CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I flick off the light in Trey’s hallway bathroom and walk toward his kitchen. We left the restaurant after Mari’s outrageous display, which sucks because the view was great and I’m starved. I tug on the hem of the azure button down shirt Trey loaned me while he promised to save my sweater. His long sleeve shirt is large on me, but since I’m tall it doesn’t completely cover up the plaid boxers I’m using as shorts, also from Trey’s dresser. I’m not sure why he thinks the sweater can't be washed. But working on it made him stop muttering obscenities about Mari, so I ran with it.
Honestly the man’s more upset about it than I am, and I was the one wearing a martini. A double from the amount I soaked up. I give the shirt one last tug and turn the corner to find Trey leaning over his kitchen sink with both hands submerged in the tub of bubbly water.
I lean on the entryway to the room, a little hesitant to enter for some reason. “Do you own anything besides button down shirts?”
“Yes, but button downs are practical. They have the look of casual professional expected of me with investors but can easily be made more laid back when I’m done for the day.”
My face scrunches up at his technical answer, but since Trey never turned to look at me he doesn’t notice. I guess he’s still a little upset about the Mari business.
His hands come out of the sink and he wipes off the bubbles flicking them back in the tub. I’ve never seen stain remover bubble so much, and my curiosity has me step a few feet closer until I’m looking down at the shirt as it soaks.
“Why is it so … sudsy?”
He sticks his hands back in and pushes the blue sweater down into the water from where it floated to the top. “Maybe I used too much soap.” His hand reaches to the back of the sink where a bottle of green dish soap rests on the counter.
Across the bottle big bold letters advertise it as “Concentrated grease fighting formula with EXTRA suds.” I smash my lips together so I don’t laugh and ruin all his hard work on saving the now questionable piece of clothing.
“Do you think ‘ol blue is going to make it?” I look over the sink again and a few bubbles pop on the counter edge.
“Well I have her on life support, but it’s still touch and go.” Trey walks toward me as I turn to face him. My back presses up against the counter as he wraps his strong hands around my midsection. He steps closer until I’m surrounded by Trey and the smell of his heady cologne — the fate of my sweater lost and forgotten between his comforting arms.
His hands move in opposite directions. One rests on my lower back and the other higher over the strap of my bra pulling my shirt up with it. One finger stretches out and he runs the digit under my bra strap leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Your pants are in the washer. Should I throw your bra in as well?”
I laugh at his seriousness and place a hand on his chest until he tightens his grip. “No, I think the sweater took all the damage.”
“What a shame.” He raises his hands to grip the balls of my shoulders and steps back until I’m an arm’s length away. His dark brown eyes travel up and down my body until I flush and drop my head. My heart rate picks up from his perusal and anticipation of what he’ll do next.
His attention flows through me and I cross my arms to still some of my nerves, but it only causes his lips to stretch closer to his ears as his eyes darken. The moment becomes more intense and my head moves to the cupboard beyond his head.
It’s open a crack and behind the door a sliver of neon green catches in my gaze. My eyes narrow at the piece and I squint to get a better look. Then my eyes widen in surprise. Inside Trey’s kitchen cupboard sits the neon green party cup from our first night at the tiki bar. I have a matching one in my own kitchen, but I never thought Trey kept his.
It’s a silly plastic souvenir cup, but the significance behind what it means to me is more than any words Trey could speak. Not wanting him to know he’s been caught being sentimental I whip my head back to his and wrap my hands around his back, pulling him close.
He squeezes me harder. “I hate that Mari was able to ruin our night, but I must say I like you wearing my clothes.”
His words cause a rush of heat to flow to my core, but I answer back playfully despite how his eyes make me feel naked. “Yeah? You think you look good on me?”
“In more ways than one, Simone.” He pushes on me so I’m forced to take a step back and am stopped by the counter again.
I’m caught in his advances. Trey braces himself on the counter by gripping the edge and I’m boxed in, not that I want to escape. I shiver when he trails his flat palms down my sides stopping at my hips. His head lowers to rest in the crevice of my neck, and he kisses a line at my collarbone.
“Oh, Simone. I do enjoy playing with you.” One hand sneaks up and he undoes a top button of my shirt before pulling the material back to expose more of my neck and collarbone. His lips raise on one side in a half haphazard smile I've learned means he’s up to no good.
Trey lowers his head and his tongue travels a line up from my neck until he stops at my jaw line for a quick bite. Then he finishes at the skin right below my ear. This time he sucks on a soft patch of skin we’ve recently discovered does things to me.
My body relaxes against his and I sigh as my shoulders sag. He laughs and I notice his hand travel down the front of my shirt with opened buttons left behind. He pops the one level with my bra and a single finger stretches out to trail the exposed skin on the top of my chest. My back arches out reaching for more contact.
His body tenses against mine until he steps back a fraction and both hands lower to my upper thighs. The boxers pull on my skin as his hands grab my legs under the fabric. He picks me up a few inches placing me on his counter. It’s cold against my legs where he pushed up the boxer shorts. My legs dangle over the edge and he steps between my knees widening them more.
Trey’s eyes no longer meet mine as he stares at the small portion of my exposed chest. His tongue wets his lips and I push out my chest to entice him more. He grins and then pushes his face between my breasts. His tongue trails the same area above my bra his finger did moments earlier. My hands fall to the counter behind me and I wrap my legs around his middle to keep him in place.
A few more buttons are released and then his hand snakes in the fabric opening at my stomach. The cold pushes through and chills my skin, but not enough to cool my body from the heat Trey’s created in me. He rubs my skin higher until he cups my left breast. A rogue thumb circles over my nipple and my head falls back smacking against the white cabinets. He kisses his way up until our mouths connect where his tongue traces the seam of my lips. I open at his silent command.
The buzz of a doorbell bounces off the walls of his kitchen and we both go stock still. Our mouths tear apart and my eyes widen at Trey as if we’ve already been caught in the act like school children.
Trey leans his forehead against mine and the raggedness of his breathing matches mine. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he says no one in particular.
