Page 80 of The Rented Bride

She sat and met Trent’s gaze. “I have some concerns.”

He lowered himself into the chair to her left. “About?”

“You shouldn’t be here.” He was doing too much for her, going out of his way to try and please her, which kept him in her thoughts. And she was thinking about him, wondering what he was doing, but more importantly, what she would do if she fell in love. She wasn’t sure she wasn’t already half in love with him. “We both know what’s going on between us, and it’s a mistake.”

He pulled his chair close to hers. “What do you think is going on between us?”

He stared hard into her eyes. For a moment she couldn’t think, could barely breathe. Oh yeah, she was in trouble. Mistake or not, she was attracted to him. During the day, she thought about him and at night she dreamed about him. Graphic, erotic, curl her toes dreams that left her frustrated when she woke.

“You’re blurring the lines between business and personal,” she said.

“You mean like this?” Trent curled his fingers around her neck and pulled her closer until their mouths touched. She closed her eyes and kissed him back. His tongue slipped into her mouth, deepening the kiss.

They parted. Her heart had jumped to a gallop. “We both know how this is going to end,” she said.

He traced a finger along her cheek. “I don’t want to worry about tomorrow. For the first time in my life, tomorrow has too many uncertainties. Right now, I want to be with you.”

Her heart thundered louder. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

“Dance with me?” He stood and extended a hand.

She frowned. “Dance?”

He grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet, then strode toward the dance floor. She nearly ran to keep up. A dozen couples on the dance floor twisted and turned to the salsa beat.

“You want to dance to this?” she asked as Trent pulled her in beside another couple.

“Absolutely.” He spun her.

Black lights and strobes flickered, the seductive pulse pounded, and she followed Trent’s lead. Simple moves had her turning into his arms. His hands splayed wide on her back as he dipped her low, then slowly brought her up and pressed her tightly to his chest. They shifted, grinding their hips together as they swiveled low.

More couples crowded onto the dance floor. The room grew warmer, or maybe it was just her, reveling in the intoxicating rush of Trent’s body. Her heart raced when his thigh sliced between hers through the slit in her dress.

He pulled her tighter, crushing her close, and slanted his mouth over hers. The warmth of lips sparked a desire deep in her core. Hot, wet, demanding. He took possession of her mouth. His right hand drifted lower onto her ass, lifting her against his hardened cock. A low moan rolled from her chest. Her head fell back and he trailed kisses along the flesh of her neck.

The song came to an end. Cassie clung to Trent’s neck. Her head spun.

He nuzzled her ear. “How about a drink?”

Sweat dampened the loose tendrils of her hair and her pulse raced. She nodded and he kept an arm around her as they made their way to the bar. Maryanne laughed with the bartender, but the smile she directed at Cassie let Cassie know she’d seen the dance—and the kisses.

“A mojito, please,” Cassie said to the bartender.

Trent held up two fingers.

Maryanne mouthed, Very nice.

Cassie narrowed her eyes and gave a slight shake to her head, hoping Maryanne received the message that the topic of Trent was not open for discussion.

“Personal project?” Maryanne winked at Trent.

Cassie inwardly groaned. If her message was received, it was ignored.

“You two look great together on the dance floor. The photographer thought so too. And still does.” Maryanne indicated the wedding photographer snapping another picture of the three of them.

“Of all that is unholy.” Cassie slid from the seat. “I’ll be right back.”

For a renowned photographer he should know better. He couldn’t claim he didn’t know she wasn’t a guest. Cassie had hired him.