Page 79 of Power Play Rivals
These rules were purposely set in place for a reason, but apparently, Trent won’t be satisfied until I break each and every one of them for him.
He even met my mother, for Christ’s sake. How the hell did I let that happen?
I gently tap my fist on my temple, hoping to ease the headache that is Trent Nichols.
It’s only when I hear the faint sound of a shower being turned on that my eyelids swing open. Although his intoxicating, masculine scent still lingers in the air around me, when I look to the left side of the bed, I’m relieved to find it empty. I then turn to the other side to find a bathroom door left ajar, leaving me to conclude that Trent must have left me a mere few minutes ago to take his early morning shower. After all the dirty things he did to me last night, I could definitely use one, too.
You could always jump in with him.
I hate that I hesitate for a few seconds, actually considering joining Trent.
My coochie has no self-preservation whatsoever. If she did, I wouldn’t have let him corrupt me last night.
Luckily, my head is in charge right now, and I have no intention of sticking around to let him have another go at me.
Lord knows it wouldn’t take much persuading on his part.
Ever so carefully, I get out of bed and search for my dress, only to find it torn to rags on his bedroom floor.
Fucker owes me five thousand dollars for it.
You weren’t complaining when he tore it off you last night.
Argh.
I have half a mind to slap my horny coochie to show her who’s boss, but then I remember Trent did that and then some last night, and she loved every second of his abuse.
“Okay. Think Piper. Think. How are you going to get out of this mess?” I mumble to myself, scanning his room for something I could wear to get out of here.
When I see his tux coat and white shirt lying on the floor, I quickly make a judgment call and put them on. The only downside to this plan is that I’m forced to be cocooned in his scent a little longer. However, it’s a small price to pay considering the alternative, which is Trent walking out of the shower, all dripping wet and naked, leaving me unable to resist jumping his bones on the spot. There must be a chemical imbalance in me that gets triggered by his pheromones, which makes me helpless to keep my hands off him.
Or perhaps you like him.
Like, like him, like him.
Great. Now my coochie traveled back in time to junior high, wanting to go steady with the arrogant jerk.
I have a newfound sympathy for men who are easily led around by their dicks. My coochie is just as reckless and irresponsible as they are.
Argh.
The faster I get out of here, the better.
I refuse to fall victim to my desires. I’m stronger than that shit.
No, you’re not. Not when it comes to Trent.
“You’re starting to piss me off,” I whisper in annoyance, looking down at my hoohaa.
Before she has time to give me any more lip—no pun intended—I put on my Louboutins, grab my clutch, and hightail it out of there. But when I start to pass by Trent’s bathroom door, I hesitate, craving one more glimpse of the infuriating man. My heart jackhammers in my chest as I watch his strong hands wash away the shampoo from his sleek, jet-black hair. Droplets of water pour down the length of his back, kissing the black-inked flames tattooed on his olive-toned skin. I just stand there and admire the rising phoenix stretching its wings amidst the fire that wants to consume it, in awe of its resilience and determination to rise above the flames.
I used to believe that Trent was machiavellian enough to have a tattoo of Lucifer on his back, but in reality, the image he chose to decorate his skin is a far better representation of him.
The rising phoenix symbolizes faith in overcoming even the most profound adversities, illustrating endurance and rebirth.
I’ve never met a man more determined to get his way than Trent. When he wants something, he goes after it, and come hell or high water, he always gets what he wants.
And apparently, what he wants… is me.