Not Quite Enough (Not Quite #3)(65)
Author: Catherine Bybee

“No,” he said with a quick shake of his head. “Domestic flights. Her main hub was in Chicago, but we only saw each other there once in the six months we dated. I’d join her all over the country, but not Chicago.”

“Because she was married?”

He winced. “Yeah. The night before the crash, I picked her up in Virginia and brought her home to meet the parents. It was a surprise. I thought women liked that stuff.” He offered a joyless laugh. “She wasn’t happy. It was then she told me there was someone in Chicago. I didn’t know the someone was a husband until after the crash.”

“How could you have known?”

“I realized later the signs were there.” He sounded disgusted with himself.

“But you loved her. Love is blind I’m told.”

“I thought I did.” Trent looked directly at Monica now, his eyes softened. “But I was wrong. If I had loved her then I would have mourned her. Sure, at first I was so damn mad and dead inside over my parents. Everyone told me it wasn’t my fault, but I was the one who asked my dad to fly her home. I couldn’t do it.” The words flew from his mouth.

“You blamed yourself. That’s normal.” The psych nurse in her was coming out.

“I missed my parents.” He paused, took a breath. “I never missed her. If I loved her, I would have missed her after the anger faded.”

“She screwed you over. It’s hard to care about someone like that.” Monica was mad for him.

He shook his head, as if shaking off what Monica was saying. “After, whenever I dated, or found myself attracted to a woman, I always made sure they knew I was temporary. I think the island helped me with that lifestyle. Vacationing women either do so with their husbands or their girlfriends. Very few married women take off with their friends until they’re hitting the cougar age.”

Monica laughed at that. “I can see the cougars going after you.”

He smiled at that, and Monica felt the hair on her arms go up. Ignoring his effect, she turned toward the coffee pot and poured him a cup.

She set it on the counter in front of him. When he took the cup, his fingers grazed hers and those upended hairs grew to tingles across her shoulders, up her neck, and down her spine.

She moved her hand away, but Trent kept hold of her with a soft grip.

Their eyes met and Monica’s lower lip trembled.

“I missed you,” he whispered. “Even when I thought you were someone else’s, I missed you.”

The lump in her throat was hard to swallow. “You can’t tell me you love me. We hardly know each other.”

“I don’t know what to call the feelings inside of me. But for the first time I want a chance to explore something more permanent than an island fling.”

Oh, damn… she did not need Trent to see her cry. On the one hand, she wanted to embrace him and give him a chance, and the other said they were doomed from the start so why put herself through more heartache. “People who go through what we did often have a connection because they survived something traumatic together. What you’re feeling might be fleeting.”

He was stroking the inside of her wrist. “It might.”

She stiffened.

“And it might not,” he added. “I had decided to leave the island before you and I were trapped in that cave, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m fairly certain I would have needed to fly to LA soon after you returned.”

There were serious butterflies taking flight in her belly. “You probably would have called… to see if the sparks were still there.”

“Oh, they’re still there.”

He tugged her around the counter and ran a hand up her arm. “What about for you? Are they still there for you?”

“Fishing for a compliment, Barefoot?”

His hand tucked around her waist and pulled her between his spread legs. “Fishing for permission.”

She lifted her head and offered her lips, giving him all the permission he needed.

He was soft, sweet, and sensual as he kissed her. Those sparks flew with such bright light she had to close her eyes to contain them. His arms felt so secure as they drew her farther into him. His closed-mouth kisses had her opening to him with tiny licks of her tongue seeking his. Trent moaned, changed his angle, and deepened their connection.

He stood there, holding her, kissing her, forever. When he came up for air, he murmured, “I missed you.”

She missed him, too, and the Ice Queen was legendary for flicking off lovers, never missing them. The need to warn him, to protect him had her pulling away. “Trent?”

He didn’t let her go far. His kiss lingered on her lips and chased tingles down her jaw.

“Wait,” she said, stopping him from moving too fast. “I’m a risk,” she said. “I suck at relationships.”

His lopsided grin made her melt. “Trying to scare me off?”

“Yeah. No. I think I should warn you. Monica Mann should come with a warning label. Caution, Ice Queen on board. I cut guys out when they get too close.” Everyone knew that about her.

Trent ran his hand down her back, and hesitated on her hip before moving back up. “Am I getting too close?”

“You already broke through the imaginary line,” she said.

He brought both arms up to hold her face with his hands. “Uncharted territory?”

She nodded, the sheer terror of knowing she didn’t want him to leave unsettled her.

“I can deal with that. I want to deal with that,” he said.

“I’m scared.” Her words were barely above a whisper.

“Oh, Monica. Standing outside the door and wondering if you were ever going to open it… that was scary. This.” He kissed her briefly. “This isn’t scary at all.”

“What if this, the physical, is all we are?”

He laughed at that and let her go. “We can abstain. Test your theory.”

Monica was positive a look of absolute horror passed over her face. “No sex?”

“Sure.”

“You’re serious.”

He seemed to be liking the idea as the seconds ticked by. “Yeah. Why not?”

Had she ever had a romantic relationship without sex? Not since high school, and those dates didn’t really count.

“I like kissing you,” she confessed.

“Kissing isn’t sex,” he said and placed a hand on her arm.

“So kissing and holding, but no sex.”