten Tiny Breaths #1)

A loud chorus of snickers and laughter erupts. They all knew he was playing me. How did they all know and I have no clue? Probably because I’m too busy drooling over his body to notice his practiced movements. Suddenly feeling the fool, I give the bag a soft kick. Okay, maybe not so soft. It flies back under the impact and hits Trent, eliciting a low grunt as he stumbles backward and hunches over, balancing himself with his hands just above his knees.

“I thought you knew how to hold a bag?” I murmur, walking over. I get no answer. With a bit of hesitation, I rest my hand on his back as I bite my lip. “You okay?”

“Kace! You really have a thing against balls, don’t you!” Ben hollers through cupped hands so the entire place can hear.

I flush, shooting daggers at Ben as I apologize to Trent. “Shit, I’m sorry. I figured I’d get your shoulder.”

He cranes his neck to look up at me while still hunched over. “If you’re not interested in me, just tell me. You don’t have to ruin me for all women.”

“I’m more about action than words.” I’m glad he’s making jokes, but I still wince. I drop to a crouch in front of Trent and ask in a low voice, “Are you okay? Seriously?”

“Yeah, I’ll live. And by live, I mean curl up in the fetal position on my couch with a bag of ice on my nuts for the rest of the night.”

“I’ll hold the ice,” I offer in a soft whisper.

When he turns his head, I see fire alight in his eyes, and I can’t help but smile at his own frustration, which must match mine. The smile is quickly followed by a wince. “Just give me a minute. I’ll be over there, healing.”

Trent stays leaned against the wall, protecting his injured body parts while watching me run through a full set of kicks and punches, not fully into it. As I’m finishing, I sense him approach behind me. I squeal in surprise as he grips either side of my hips, pulling me back into him, into all of him. “When you said hold the ice …”

“I thought you were near death over there,” I answer, breathless. “That doesn’t feel fatal.”



“I was, but you are one hot chick when you pound on the right bag.” He jerks me back against him hard and I yelp. Not in pain. No, definitely not pain.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to take it slow?” I remind him.

He chuckles darkly. “Yeah, and I also said I have a hard time doing that when you’re around.” He leans forward and whispers in my ear, “So what do you say? I’m ready to go a few more rounds with you.”

Nothing but a strangled sound escapes my lips. I don’t know where this side of Trent is coming from. It has to be all the testosterone in the air. Or maybe this is the real Trent and he’s been adept at restraining himself. Or it’s his way of claiming his territory as the flock of guys watch me intermittently, including Ben. Whatever it is, I’d willingly hand over full possession of my body to this Trent to do with what he will.

I swallow, trying to focus on the bag of sand taunting me as all that bottled up fighting anger deflates and a new emotion rises. Desire. Raw, uninhibited desire for Trent. I’m two seconds from dragging him into the women’s locker room and ripping that shirt off. Hell, I’m ready to take him right here, on the pad, spectators be damned.

His hands slide from my hips, but not before one hand squeezes my ass and then he strolls over to take his position on the other side of the bag. His dark gaze leaves me unnerved. “Okay. I’m ready for you this time.”

***

Trent hands my phone back to me with his number programmed into it as we stand in front of my apartment again, the sun’s afternoon rays beating down on us. Whatever heat scorched the air back at the gym has evaporated with a mysterious phone call on our way out of the gym. Fun, forceful Trent is gone. This Trent looks agitated and distracted. I soon learn why.

“I’ve gotta head out tonight, Kace. Work and mom stuff. I don’t have a choice. If I don’t show up, she’ll know I’m not in New York.” His voice fades away and I catch his eyes widen momentarily, as if surprised. Why would that matter? He rushes on. “I’ll be gone until Friday, but you’ll hear from me, okay?”

I nod, hoping for another one of his blazing kisses. That or for him to throw me over his shoulder caveman style and carry me to his bed. Either one would work. But I get a peck on my forehead instead. With a lazy salute and a frown, he spins on his heels and takes off for his apartment.





Chapter Ten





Serve drinks.

Smile.

Take money.

I repeat that mantra all night at Penny’s. The place is as packed and sordid as ever and yet it feels empty and boring without Trent there.

It isn’t until I’m back home at three a.m. that my phone vibrates in my pocket, sending a thrill through my body. There’re only two people who could be calling and one of them is unconscious next door.

Trent: In New York. Surrounded by sky scrapers. Miss you. How was your night?

My heart surges with joy as I type back.

Me: Full of bare flesh and indecent propositions.

I can’t bring myself to add that last little piece. That I miss him like crazy. That I can’t believe I’ve wasted weeks keeping him away.

A full minute later.

Trent: Was any of that bare flesh yours?

Me: Not yet.

I crawl into bed and rest my phone on my chest, waiting for his response. It’s a while before I get one.

Trent: A cold shower is calling. Sweet dreams. Good night. xox

I cover my mouth as I laugh out loud, afraid I’ll wake Livie or Mia up, who’s staying at our place with Livie tonight. Setting my phone onto my nightstand, it’s a while before I fall asleep.

***

Three days without Trent is unpredictably tough. We exchange a few messages in the late evenings. Whatever work and family stuff he’s doing during the day must keep him busy because the texts don’t start coming until after midnight. When they do, when I feel the vibration in my pocket, it’s like Christmas has come.

They’re all fairly innocuous, “Hi, how are you?” and “I miss you,” and “Bagged any guys at the gym, lately?” messages. Several times, I catch myself typing something a little more provocative only to delete it before hitting ‘send.’ Something tells me it’s too soon for sexts, especially given we haven’t gotten past first base.

God, I can’t wait until we get past first base.

***

Trent comes back today. That’s the first thought that comes to my mind when I wake up on Friday. Not carnage, not blood, not the miserable scraps left of my life. For once, the first thought that comes to my mind is the future and what it may bring.

For such a perfect wake up, the day sure ends like shit.

I have no idea what time Trent’s arriving into Miami. I’ve sent a few messages to him to find out, but I haven’t heard back. It’s making me incredibly anxious. Awful visuals of planes crashing plague my thoughts all day and into my shift at Penny’s.

So when Nate tugs me from the bar and into the back office where Cain holds a phone up for me, my stomach plummets to the ground. “It’s urgent,” is all he says, his brows pulled together tightly. I stand and stare at Cain and the black receiver for a long moment, unable to bring myself to face it. It isn't until I hear a child’s cry on the other end that I snap out of my daze and grab it from his hands. “Hello?” My voice wobbles.

“Kacey! I tried your cell but you didn’t answer!” I can barely understand Livie between her sobs and Mia’s wails. “Please come home! Some crazy man is trying to break down the door! He’s screaming Mia’s name! I think he’s on drugs. I called the police!” That’s all I get out of her. That’s all I need. “Lock yourselves in the bathroom. I’m coming Livie. Stay there!” I hang up the phone. My words tumble out in short, clipped fragments and they don’t sound like me. To Cain I say, “There’s an emergency. It’s Mia. Storm’s Mia. And my sister.”