The shower is hot even though I’ve been standing in it for three times longer than I normally do. I’ve already washed my hair and done a quick shave. I’ve lathered my face and I’m so distracted this morning, my thoughts firmly camping out in what it was like to be with Trey last night, I might have washed it twice already. But I can’t bring myself to step out of the enormous shower with two different heads, one a waterfall that falls gently from above me and another that is blasting my shoulders.
If only I could move it to massage the aches out of my hips and thighs from last night’s erotic adventures I’d be an even happier girl.
Yet I’m warm here, comfortable, able to try to figure out what in the heck I do now.
When I finally agreed to spend the weekend with Trey it seemed so simple. Have some fun, enjoy myself, take a break before returning to the shitstorm of my life. Maybe find some stress relief doing exactly what Trey and I had spent hours doing last night. But there’s a hitch in my plan I didn’t expect.
I’m falling for him. From the moment he first stepped into Java Joe’s, Trey has been the kind of guy I’ve always imagined myself falling in love with. Good-looking, with his square jaw and muscled body, but kind eyes and a big heart. He’s consistently shown me he’s a damn good guy with equally impressive friends.
So how do I leave him tomorrow when it’s time to return to life as it was—me slinging his drinks, him counting his millions high above the city?
It makes my nerves rattle like an earthquake because I don’t want to. I have to start making some serious decisions about my life, my mom’s, and how to get her to face her new reality—assuming, that is, that she’s still okay, because I still haven’t heard a single word from her.
But I’ve decided to try to shove her out of my mind for the next twenty-four hours. She’ll call me back when she can, if she wants, and there isn’t a problem she can find herself in that’s worse than anything she’s done yet. There’s absolutely nothing to do except enjoy my time with Trey for the rest of the weekend.
A shadow passes by the fogged-up glass wall encasing me in the large shower and I smile.
Like my thoughts of him have conjured him out of thin air…or from his bed, where I left him looking so relaxed and sleeping.
“Need help in there?” Trey asks, and he’s already opening the door.
I need a lot of help. But none of it has to do with the shower. No, it’s the instant heat in my core at his arrival.
“I do. A lot.”
He steps inside and he’s already naked. I grin at him. Did he rush here in a hurry to find me, not spending the time to get dressed? Or did he shuck off his clothing when he realized where I was?
It doesn’t matter because as soon as the thoughts enter my mind, he steps to me, pressing his chest to mine, his cock, so beautiful and long and thick and so much better than perfect, is at my lower stomach. He’s so tall, and I love his height, his strength.
I have a feeling that last night only scraped the surface of what Trey is capable of in bed.
“Good morning.” I drape my hands over his shoulders and lean in for a kiss. He tastes like mint and coffee. So he didn’t rush to find me. “I didn’t want to wake you this morning.”
“You’re up early. Sleep well?”
His hands are already at my waist, roaming my hips, my lower back, pressing me against him. I lean in, kiss his clavicle, everywhere I can reach.
We don’t even need the water on. The two of us alone are enough to steam up the shower.
“I did. I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep so I thought I’d get some work done.”
“We’ll get work done.” He nips at my earlobe, my jaw, letting me know that by “work,” he’s not thinking at all of my editing. I imagine it’s something much…hotter.
He spins me and I’m facing the shower wall, my hands going up to brace myself, and I’m a riot of emotions. Turned on. Nervous. The light-of-day morning sex is a different beast than the dark of night in a bed.
I haven’t always had the most adventurous sex life, but my imagination has taken over where reality has left off.
“God, Trey,” I drop my head and moan as his fingers slide to my front and down. Even without the shower water, I’m wet and slick as he slides his fingers through my slit, inside, teases my clit. The weight of him is at my back, one hand on the shower wall caging me in, with his chest to my back.
“We did slow last night—”
“Twice,” I confirm.
“Twice. But I think I promised you hard and fast, too.”
“You did. You’re really slacking with that.”
He laughs and sucks my shoulder hard enough to pull a groan from my throat. It’ll leave a mark for sure. I’m too fuzzy from lust to care.
“Trey,” I moan, reaching around myself to feel him. His lower back, his muscular butt, the scape of his dark hair on his thighs. The man is so damn beautiful.
But then he’s there, bending his knees, sliding my feet farther apart, and the tip of him is at my entrance. His fingers are still at my sex, sliding, preparing me, but I’m so more than ready I might finish before he can fill me.
“Please.” I throw my head back, rest it against his shoulder, and he slides in.
