Trent just had a shower.
He is wet. His hair is wet. His brown creamy skin is wet. His kissable pink full lips are wet... The kiss last night...
Why am I looking at his lips? And why am I thinking about the kiss last night? It was nothing. He made it clear. He just wanted to chase that crazy model away. That's all. But, was it?
"You snore a lot," Trent snickers, walking to my closet in his usual erect manner. "And as if that's not enough, you sleep with your drooling mouth wide open. I'm sure your pillow is drenched in saliva."
I bury my hands in my face, trying to hide embarrassment. Wait, he slept on my bed?
I look up at him. "You slept on my bed!"
He takes another towel from the closet rack with which he wipes his hair. "What? You expected me to sleep on the couch?"
