As he slowly straightened from his crouch, he shot her a caustic look. “And it’s even more nerve-wracking thinking about doing it in front of a bunch of women.”
“Whatever.”
“Yeah, you roll your eyes.” He scraped his nails down the five o’clock shadow that had darkened his face. “You’re not the one who damn near had panic attacks every time an essay or a project was due in high school. Shit, I even bribed Travis into doing it for me a few times—until we got caught.”
“You bribed . . . you mean you had your twin giving your reports in class?”
“I wrote them,” he said defensively. “He just read them.”
A smile twitched at her lips and he had to clench his jaw not to smile back. Okay, yeah, that had been this side of desperate, the two of them swapping out classes, just so Trey didn’t have to give those damn reports. Getting caught—thanks to a teacher who had figured out he couldn’t go from panicked and ready to puke, to suave and cool within the span of a month or two—had probably been the kick in the pants he needed to actually learn how to handle getting up in front of people on his own.
And it had gotten better. Most of the time, other than a few twitches in his gut, he’d learned how to deal.
But he just wasn’t certain if he was ready to handle it for both faces he seemed to be wearing these days. Especially not yet. He was just now learning how to function in this world again. He didn’t need to juggle more on top.
“How did you get started writing them anyway?” Ressa asked. “I mean, Absence is a huge leap away from Exposing the Geek Billionaire.”
There were still shadows in her eyes. He wanted to carry her up to his bedroom and hold her until she slept—okay, other things first—but she needed sleep.
“Well.” He settled on the foot of the lounger and caught her hand. Her nails were wicked red, a slim ring of twisted copper on her right middle finger. He wished he could draw worth a damn, because he loved her hands. Elegant and beautiful and strong.
Aware she was still watching him, he finally looked up and met her eyes. “It was Aliesha,” he said. “She kept pushing at me to do it. After she died, I couldn’t write—not anything—for a year.”
Ressa’s eyes fell away.
He continued to hold her hand as he talked. “Then on the anniversary of the day she died, I woke up, and this idea—the idea she kept teasing me about, was just there.” Toying with her fingers, he thought about that morning—it was weird. He still couldn’t clearly recall Aliesha’s face, but that morning, when he’d taken those first steps toward saying good-bye, he remembered in stark, vivid detail. “I’d talked about wanting to try something different and she wanted me to do it, told me I could. So . . . I tried. I finished—and then I bawled like a baby, because the day I finished was the day I really let myself admit she was gone.”
“So this was some sort of closure for you,” she murmured.
“The first one was.” He shrugged. “Yeah. The second one? There was another idea . . . and it was fun. I had fun with it and I hadn’t had fun with writing for a long time. So . . . I wrote the third one. I’ll keep doing it as long as I have fun with it.”
“And when you stop having fun?”
“I’ll try another kind of story.” He gazed into the fire. The firelight danced over his skin and she was struck anew by how beautiful he was.
The question hovered in the back of her throat.
Ressa told herself not to ask.
Now wasn’t the time.
She didn’t need to do this right now. She opened her mouth, then closed it, feeling like a fool. Before her internal debate could be solved, there was a crashing sound and they both went silent, turning to follow the noise that had come from beyond the hedge that ran along Trey’s yard.
There was no way to see beyond it, not with the fence and the thick, lush green that rose above it.
The odd sensation of being watched settled over her. “What was that?”
“Probably Nadine’s dog,” Trey said. “She’s got an old bulldog that’s blind as a bat.”
The night was quiet, save for the lapping of the water in the pool.
He brushed his fingers down her cheek. “You worry too much.”
Forcing herself to look up, she met his gaze.
“What?”
He cupped her cheek, stroked his thumb over her lip. Tucked there in the corner of his backyard, she felt like it was just the two of them in the world.
He lifted his eyes to hers but they were practically lost in the shadows.
“You wear every thought, right there for people to see,” he said. “Instead of worrying, why don’t you just ask?”
Ressa’s heart lodged up in her throat. She licked her lips, opened her mouth. But the words wouldn’t come.
Trey just shook his head, a faint smile twitching on his lips. “I loved Aliesha. She was Clayton’s mother, was the love of my life . . . while I had her. But she’s gone and I’m not the man I used to be.”
Reaching up, she lay a hand against his cheek. Stubble scraped against her palm. “And who are you now?”
“In this very moment?” He turned his face into her touch. “I’m the man who wants to take you to bed.”
Her heart jumped up into her throat.
She thought of Neeci, thought of Clayton, thought of a hundred reasons why maybe this wasn’t the smart thing to do.
But she could argue with herself for hours.
For once, she was going to listen to what her heart said.
“I like that man . . . a lot.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Ressa didn’t know why she felt so nervous.
It had seemed so easy, so right, outside a few minutes ago.
She’d called her aunt and Angeline had acted so casual, taken it completely in stride when Ressa said she was thinking about staying the night with Trey.
Shoot, the woman had already planned for that.
“I’ve already got clothes for Neeci here, baby. We’ll work out plans to meet tomorrow for you to get your car.”
So simple, so easy.
Except it wasn’t.
Now, lingering by the French doors in Trey’s room, she tried to calm the crazy knots in her belly. She heard a door open—the bathroom, she assumed, and she shivered, opened her mouth to say something. Stall . . . say something, you need to think . . .
But then she was in his arms.
“I missed you,” he whispered against her mouth.
Think.
Yeah, she was going to be doing a lot of that.
Trey moved—she had the dizzying impression of the room spinning and then she was pressed up between him and the wall. “You sure about this?” he asked, his mouth sliding along her cheekbone to nuzzle at her neck.
“Shut up.” She dragged his mouth back to her, nipped his lower lip.
“Yes, ma’am.” Trey stripped her shirt away and then he leaned in, his mouth seeking out the curve of her neck while he reached behind her for the catch on her bra.
“You, too,” she demanded, tugging at the plain white button-down.
She laughed when he pulled it off with a force that sent buttons flying.
“I hope that wasn’t one of your favorites,” she said as he boosted her up.
“Wouldn’t matter. It was in the way.” He braced her against the wall, leaning in to press his mouth to her neck, then go lower, brushing soft, light kisses along her collarbone, and then he moved back up, claiming her mouth with his.