And oh dear, sweet mother of nature and all that is perfect in the world. The man fits me, stretches me, consumes me everywhere.
He takes his time sliding in, giving me time to adjust, but I’m already so close that if he doesn’t get his fingers off my clit I will finish before he gets started.
I grip his wrist and pull his hand off me, putting both of our hands on the shower wall.
“Fuck me.” It’s a demand. A dare. I don’t even know. But he chuckles at my ear, groaning, as he pulls out and thrusts himself back inside.
“Bossy.”
“Needy,” I correct him.
Fortunately for me, he listens. He moves in and out of me, and his hand not pressed against mine goes to my hip. We find our hurried rhythm like we’re in a race, him slamming in and out of me while I arch back, my body asking and seeking more.
It doesn’t take long until heat shoots down my spine to my core, my thighs quaking. I’m balanced on my toes, and I’m so close it only takes two more quick, filling, and heavy thrusts from Trey behind me to send me careening off the edge into pure, blissful pleasure.
“Oh, yes!”
My body spasms and I grip his hand tighter as the tremors slide through my body, all the way to my scalp.
“Fuck,” Trey groans, and he thrusts harshly inside of me. He pulses, empties himself, and it’s only then I realize what we’ve forgotten.
Shit. “Condom?”
He’s not even done and I’m ruining it. “Trey?” I ask, when he doesn’t say anything.
“Sh-shit. Willow. I’m so damn sorry. I’m clean, I swear it.” He pulls out quickly and I turn, collapsing against the shower wall. The tile is suddenly cold. The water no longer hot. I shiver as I press my hands to my face.
“I’m on the pill,” I tell him, my hands falling. “I’m on the pill.” Perhaps repeating it will take away my sudden fear. This is how Cara got knocked up. A one-night stand at her best friend’s wedding when a condom broke. Oh, the irony. Fortunately, I’m on the pill, and she wasn’t.
“It’s okay,” I say, but I’m only half serious. I never do this. I never forget to insist or have my own on hand.
And he came looking for me. Trey is standing in front of me, scrubbing his face, and he must feel my stare because he pierces me with a serious glare. “I didn’t mean this. I mean, I did, when I heard the shower running, but I wasn’t thinking. I’m clean though, I swear it. You’re diligent?”
“With my birth control? I use it like a Catholic prays the Hail Mary.”
“Okay.” He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s a strange comparison, given the circumstances, but I get your point.”
So the metaphor is ridiculous, and he’s right. I grin. “It’ll be fine.”
“Okay.”
“Good.”
My legs are trembling and I can still feel the tremors of my orgasm subsiding. He’s still half hard and I quickly glance away, turning back to the shower to rinse off. “You can stay here and shower if you’d like.”
“Thank you.” I step around Trey, but his hand comes out and settles on my hip.
“Willow, it was one time. I won’t let that happen again. I’m sorry.” His head is dipped down, brown hair soaked, water dripping from his long, thick lashes. But his eyes are serious. Earnest. He didn’t plan this and it would be ridiculous for me to assume so.
“It’s okay, honest. It just startled me.” To prove it, I brush my lips across his and open the door, grabbing a towel from the hook on the way, and dry off.
Cara will lose her mind when…if…I tell her about this mishap. Hell, she’ll probably start baby shopping and throw a party for me.
I’m sitting in a chair on the deck outside our suites, feet curled under me and a freshly filled coffee mug in my hand. My hair is air-drying which isn’t the best, considering I have to style it soon, and once I had left the bathroom, I’d thrown on a pair of lightweight pajama shorts with a tank top. It’s still early, and on the small table next to me is my phone. Blank of notifications. I haven’t gathered the courage yet to text or call my mom, but the person I really want to call and scream at is my father. I’ve barely spoken to him since he walked out on my mom, and some days I still wonder if he realizes that, despite the fact I’m technically an adult, he’d walked away from me, too. Or if he cares. But damn him. His walking away created a downward spiral effect on my life and my mom’s, and I have so many questions to ask him about why he’d walk away with no closure and not even a heads-up to let me know.
The loss is heavier some days, mostly when I’m left to my own thoughts. The forgotten condom earlier brought up a slew of memories and terrified thoughts.
