her breath.
He hadn’t touched her. He showed no inclination that he wanted to. So why was she suddenly craving his kiss?
“Does it matter?” She should back away. Put the width of the room between them. A table. A chair. Better yet, a door. Several corridors. A couple dozen floors.
“Not to me.” His tone was light but his gaze was intense. “But my brother might have appreciated knowing you were cheating on him with me.”
“I wasn’t cheating on him. With you or anyone else.”
In her rush to vindicate herself in his eyes, she neglected to remember that little matter of math. Would Trent realize that nine months after they had been together in Las Vegas, she’d given birth to Dylan? The thought terrified her. What if he wouldn’t help her after discovering she’d kept the truth about his son from him? It was a practical concern, but not her bigger fear.
It hadn’t taken a lot for Rafe to convince her that once Trent learned the truth that he would still reject her and his son.
Which is why she hadn’t told him about Dylan when she’d discovered she was pregnant. Was it cowardly of her to hide the truth because she was assuming the worst outcome? Of course, but nothing Trent had ever said to her gave her reason to hope that he’d miraculously alter his way of thinking because he was going to be a father.
“I don’t want to talk about my marriage.”
“Then we’ve run out of things to say to each other.” Trent gestured toward his office door.
“That isn’t necessarily true,” she countered, snatching at something to keep the conversation rolling. If she kept him talking, he wouldn’t be able to throw her out of his office and maybe she could get the topic back around to the record label.
“What else did you have in mind?”
“You could ask me about Murphy.”
He’d gotten her the French bulldog as a Christmas present three years ago. At the time she’d thought he’d bought the cream-colored snore monster because he was starting to get ideas of taking their relationship to the next level. She’d been in heaven.
Having Trent all to herself for those two weeks had been magical. They’d snuggled on the couch and opened presents at midnight on Christmas Eve. The week leading up to New Year’s, they’d walked the puppy, browsed through Chinatown and the East Village, taken in a couple Broadway shows. They’d rung in the New Year with a bottle of champagne and the most perfect lovemaking of Savannah’s life.
Then, six weeks later, he’d canceled on her last minute, and she’d spent Valentine’s Day crying into Murphy’s soft puppy coat. She’d realized that the long-distance thing wasn’t working for her and she’d decided to quit the soap opera and move back to LA.
“How is he?”
“Wonderful. He’s devoted to Dylan. Follows him everywhere. Curls up with him at nap time.”
“How did Rafe enjoy sharing his bed with the dog?”
Questions like these were a minefield. How did she answer? She couldn’t reveal that she’d entered into a loveless marriage and had never shared a bed with her husband.
“He didn’t.” Which was at least true.
“I’m not surprised. Rafe was never an animal person.”
Unlike Trent, who’d fostered several rescues over the years. He liked helping out—something he’d deny—but the temporary nature of providing a home for dogs who after a couple months moved on to permanent situations demonstrated his unwillingness to commit and his distaste for being tied down.
She’d been so hurt by his refusal to move their relationship forward, even though she’d known that’s how he was when she’d gotten involved with him. She kept hoping that he’d change. That she’d be the one he’d fall in love with and would be unable to live without.
Instead, in her sorrow and loss, she’d let his brother manipulate her. In her heart she’d known Trent was a better man than his brother, and a small part of her had expected him to save her one more time.
Only he hadn’t. And she couldn’t blame him for leaving her to rot.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“It was wrong of me to get involved with Rafe.”
“I’ve been waiting a year and a half for you to admit that.”
Trent’s arms were around her, his lips descending, before she could guess his intention. Fire flashed along her nerve endings at the first touch of his hot mouth against her skin. She gasped as his lips trailed down her throat. In the space of one heartbeat, she transitioned from wary to wondrous. His teeth grazed the sensitive joining of neck and shoulder and her toes curled. He knew her weaknesses. Every single one. Obviously he intended to capitalize on her bad judgment.
So what?
It had always been like this between them. Hot. Delicious. Inescapable. She groaned, surrendering to pleasure. Why not? They were both consenting adults. She was no longer married to his brother. This had nowhere to go. She’d discovered the folly in trying to create a traditional family. Failing at that, what more did she have to lose by giving in to this rush of desire? And if she convinced Trent to help her in the process, what was the harm in that?
All these thoughts flashed through her head in the instant before Trent’s hand slid over her butt and pulled her pelvis into snug contact with his arousal. She fisted her hands in his hair and tugged to bring his mouth to hers. She wanted him, needed this—why deny it? Later she could chastise herself for this rash act.
Trent captured her mouth in a hot, sizzling kiss. The ache between her thighs pulsed with more urgency as his tongue plunged past her teeth. She met the thrust with ardent fervor. A growl vibrated in her throat. That they could be discovered at any second should have bothered her. On the other hand, maybe Trent had entertained enough women in here to make his staff wary of interrupting their boss.
That thought too should have disturbed her. But Savannah was beyond logic and reason.
She drew him toward the couch and pushed him onto it. He bounced a little as the cushions gave beneath him. With a sassy grin, she hiked up her skirt and climbed onto his lap. Settling her hot center against his erection caused them both to shudder. She wasn’t sure when the Courtney Day persona had fallen away. What she was doing now was pure Savannah.
Breath ragged, palms gliding up her thigh, he regarded her. His guards were up. He’d tightened his lips into an unyielding line and a sharp line appeared between his strong, dark brows. Questions gathered in his eyes. Savannah rocked her hips in a sultry move that caused him to exhale sharply in a low curse.
He started to speak. She shushed him and captured his face between her hands to keep him still while she flicked her tongue against his lower lip and then pulled it between her teeth and sucked gently. Strong fingers dug into her thighs hard enough to leave bruises. She smiled as she kept up the tantalizing seduction of his mouth.
Earlier when he’d pulled her against him, she’d
