Chapter Six
1235 Words
Chapter Six
Adalia kneaded the dough, taking out the frustration of the day on the emulsion of flour, water, salt and yeast.
Between the bank and DeShawn’s interference, there wasn’t much room for calm. Her mind swirled with questions about her future. If she lost the bakery, she’d have nowhere to live. She’d be forced back to her father’s place, because there was no way in hell she’d get drawn into DeShawn’s web of laziness and lies again.
She paused and wiped her brow with her forearm, then sighed.
There had to be some way for her to make this money back.
The bell over the door in the shop tinkled.
“We’re closed!” she called out, frowning to herself. That’d better not be DeShawn. Besides, it was past five already and she’d hung the ‘CLOSED’ sign in the shop window.
“Hello?” Adalia called, brushing the flour from her hands and onto her apron. “Who’s there?”
A trickle of fear worked its way into her mind – this was New York, after all – but she diverted it with thoughts of calm.
She covered the dough with a damp cloth, then tiptoed over to the sink and picked up a chopping knife from beside the sink. She gripped it tight, and the cool steel against her palm gave her shivers.
Adalia waited. Footsteps approached, heavier than a woman’s. It definitely was a man, but he didn’t have DeShawn’s loping gait; that she could recognize within seconds.
“You’d better have a good reason for coming here,” she said out loud, using her hardest tone possible, but it still quavered in the middle.
“I always have a reason for everything I do,” Trent said, strolling in with that easy confidence he wore around his shoulders like a cape. Did that mean he was a superhero?
She restrained a grimace at the cheesiest thought she’d ever had.
“What are you doing back here?” She laid the knife back on the counter and folded her arms. “This area is off limits to customers.”
“I’m not just a customer,” he said, walking over to meet her. She didn’t move away from him, she couldn’t bring herself to back off. There was too much tension between them, too much need.
Still, he had that bimbo, that blonde Van Heerden with her perfect body.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said, and reached up to brush her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Constantly. You live in my brain, Adalia.”
“What do you want?” she whispered, not daring to meet his gaze. She focused on the silver clock on the wall, its hands ticking away. Life flowing in and out, the ebb of her emotion swelling beyond her perception.
There was no control for this. How could she resist him?
“Look at me,” he murmured, gruff with desire. “Look into my eyes.”
“No.” She trembled for him, but she couldn’t permit this weakness. Looking into his eyes would be like looking into his soul. It would be over.
He ran those fingers down her cheek and rested them on her chin. He didn’t grip it or force her, but the pressure of his intent was enough.
Adalia swayed her head to the side and was met by those ice blue pools of spirit. They brimmed with emotion, the kind women dreamed of, and she drew in a breath.
“Look what you’ve done to me.” Trent didn’t break away from the moment, but slid his other hand around her back and brought it up to rest at the nape of her neck, controlling her.
“I don’t –”
“You’ve consumed my every thought, and I barely know you.”
It was an echo of her thoughts, and she wanted to collapse from hearing them out loud.
“We owe this to ourselves,” he groaned, and layered kisses along her neck and throat. They were hot and wet, soft as she’d ever felt and hot desire rushed through her.
“Stop,” she moaned, shaking for him, shaking for more, to have it all, but she couldn’t give in to this. He had someone else; he was a player; he didn’t really want anything more than a conquest and she wasn’t that!
She refused to be that for him.
“Adalia,” he mumbled and she turned to jelly. Her knees buckled, but he caught her in those strong arms and held her upright, pressed against his broad chest. Trent kissed the sides of her neck this time, opening his mouth wider, increasing the pressure and nipping her skin in places.
“Oh God,” she groaned, throwing her head back and embracing the moment. This one pure moment of pleasure.
Trent stopped and brought his face toward her, to take their first real kiss.
“No,” she stammered. “Not like this, no.” Adalia placed both palms on his chest and pushed herself away. He held her fast for a second, but released her with an expression of regret.
“What’s the matter?” Trent’s brow wrinkled like a flopped soufflé.
“I won’t be another one of your bimbos, Mr. Dawson.” She walked away from him, swaying her hips, and stood beside the dough, which would be ruined if she didn’t place it in a warmer environment to let it rise.
“You seem to have a lot of knowledge about my personal life that I’m not aware of.”
“Oh come on,” she said, slapping her thighs to warm her hands. “I’m not stupid, Trent. I know what’s really going on here. You’re looking for a conquest, a little fun on the side. Why else would you have invited me to that event? It was a blatant attempt to show off.”
Trent laughed out loud. “You know me so well already, and you seem to have a rather high opinion of yourself if you think you’re my conquest.”
She glared at him then hid her shame by uncovering the dough and prodding it. It was ruined, and she scooped it off the table and threw it in the bin without further ado.
He was wrong. She didn’t have a high opinion of herself. It was quite the opposite, in fact. She’d been beaten down by herself and by DeShawn’s lack of attention during their two-year relationship.
The man had seen her as a plaything, not a woman to be respected, just to be used for his own desires.
“You can’t figure it out,” he observed, folding those muscled arms beneath his white cotton shirt. It was unbuttoned at the neck, open and hinting at the tanned flesh below.
“Please get out of my kitchen,” she responded.
Trent walked to the work bench and planted his fists on it, then leaned right over until he was in her face and there was nowhere else to look.
“Let me get real with you for a minute, girl. I want you. I want you and I plan on having you, but not just in the way you think.”
She gulped then blinked several times. The way he’d said it was both arousing and terrifying. What did he actually mean with that? Did he want her for s*x? Or did he want to be with her in another way?
He studied her reaction then gave a grunt of approval, which made his Adam’s apple bob up and down.
“Yeah, that’s right. And guess what, Adalia?” Trent didn’t move an inch forward or back, but held that same intensity. The steady stare intoxicated her.
“What?” she replied, trying to inject her usual attitude into the question, but failing miserably. There was no way she’d win this one. Though, she didn’t want to at this point.
“I always get what I want.”
He turned on his heel and marched out of the kitchen without a glance backward.
- Writer