What if I do get pregnant? Is Trey the kind of guy who will stick around? Or would I see his back walking away and fading into the distance? It sucks that my dad has altered my view of men. When I was younger, I used to want to marry someone exactly like him, a stable, handsome provider, but as I grew older I saw things in him that made me curl my lip and filled my heart with disappointment. The missed ballet recitals. The forgotten cheer competitions. When he scheduled a business trip over my sixteenth birthday and never bothered to call me while he was gone. So, yeah, I wasn’t exactly kidding when I told Trey my emotional baggage might be heavier than the actual luggage I’d brought for a weekend.
Somehow, I’d met and fallen in love with a guy who’s the exact spitting image of my own dad. Scott always wanted everything his way, all the time, and yet when things mattered to me, he rarely showed interest. There’s blame on my part for sure, for allowing it and not standing up for myself sooner, but it’s a difficult line to walk when you love someone and want them to be happy. And yet, how could I have fallen in love with someone who’s so much like someone else I don’t respect, and how can I get over the fear I’ll do the exact same thing again?
I’m falling for Trey and yet I’m not sure how to trust someone, especially when that trust involves handing over your heart in the process.
Sighing, I set down my coffee and grab my phone. If anyone knows screwed-up families, it’s Cara, and I have no doubt she’ll be awake since Jimmy is an early riser.
Her phone rings twice and when she answers, there’s a giggling toddler in the background.
“You’re up early,” Cara says, through a yawn. “You calling to give me your sex-capades update?”
Memories of Trey’s body moving over me, all those beautiful and hard muscles contacting me as his hips rolled, flash in my mind.
“No.” She’s not getting those moments. “I need help.”
“What is it? What’d he do?” Her playfulness evaporates and there’s steel behind her sweet voice. “And do you need help hiding the body?”
“No, you freak. I’m having a crisis.”
“Oh. Well, that’s normal. I have one of those at least three times a day. What’s this one about?”
I glance around the deck, back through the windows just to make sure Trey hasn’t appeared without me noticing. He has to be done with his shower by now. “I really like this guy, Cara.”
“And that freaks you because…”
“ ‘Nothing gold can stay.’ ” The line from a Robert Frost poem, named the same, depresses me. Nothing good lasts. Spring loses its shine and disappears.
“Well, I’m not sure what that means, exactly, but you’re the former English major, and I’m assuming it means it won’t last. And I hear you, I do. I mean, I used to think the exact same.”
“I don’t know whether or not to trust this. Or him.”
“Well, that’s the sucky part of dating, I think. I mean, hell, even when I found out I was pregnant and told Braxton, he was all in from the beginning but it took me forever to really believe he wanted me and wasn’t just doing the right thing because of his baby, you know? It’s scary to give that to someone, and unfortunately, it doesn’t always work out, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth the risk.”
“I know all that.” I sound pouty. And I hate being pouty. “But my experience with men isn’t really a great barometer. Not all men are like Braxton.”
“They’re not all like your dad or Scott, either.”
Her retort comes quickly, with a sharp sting to it, shooting through the phone and piercing my chest.
“Great. Now I have a dose of daddy issues with my morning coffee.”
“I bet sugar and cream would taste better,” she teases, and then goes serious again. “Do you remember what I’ve told you about my brother?”
Her brother Jimmy had died of leukemia years ago. And yes, I know, because not only is it Cara’s mantra in life, but her friend Graham has similar words inked on his forearm.
“Be true, be you.”
“It’s all we can do, sweetie. Be who you are, say what you feel, and when the time is right…or completely wrong, in my case…the right man is there for you. When it all works out the way it’s supposed to, it makes all the other heartache worth it. You barely know this guy, so I can’t sit here and tell you to jump in with both feet because I can’t predict the future, and it’s too soon, anyway. But I know that Braxton tells me he knew he wanted me to be his forever in one night. It took him minutes. All I can tell you is trust yourself. The rest will come when it’s supposed to, and sometimes it still looks messy in the beginning, like my beginning with Brax.”
I sip my coffee and blink away tears. She’s right. It doesn’t make it easier. “You’re a good friend.”
“I’m the bestest.”
“That’s not a word, but I get your point. Can I ask you a huge favor today?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“Can you go check on my mom again? I still haven’t heard from her.”
“Yeah, we can do that. I’ll swing by after lunch to make sure she’s eating, but yesterday she really did seem fine. Spacey, a little bit, but fine otherwise.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
I sit out on the balcony and finish my cooling coffee, still uncertain. Cara’s right. Love and forever aren’t guaranteed. The risk of heartbreak is always on the horizon.
The decision I need to make is if Trey Kollins is worth the risk.