Page 68 of The Rented Bride

“Oh god,” she said quietly. “What am I doing?”

The door opened. “You’re talking to yourself.” He crossed to the bed, grabbed a pillow and tossed it onto the floor.

“I am. But they say that is a sign of intelligence.” And she was smart enough to leave the room before she said something stupid. She went into the bathroom, changed into her pj’s, combed out her hair and brushed her teeth. When she returned, Trent sat in a chair, but he’d spread a blanket on the floor.

Her gaze shifted from the blanket to his bare chest to his dark eyes. She wasn’t just saying stupid; she was going to act stupid. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor. Do you want to sleep with me?”

His brow cocked.

“I mean, we can share the bed. We’re adults. We can sleep beside each other without doing anything.”

His mouth quirked.

“Never mind. You can sleep out there in the hall.” She climbed into the bed and curled up under the covers. “I don’t really care if you wake up with a stiff neck and back.”

Closing her eyes tightly, she listened to Trent’s soft footfalls as he crossed the room and turned off the light. Fabric rustled. Breathing. Hers. Or was it his? Her chest tightened and then the bed dipped as he slid in beside her. He groaned and stretched out.

“Thanks,” he whispered into the darkness. “Sleeping with you is much more appealing than the floor. But I’ll still wake up stiff.”

She didn’t know how to respond. Her throat tightened and her mouth grew moist. Trent shifted, getting comfortable, and she was afraid to move. Finally, he settled and she released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her mind whirled, recalling their date. The helicopter, the dinner, the dancing and the kiss. And now she lay in bed with Trent Weston.

***

Cassie startled awake. For a moment, she forgot where she was. A strong arm draped her hip and a hard body aligned with hers. She was warm and rested. She stretched and arched her back. The masculine arm tightened around her, his hips flexed and the solid ridge of his erection pressed into the curve of her ass.

In her sleepy state, Cassie traced her fingers through the sprinkling of dark hair on his forearm. Then she remembered where she was and who she slept with.

She glanced at the glowing red alarm clock numbers. 9:12. She blinked. Those numbers couldn’t be right. She blinked again and lifted her head. “Oh my god.” She scrambled out from Trent’s arms. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Trent stretched and leaned up on one elbow.

Her stomach did a somersault. He was even sexier in the morning. Whiskers shadowed his jaw. His mouth was relaxed and his eyes soft and engaging, without the usual piercing intensity. This was no time to catalog the finer parts of Trent Weston, including the erect cock she’d felt against her backside.

“It’s after nine.” Tears filled her eyes. Why hadn’t she set the alarm?

“Shit.” Trent slid from the bed. “Nine? Are you sure?”

“Trent, it’s been years since I’ve slept in. I don’t sleep in.”

“Neither do I.” He jumped from bed and hurried to the bureau where he grabbed a pair of jeans from a drawer and began putting them on.

She sat on the edge of the bed. “There’s no way I’m going to make my flight.” She shook her head. Another screw-up to add to her growing list. “Maybe I can book a later flight.”

He grabbed a t-shirt from a drawer and pulled it over his head. “Isn’t that going to put you behind schedule?”

“Yes, but I’ll figure it out.” She always did.

***

Trent left Cassie to dress and hurried downstairs to the kitchen where Doris sat at the counter sipping her usual morning coffee.

“Good morning, Doris,” he said, and grabbed a cup from those sitting near the coffee pot.

“Late morning for you,” she said.

“I know. I can’t remember the last time I slept so well.” He filled his cup. “Can you please get Meg for me?”

“Certainly, Sir.” She dried her hands on a dishtowel as she stepped from the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned with Meg.