Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Better yet—who.
It’s him.
Electricity courses through my body.
I feel warm and tingly in an instant.
Trent is naked.
Lying in his sauna. The glass foggy from the heat, but not enough to block my view of him.
And I see everything.
Every inch of his perfectly formed body.
My eyes trail over his exposed skin . . .
Lower.
Lower.
Holy hell.
I want to fan myself. Or better yet, lie on top of him.
He is hard, thick, and long.
I wonder what he’s thinking. If he’s thinking about someone.
If he’s thinking about me.
My tongue feels heavy.
My cheeks are burning.
I’m on fire.
Move. Payton.
The last thing I want is for this man to catch me staring.
I will myself to take a step back.
Then another.
I retrace my path backward until I’m out of view.
Until I can retreat to the confines of my room.
As soon as I’m sure he can’t hear me, I take off and run up the stairs, dashing across the hall and slamming the door shut.
Once it closes behind me, I slide down it, resting my back on the heavy wood.
Head in my hands, I finally exhale.
Now that I’ve seen him, I don’t know how I’ll ever speak to him again.
The unbelievably sexy image has branded itself in my brain.
And something tells me no quantity of cold showers, or even holy water, will rid me of it.
23
Payton
* * *
Days have passed, and just as I suspected, the image haunts me.
Trent naked.
Yeah, it’s all I think about.
I’m doing a crappy job of studying. Heck, I’m doing an even crappier job at just existing with his picture in my mind. If Trent really wanted to kill my academic career, he should’ve skipped the chores and extra homework and gone straight to the nudity.
The only saving grace is he hasn’t been around much to taunt me further.
Like this moment.
I’m back at the Cresthill facility. But unlike most days that I’m here, he’s not.
He dropped me off and left me standing on the corner of the street to find my way in. My cheeks colored red, but I stood tall. This would mean there would be no toilets to clean.
Without Trent here to micromanage me, I’m able to spend time with the residents instead of burning my hands with cleaning products.
I look around the room, searching for someone to talk to. A conversation will help me stop thinking of lickable abs. Okay, that’s not the body part I’m thinking about.
Sue me.
That’s when I see the man who called me Trent’s girl. Henry.
I’ve since seen Trent with him. Often.
Maybe he knows something useful about the man who holds my life in his hands.
Any piece of information will help me.
There’s a deadline looming. I need to ask Trent for money to give to my sister today. Maybe, just maybe, Henry can give me info I can use to barter with Trent.
I cross the space and take the empty seat across from him.
“I hope it’s okay I sit here.”
“Pretty lady like you is always welcome.” He smiles, and that makes me laugh.
I never knew my grandparents, but in my imagination, mine would be just like him.
A flirt like my sister.
Not like me.
She’s the only family I remember well.
Our parents died when I was only six years old. Payton was eighteen and raised me.
I can’t imagine how hard that must have been, which is why I am now trying to pilfer information off Henry to get money for her. Even if I have to use the fact that he thinks I’m Trent’s girl to get the info.
“Henry, right? I’m Payton. I just started helping out here.” My voice is soft as I flash him a smile.
“I saw you,” he says, chocolate brown eyes finding mine.
They are deep. Probably filled with great stories and anecdotes only a person of his age would have. Probably the reason Trent spends so much time with him. From what I can tell from Trent, he didn’t have a relationship with his dad. Maybe Henry was the father figure he went to.
I’m banking on it.
“You’re Trent’s girl,” he finishes, and I nod, forcing the guilt to roll off my shoulders.
There is no need to correct him. If I do, I run the risk he’ll clam up.
I place my elbows on the table and lean in.
“So, you’ve known Trent for a while . . .” I lead, hoping he divulges some useful information.
“Pretty long. About two years, maybe. However long this place has been open.”
“Oh, wow, really?”
It comes as a surprise to me. I didn’t realize Trent had been volunteering here this long.
“Yep.” His lips part and he grins widely at me.
It’s obvious this man cares deeply for Trent. That Trent is important to him. My stomach drops at the thought. I’m a horrible person. How can I try to take advantage of him?
“I didn’t realize he’s—” I stop myself.
I don’t want to say anything that will make him think I don’t know Trent well. I may feel bad pressing him, but I also don’t want to upset him by making it obvious what I intended to do.