Page 29 of Decidedly Off Limits
“What do you mean?”
“If the Olympics had an event called sprint fucking, my date would’ve won the gold medal. He didn’t even stick around to make sure I came. He was out the door before I was even close to singing Hallelujah.”
Trent cringed. “I’m sorry, Kelsey. The guy was an asshole.” Then he tilted his head to the side, like a curious puppy, amusement creasing the outer corners of his eyes. “But let’s go back to the part where you don’t remember what an orgasm feels like. Haven’t you at least gotten yourself off?”
I fiddled with the edge of my robe. “It’s not something I’ve ever done.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” Yeah, it might have been my hangover talking. Sure Trent and I used to talk about things when we were younger, Trent in his wise, “older brother” way. He had always been great to go to when I needed advice but didn’t necessarily want to ask Liam.
But never in a million and one years would I have talked to him about sex. That would’ve been embarrassing…especially once my body started craving him.
However, that didn’t stop the next words from leaping out of my mouth. “So you’re saying you’ve never treated a date the same way?”
“Never. When I’m with a woman, I always make sure she has a good time. I never leave her sexually frustrated.” He kissed my temple, surprising me, and a tingling warmth spread through my body at his touch.
Or maybe that was because of what he had said.
If I had sex with him, I would never be left wanting.
I would only be left wanting him more.
He pulled away, his breath slightly ragged like mine. “Why don’t you shower and come downstairs. I’ll make you something to eat.” He unfolded himself from my bed and left the room.
It took me a few minutes to collect myself after his tender kiss. Once I had, I stood in the shower, the hot spray raining over my body. I finally turned off the water when the temperature started to cool.
A few minutes later I was dressed in yoga pants, an oversized sweatshirt, and no makeup. My hair was sloppily pulled back in a ponytail. I was the poster girl of someone who didn’t currently give a damn about her looks—and it felt good.
As I walked downstairs, the smell of cooked eggs greeted me. Trent cooked me breakfast? Oddly enough, my stomach didn’t protest at the thought of food. If anything, it rubbed its hands in glee, waiting for the slight queasiness still plaguing it to ease.
Trent was dumping a pile of some sort of brown mess onto a plate as I entered the kitchen. “I made you some scrambled eggs.”
I took the plate from him. “They look…” I thumbed through the Rolodex in my head for an appropriate adjective—preferably one that spared his feelings.
“Overcooked,” he filled in. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry ’bout that. I’m not a very good cook.”
Something we had in common. “Me neither.” Although I didn’t remember my scrambled eggs ever being this brown. But it was the thought that counted, right?
My stomach wasn’t so sure about that, but it let me eat the eggs without putting up a fight. “Thanks,” I said, finishing off the last bite. Then I gulped down the orange juice he’d placed in front of me, washing away the not-so-great texture of the eggs.
“You’re welcome.” He eyed my body, and his gaze slightly glazed over. He blinked, grabbed my glass, and returned to the fridge. “Is that my old sweatshirt?”
Was it? Now that I thought about it, I did remember him lending it to me when we were in college. I had gone to Erin’s apartment but had gotten caught in a downpour. Because I hadn’t paid attention to the weather forecast, I wasn’t dressed for it. My body-hugging T-shirt had been drenched and I was shivering. Trent gave me his sweatshirt, and I’d forgotten to give it back…and then it just became a permanent addition to my wardrobe.
I started to remove it.
“Don’t worry about it. It looks better on you anyway.”
I let the soft, faded-red fabric drop back into place.
The stack of fashion magazines on the table mocked me. I grabbed the top issue and spotted an article I hadn’t paid attention to before:Be Your Own Woman. I read it, and something inside me shifted. Angels sang in gleeful chorus as beams of sunlight streamed into the kitchen.
Remember that article Erin had shown me about creating a fulfilling life before entering a relationship? Yes, that’s the one. I didn’t need to be told more than twice to realize I’d been going about this all wrong. As much as Holly and Erin would disagree, I was still a mess after my breakup with Owen.
“I’m done with men,” I declared, forgetting that Trent was in the room.
“You mean you’re gonna bat for the other team?” He didn’t laugh. Instead, his voice sounded…off.