Page 30 of Marry Me Tomorrow
“So, which room would you prefer to sleep in?” Trent says, then quickly adds. “By yourself, I mean. And not that kind of sleeping.” His face turns red.
I laugh. “I know what you mean. I liked the forest view. I’ll take that one,” I say, picturing snow-covered trees in winter or catching sight of an owl at night.
“Good choice,” Trent says with a small smile, his gaze distant. He clears his throat. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to throw this shirt in the wash and grab a clean one.”
“Alright,” I reply. After he leaves, I enter the soon-to-be-my room and take a moment to flop onto the bed with a sigh. In three weeks, this kind, sweet man will be my husband. How did my life change so quickly? So much has changed from that first morning we met. I feel like I blinked and now I have a job and am engaged and Grandpa Henry is going to be taken care of.
“So, what do you think?” Trent asks, stepping into the doorway while working on buttoning a clean shirt. My thoughts scatter at the sight of him—his shirt is open, revealing a sculpted chest. I stand and take a step toward him.
“I like you,” I blurt, then immediately backtrack. “I mean, I like it. The room. The house. The whole package is great.” I drop back onto the bed, groaning inwardly. Why can’t the ground swallow me whole?
“I’m glad you like the room. And the house. And . . . I like you too,” he says softly.
My heart stutters. “You do?” I ask, half-propped up on my elbows.
“Yeah. I couldn’t have asked for a nicer person to go through a mutually beneficial marriage with,” he replies, his sincerity making my chest ache.
Right. He likes me as a person. Of course.
“You missed a button,” I say, rolling off the bed and stepping close to him. I point to his chest. “Here, let me help. It’s my fault you had to change anyway.” My fingers work quickly, brushing against his skin. When I feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat, I freeze.
I glance up, and our eyes lock. The intensity in his gaze sends a jolt through me. His eyes flicker to my lips, a silent question hanging between us.
Screw it, I’m going to marry the guy in three weeks anyway.
I lean in, closing the distance. His lips are soft and still for a moment, and I’m about to pull back in panic when he relaxes, one hand cupping my cheek as the other slides to the small of my back.
His kiss deepens, his touch anchoring me as my arms circle his neck. The warmth of his body, the strength in his hold—it’s intoxicating. I press closer, savoring the way he feels against me. For now, in this moment, he’s mine.
His lips are soft and delicious against mine. I didn’t know how he would react, but he’s reacting like he wanted this too, maybe as much as I did. I don’t know if it’s the charged energy between us with the upcoming wedding or what, but I am all for it. I can feel the muscles under his shirt, and it sends a thrill through me.
This sexy specimen of a man is going to be my husband soon, and I get to kiss him. I am kissing him. I don’t know what our relationship will look like when we are married because it’s only supposed to be for a short while. But for now, in this moment, he’s mine.
When he pulls back, his forehead resting against mine, I’m breathless. “Jenny,” he says, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . .”
“I kissed you, remember?” I say, my voice softer than I expected. Stepping back, I tilt my head up to meet Trent’s eyes, those beautiful, warm eyes that flicker in the dim light of the room with every shade of blue. “And I don’t regret it. Not one bit.”
His lips twitch into a smile, equal parts mischief and tenderness. “Is that so?”
“Yes, that’s so,” I reply, my own lips curving up despite the racing of my heart.
“Well,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a deep, velvety tone that sends a shiver up my spine. “Then I guess it would be okay if I did this . . .”
Before I can process his words, he closes the distance between us, his lips crashing into mine with a fervor that ignites every nerve in my body. This kiss is nothing like the tentative one we shared just moments ago—it’s deeper, more deliberate, and brimming with unspoken emotion. The sheer intensity of it makes my knees buckle, but Trent’s arms wrap firmly around my waist, holding me steady.
I grip his shoulders, clinging to him as if he’s the only solid thing in the universe. His warmth radiates through his shirt, and I can feel the strength in his arms as they pull me closer. It’s like he’s tethering me to him, and I have no intention of letting go.
The kiss consumes me, drowning out everything else. The faint creak of the floorboards, the chirp of crickets outside, the cool night air seeping through the windows—it all fades until there’s nothing but Trent. His lips move against mine with an urgency that sets my pulse racing, and I can’t help but melt into him.
This kiss isn’t just passion; it’s a question, a promise, a fire that burns through every doubt I’ve ever had. If I could only have this moment, I’d pour everything into it. I wonder if he feels the same, if he’s silently carving out a space for me in his heart the way I am for him.
Time seems to blur, and I lose myself in the taste and feel of him. His scent surrounds me—a mix of cedar, lake water, and something uniquely Trent that I know I’ll never forget. His hand moves to the small of my back again, pressing me flush against him, while the other tangles in my hair, sending sparks shooting down my spine.
Eventually, Trent pulls back just enough to trail kisses along my cheek, his stubble brushing against my skin. His lips find my neck, and my breath catches as he lingers there, pressing a kiss just below my collarbone. The sensation is electric, and a soft gasp escapes my lips before I can stop it.
If my knees were weak before, now they’re jelly. A warm, tingling heat spreads through me, and I grip his shoulders tighter, leaning into him for support.
“I think . . .” I manage to stammer between breaths, my voice barely above a whisper, “I think I’m going to like this marriage. A lot.”
