“Yes,” I whispered.
“I’ll be honest,” Trev said. “You shouldn’t be living right now. The message back to your friends should be your body. But since Trent put up a hell of a fight for your safety and my assumption you’ll do what is needed, I’m going to compromise.” Trev looked at Trent. “I want you both out of here. Take her to your place. Let Duke drink it off and we’ll catch up tomorrow.”
“That’s smart,” Trent said. “If Rocco plans an attack, he’ll come here looking for her.”
“I’ll have prospects watch you,” Jasper said.
“I don’t need fucking protection,” Trent said.
“Yes you do,” Trev said. “Now get your shit and get out of here.”
Trev and Jasper walked toward the door.
I called out, “Thank you.”
Trev stopped and looked back. “Don’t thank me. Thank Trent. Know that right now your ultimate fate is to die. You have no idea the war you’ve stepped into.”
They left the room and Trent crouched down in front of me.
“We better get out of here,” he said.
“This isn’t fair to you. This is your clubhouse. It’s where you’re safe. I’ll just go. Or just let them kill me. It’s probably better off that way.”
Trent’s hand shot out and touched my cheek. “No, darling, it’s not better off that way. I need to get out of here anyway. If Duke and I go eye to eye again, one of us is going to end up dead.”
“So you really are a monster, huh?” I asked, forcing myself to grin, to lessen the tension.
Trent stood up and looked eighty feet tall. But his sexy eyes seemed like they were inches from my face.
Then he spoke.
“Darling… we’re all monsters.”
**
Trent’s place was pretty surprising for a bad ass biker guy. It was clean, put together, yet it had a little bit of a tough manly smell to it. He shut the door and locked all three locks on the door.
“Stay away from the windows,” he said, “Just in case we get attacked.”
How soothing.
He tossed my bag onto the table and then opened the fridge and offered me a beer. I took it, figuring a beer or ten couldn’t hurt anything.
“I brought us a drink back at the clubhouse but that got all messed up.”
“What’s with Duke?” I asked. “I mean, I know he was mad about me…”
“He did two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. When he saw the towers fall he was riding with his first outlaw club. It wasn’t the life he wanted so he went to fight a greater enemy. He was never the same again. That’s all I’m going to say.”
I swallowed a lump of guilt. I had come that close to killing a man who had been fighting for my freedom? A man who returned to his country confused, hurt, and wanting the life of freedom and fighting enemies.
I drank half the beer in silence and then grabbed my bag. “Do you mind if I take a shower?”
“Down the hall, second door on the right,” Trent said.
Then he turned around. It looked like he was in pain or just angry about something.
I walked down the hall and entered the bathroom. I shut the door and locked it. Looking in the mirror, I looked like eight shades of hell had washed over my face. I was still in those tight, stupid clothes from the gambling thing. I grabbed for the bottom of my shirt and lifted it over my head. It felt so good to get that shirt off. Next came the pants. I had to wiggle and wrestle out of them they were so freaking tight to my body. I slipped out of my panties and then reached back and unsnapped my bra. I was then naked, in Trent’s bathroom.
I sidestepped and turned on the water. Bending slightly, I looked at my full breasts as they just dangled there in front of me. When the water got hot, I turned on the shower and started to step inside. Then I stopped and glanced back to the bathroom door. My mind started to race. I had dueling voices messing with me. Before I could reason with myself, I walked to the door and slowly unlocked it.
Just in case Trent wanted to come in.
By the time I got into the shower, I was fully turned on. To the point where my nipples were hard and sensitive. Each time the hot water hit my chest, I would wiggle a little, trying to calm myself. My thighs ached a little and I wasn’t wet just because of the shower water. There was something else there, waiting for Trent.
What is wrong with you? He’s a killer. He’s called the monster.
I couldn’t help myself.
He had saved me and protected me. Hell, even tied to a chair with my life in the balance, Trent had done more for me than Daxton ever did. And before Daxton, my last boyfriend… let’s not go there.
I stepped into the water even more and let it rush against my face. My hands touched my sides and ran down my body. All I could feel were flaws.
All I wanted to feel was Trent’s hands on me.
eleven.
(trent)