Ever After (The Hollows #11)(135)
Author: Kim Harrison

"It would never work between us," I said, thinking we had strayed onto dangerous ground.

From the cot, Al snorted in his sleep, mumbled about pie, and went silent.

"You’re great to work with, Rachel, but we have nothing in common."

Reassured, I let go of my knees and stretched them out, palms on the warm hearth beside me. "That’s what I’m saying. You live in a big house, I live in a church." And yet I am sitting in his little playhouse drinking wine.

"We don’t know any of the same people."

I reached across him for the wine, stretching as I thought of the mayor, the demons, Rynn Cormel. "We don’t go in the same circles at all," I said as I leaned back and took a swallow. But I had fit in at the casino boat and his parties.

"People would talk," he said softly, and I set the empty bottle down. The firelight had turned his hair as red as mine. "Which is a shame. I like working closely with you. God, why is it so hard to tell you that? I compliment people all the time on their work ethics. Rachel, I like working with you. You’re fast and inventive, and not always looking for direction."

This was going somewhere I wasn’t sure I liked. "Trent," I started, glancing at the curtain when Al choked on his own spit and then began to snore again.

"No, let me finish," he said, a hand going firmly down on the stone between us. "Do you know how tiring it gets? ‘Mr. Kalamack, should we do this, or that? Have you weighed all the factors, Mr. Kalamack?’ Even Quen hesitates, and it drives me batty."

"Sorry."

"You, on the other hand, just go and do what you think needs to be done. If I can’t keep up, you don’t care. I like that. I’m glad you’re going to help me with the Rosewood demons."

"Yeah," I said, wondering if he had any more of that wine stashed somewhere. "That’s what you say now, but wait until they start playing with the ley lines."

"My God, you have beautiful hair in the firelight," he said softly, and I blinked. "It’s like your thoughts, all cinnamon and wild untamed. I’ve always liked your hair."

I froze when he reached out and touched it, my breath slipping from me when his fingers grazed my neck. Slowly I reached up and took his hand, bringing it down. "Okay, we need to get you inside, Mr. Kalamack," I said, thinking that he had had way too much to be comfortable saying what he was, doing what he was. "Come on, stand up. I’ll stay here with Al so he doesn’t steal the picture of your mom."

I stood, still holding his hand and gently pulling him up with me. A part of me wanted this, but the smarter, wiser part knew it was a mistake.

"I am not drunk," Trent said firmly, standing before me without a waver to his stance. "I don’t need to be drunk to say you have nice hair."

A flutter lifted through me, and I shoved it away.

"And I do not want to go back to my apartments," he said. "I want to go for coffee. Al isn’t going to wake up." His eyes were on mine, and my heart pounded when he let them drop to my lips. "I am not drunk."

"I wouldn’t care if you were."

Trent’s arms were around me, and they felt right. "No, I want you to know that I do not need to be drunk to kiss you."

"Um . . ." I started, heart pounding more when he leaned in, slowly, hesitantly, stopping just shy of my lips. All I had to do was lift my chin. Breath held, I did.

With a gentle pressure, our lips met. His hands slipped more firmly about me, and I held myself back, not afraid, but wanting to feel everything slowly as I leaned in, tasting the wine on him, feeling the warmth of his body pressing into mine, breathing in our scents that were mingling and changing with the warmth. My hands rose to find his hair, and I relaxed into him as the silky strands brushed through my fingers. I wanted more, and I leaned into him as our lips moved against each other.

I pushed him off balance, and he took a step back, our lips parting even as he pulled me to him closer yet as I stumbled forward into him. The rush of the kiss pounded through me, and I stared at him, breathless, seeing in his eyes that he was not drunk. He was stone-cold sober, and it scared me. "Why did you do that?" I whispered.

He half smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I don’t know," he said, his grip on me becoming more sure. "But I’m going to do it again."

Oh God, yes, I thought, and then he pulled me into him. The tingle of the nearby line danced at the edge of my awareness, and as his hands hinted at rising up to find my br**sts, I loosened my hold on the energy in my chi to send a dart of energy balancing between us, hinting at more.

Trent’s lips on mine hesitated, then became more demanding. Passion ran through me. Heart pounding, I jerked as his back found the wall. It was intoxicating, and realizing I wanted to reach behind his waistband, I stopped.

Breathless, I backed up from him. The warmth from his lips slowly cooled. My lungs heaved, and I stared at him, not as shocked as I thought I would be. "This isn’t going to work," I said, scared. "You’re going to get married to Ellasbeth and be what everyone needs you to be."

He reached out and slowly pulled me to him. Tense, I stood as he ran a hand through my hair. My eyes closing, I tilted my head to feel his fingers on my face. Reaching up, I took his hand in mine, leaving a kiss in his palm as I curved his fingers around it and lowered his hand between us.

"Yes, I know," he said, coming closer until our hands pressed between both of us, and I trembled as he kissed my cheek. My passion pulled to the breaking point, I opened my eyes as I felt him draw away. I wanted this, but I knew better.

"You want to go for a coffee?" he said, shocking me. "The-men-who-don’t-belong might be there, or a demon catching a cup of caffeine. I hear they will give a lot for a good cup of Joe. Al isn’t going to wake up until long after sunrise."

Slowly my pounding heart began to ease. "Or maybe we can just talk."

Trent smiled. "We can try," he said, taking up the lantern and opening the door.

Cool night air spilled in, but it did nothing to dampen the memory of his hands on me, touching my skin, bringing tingles to life, bringing me to life.

"What are the chances that nothing is going to happen?" he said as I followed him onto the slate threshold and passed it. "You attract trouble, Rachel Morgan."

Looking at him standing beside me in the darkness, I had to agree.