CHAPTER TWENTY
“Timing is everything.”
I WAKE UP ALONE, sated, and sore.
The wine-red sheets smell like Trent and sex. I press my face into the pillows and smile, feeling a sense of peace and calm that I can’t even begin to describe.
He cuddled me all night. And it was…beautiful.
Surprisingly, I didn’t feel vulnerable, or soft. In his arms, I felt safe. Wanted. Cherished. And I don’t want to think about why that is. It freaking scares me.
Suffice it to say, he won’t have to manipulate me into letting him cuddle me in the future.
I laze around in the sheets for a while, never wanting to leave this bed. But the occasional sounds downstairs eventually push me to get up. After freshening up, I throw on clean underwear and a casual summer dress from my overnight bag.
It’s only when I’m making my way downstairs that the smells hit me. The delicious aroma of bacon mingling with the happy sounds of reggae music. I’d assumed Trent had gone to the office again and it was True down here, but when I hit the landing and turn into the open kitchen, there’s Trent, in lounge pants and nothing else. He’s making breakfast while bobbing his head and singing along to Bob Marley’s “Is This Love”.
I stop at the kitchen island. “Someone’s in a good mood this morning.”
He turns, arching a brow as though he hadn’t heard me enter, but he doesn’t stop singing. Setting down the spatula, he starts dancing toward me, a big old smile on his face, his usually dark and intense eyes full of life and mirth. He looks so boyish in this moment, happy even, like the carefree prankster I grew up with.
“What’s gotten into you this morning?” I ask through a laugh.
Still singing, he snakes his arm around my waist and begins to move me along to the beat, and his mood is so damn infectious I start dancing along with him.
Giggling, I ask, “Is this your usual ‘I got laid last night’ mood.”
“No. This is my ‘I’ve got Lexi fucking Flores in my bed’ mood,” he replies, then resumes singing to me.
I’m grinning so wide my face hurts. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re breathtaking.”
“Your bacon is gonna burn.”
“Let it. I just want to dance with you. Everything is irie, mon.” The latter is said in such a comical bogus Jamaican accent that it makes me giggle even harder.
We dance around the kitchen in swirls of genuine happiness and laughter until his burning bacon starts to smoke up the kitchen.
Then I crack up with deep belly cackles as I watch him rush to get it off the stove and salvage what he can. But it’s all beyond saving, so we dump it all and start from scratch together. Then we eat while standing up because we’re cool like that.
“We need to make the best of the morning before my family lets themselves in,” Trent says, feeding me a piece of kiwi.
I’m sitting on the counter and he’s standing between my legs, both of us sharing a bowl of mixed fruit after a hearty breakfast.
Ah, yes. I forgot how everyone had just barged in on me last week. They all have keys to each other’s homes. It’s a Garza thing. Heck, I used to have a key to their home and I’m not even family.
I lick fruit juices from my lips. “Like what?”
“Like camp out in bed with me.”
My stomach flips with both anticipation and apprehension of being in bed with him again. Trent’s sexual prowess is something to brag about, but he’s also insanely insatiable and doesn’t seem to understand the concept of resting to refuel. I hadn’t known it was possible to have as many orgasms in one night as I did last night. It’s a wonder I woke up with any energy at all this morning.
My face must convey all I’m thinking because he chuckles. “Don’t look so scared. Sex doesn’t have to be involved…unless you want to. We can watch a movie or something. I just want to be with you.”
“I’m not scared,” I lie as my apprehension slowly recedes.
“You are,” he states matter-of-factly. “But it’s my fault. Should’ve controlled myself. I’ve just waited so long for you…”
“Why did you wait so long, though?” I ask, genuinely curious. “With Red Cage’s resources, you could have gotten to me no matter where I was or what I was doing. Tillie said you knew everything about me.”
“Timing.” He feeds me another piece of fruit. “Timing is everything.”
“How did you determine the timing was right this time?”
“You needed me.” Three words said so simply, so easily, like it should have been obvious. “I’ve always needed you, Lexi, but you’ve never needed me. You would’ve never been able to see me while you were busy being ‘Benjamin’s Wifey.’”
I laugh at my old Instagram handle, @BenjaminsWifey. Married to money. It was all a part of the image we had to portray back when working with Slim. I’ve since changed it to @LexiFlo.
Trent is right, though. Back then I had only one focus and it was money. I gave no one the time of day and probably would have resented him if he’d shown up to interrupt my flow.
Sobering, I tell him, “I like this, here, now”—I gesture between us—“and I really, really enjoy being with you. But I can’t promise that anything serious or lasting will come from this. Life wise, I’m all over the place. After paying off this debt to you, I have a lot to figure out. Where I’m gonna live, what I’m gonna do for work… A relationship just isn’t something I want to deal with right now.” I offer an apologetic shrug. “Just thought I’d throw that out there now so there are no expectations on both ends. A fun fling. Temporary. Let’s just treat it like that.”
For several beats, he just stares at me, expressionless dark eyes roaming all over my face. Then, with a half shrug, “Okay.”
A part of me sags in relief while another part, a much smaller part, slumps in disappointment.
Mostly, though, I’m skeptical. Very skeptical of that easy “okay.” But I don’t have time to voice my skepticism because a squeal of surprise escapes me when he scoops me up off the counter and carries me up the stairs.
He takes me straight to his shower, lathers me with soap, then fucks me against the tiles until I’m digging my nails into his slippery skin and trembling around him.
Then, we snuggle nude in his bed and watch movies and share soft kisses, until the other Garzas let themselves in.