The Witch With No Name (The Hollows #13)(56)
Author: Kim Harrison

“There’s always room for improvement.” Trent’s weight shifted as he leaned over me. His hand made a delicious path of tingles as it slipped up under the hem of the short nightie, settling in a tight grip on my waist. I smiled and reached for him, pulling him down into another kiss.

My eyes closed as I breathed him in. The hint of my mom’s soap made him even more familiar, and my hand made steady progress down his side and thigh before I drifted inward to find him. His breathing changed, and I lingered as his lips left mine, skating down my neck and to my breast.

“Alice, they’re still asleep.” Takata’s voice jerked through me, and Trent jumped.

“They’re three hours ahead of us,” my mom protested. “We’ve got to go, and I’m not going to sneak out of here and leave them a note!”

“So you knock on their door,” Takata grumbled. “Why are you making me do it?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I’ll do it,” she said, and the sound of her steps rang loudly on the tile. “Watch the waffles, will you? They need to get up.”

Trent looked down at me, his interrupted passion shifting to amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I am up. They need to go away.”

“Sorry,” I said with an apologetic wince, and he rolled to sit up, settling himself beside me with the blankets pulled across his lap.

“Good morning, Ms. Morgan!” Trent said loudly as he stared at the ceiling, and I gave him a backhanded smack.

“See, they’re awake,” I heard her admonish Takata. “Go check the waffles.”

She barely knocked before pushing the door open, and I yanked the blanket up as she peeked in, bringing the scent of maple syrup and cooked batter with her. “Good morning!” she called happily, her hair pulled back and looking more like my sister than my mom in casual jeans and a classy sweater. “Breakfast is ready. You can eat it while it’s hot or let it get cold, but I didn’t want to leave without at least saying good morning.”

“You’re leaving?” I said, grabbing the blanket when Trent threatened to drag it off me.

My mom bustled forward, heels clicking as she went to open the blinds all the way. Sunshine poured in, and my eyes hurt. “We’re catching a flight out this afternoon. Big day today!” She turned, beaming at us. “Damn, you look good together. Rachel, if you screw this up, I’m going to be pissed. Trent has—”

“Mom!” I shouted, and she blinked, turning a slight shade of red. Trent wasn’t helping, and I gave him a pinch to keep quiet when he opened his mouth, presumably to ask what she thought he might have that I might be interested in.

“Sorry,” she said, surprising me. “I just wanted to see you before we left.”

“Where are you going?” I asked again. “I’ve got some spelling to do, and I thought you might be able to help. With the shopping if nothing else.”

“A-A-A-Alice?” Takata shouted. “Where’s the cinnamon?”

Her eyes lit up, and then she frowned, clearly torn. “Oh, I can’t, sweetheart,” she said as she scooped up my jeans from the floor and folded them. “Donald and I have a flight to Cincy in a few hours. I’ve got your funeral to plan.”

“It worked!” Trent exclaimed, and I smiled as my mom’s eyes glowed in anticipation.

“This is going to be fantastic!” she gushed as she fiddled with the fringe on the seventies lamp they had stuck in here. “If I can’t plan your wedding, I can at least arrange your funeral. Donald has a song and everything. You’re going to love it!”

Oh God, she was going to do the eulogy. “Ah, Mom?”

“Get yourself up,” she said as she backed out of the room. “We leave in ten.”

The door clicked shut, and I thumped my head back. I’d never be able to leave my church again. If I had a church to go back to.

Trent threw the covers back and swung his feet to the floor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said as he stood, every yummy inch of him catching the light from the beach. “Your mom is . . .”

“Is what?” I looked at the slowly rising spot in the bed where he’d been and sighed. Just twenty minutes more. Was that too much to ask?

“Fun,” he said, stretching.

“Uh-huh.” I sat up and wrangled my hair back into a scrunchy. “Picture fun on prom night or a PTA meeting. My mom was an active parent.”

Head down, I scuffed past Trent toward the attached bathroom. I’d told Ivy we were bugging out, and I hadn’t called her since, not wanting to blow our story of being dead. But now, after a handful of hours, I probably should tell her we were okay. Even the six hours it would take for my mom to get there was too long to have her worry.

I gasped when Trent snagged me, pulling me, bouncing, back onto the bed. My breath came in fast as his weight pinned me, and I gazed up at him, feeling desired as the entire length of his body pressed into me. “I like you in the morning the best,” he said, eyes on my hair as he tucked it away from my face.

I’d give just about anything to have this forever, and I smiled up at him, liking him the best when he was relaxed and happy, stubble and all. “Maybe we should just keep playing dead.”

Silent, his worry slid back behind his eyes. “I’m sorry you saw that yesterday.”

“Saw what?” My fingers played with the rims of his ears. I knew what he was talking about, but sometimes it was better to pretend.

Propped up on his elbow, he took my fingers in his and kissed them. “With the vampire.”

My breath came in fast, and I tilted my head, trying to catch his eyes with mine. “It wasn’t anything I didn’t know was there.”

“It . . . I promised myself—”

“Trent.” I pulled him to me, finding his lips with mine, feeling a thrill coil down through me and rebound against his own desires. Slowly I eased back into the pillow, but his eyes were just as worried, just as furtive. “I know who you are. And I love you.”

His eyes darted to mine, and the first hints of a smile eased his worry. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, sitting up and pulling me into a heartfelt embrace. “I love you, too,” he whispered, his warmth tingling between us as he held me close.

“Waffles are out!” came faintly through the walls.

My throat was tight. I gave him a final squeeze and his arms eased their grip. I wanted this to last, but even now I knew better than to hope. Trent gallantly held my robe out for me to shrug into, tying it with a suggestive firmness before finding his own robe. Disheveled and feeling odd, I followed him out of our tiny space and into the world again, my hand loosely in his as if I was afraid that if I let go, I’d lose him right then.