Handling Cynthia: A Second Chances Novella (2 page)

Forget about it. She'll never be yours.

Lust mixed with rage, the sight of her bringing back the humiliation full force. Even if he could get her into bed, he didn't trust himself with her. He didn't know much about BDSM, but he knew you weren't supposed to strike a sub while angry. And he had five years of anger pent up inside him.

The pressure of her hand on his arm made him jump. She winced. The hurt in her eyes at his reaction cut through him. He bit his cheek.
Too bad, sweetheart. I'm over you.
 

"Trent," she murmured, but broke off, eyes fixed on the doorway. He turned to see Rick entering the ballroom with Jordan Callahan by his side. Jordan was tall and blond and dressed in white with a blue sports coat, probably some designer thing. The two stopped at the bar.

"So that's why Rick went for the drinks." A smile lit Cyn's face. "He wanted an excuse to go get Jordy. It's sweet that he's protective. Rick doesn't want strange men taking advantage of him."

"Jordan was an all-star running back. He can take care of himself."

Her smile faded.

"Shit, I'm sorry. He's not that confused kid he was when he first came out. He doesn't show
you
his tough side because he doesn't have to. But he's got one."

Their two friends approached. Rick handed Trent a scotch, and he sucked down a gulp of the smoky liquid, a trail of fire from his tongue to his gut.

Cyn wrapped her arms around Jordan, and he kissed her mouth. "Look at you," he said. "You are even hotter than in high school. Rick must be kicking himself for giving you up."

"Cyn and I work better as friends," Rick said.

Trent clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth. Three fucking years he'd fought his feelings. What would have happened if he'd made a play for Cyn the summer between junior and senior year, when her relationship with Rick had started to break down? Would she have given her virginity to him instead of Rick?

A quick contraction of muscles squeezed his skull, and his vision darkened. He knew the answer. If he'd gone for it with Cyn then, he could have had her. He'd wanted her more. She and Rick had stayed together out of loyalty and force of habit.

His stomach roiled. He had blown it, blown maybe the best chance of his life. All those nights at Rick's parents' house, when Rick and Jordan would go off to watch the game while he and Cyn stayed in the kitchen to talk. She'd explain the latest novel they were reading in English class to him, and he'd explain their science homework to her. She even showed him some of the short stories she'd written. They were full of romance and teenage angst, but they gave him insight into her heart. The one he remembered most was where the girl had finally slept with her boyfriend, only to realize they weren't in love anymore. He wanted to beat the shit out of Rick after he read that one.

But if he'd made a play for Cyn while she was with Rick, he'd have lost Rick's friendship forever. He'd never make an asshole move like that. Even kissing her right after they broke up was questionable—for all the good it had done him. She'd had one foot out of Pennsylvania and wasn't looking back. No, things had played out the way they were supposed to. Cyn wasn't his, and he'd have to accept that.

He stole a glance at her, and dark, hungry eyes met his. His resolve melted. If she made a move, he was done for.

***

Anticipation and want gnawed at Cyn's stomach. Trent's animal gaze pierced her. He looked utterly civilized in his tailored suit and starched shirt, his dark hair smooth and neat. But she sensed the pheromones emanating from him, the raw scent of desire, his lean, toned muscles ready to spring with the right encouragement.

Her breath caught at the sight of Bernadette Holt weaving through the crowd. A chill rushed through her. Bernie had been pretty enough in high school, but now she was gorgeous—long legs, shiny auburn hair, and a red halter dress advertising her assets.

Prickles of pain jabbed her heart as a memory floated in her mind: Trent and Bernie kissing in the back seat of Rick's car on a trip to Hershey Park the summer between junior and senior year; the queasy feeling in her stomach, which she hadn't yet recognized as jealousy.

The nausea came rushing back when Bernie laid her hand on Trent's arm.
Hell, no.
Bernie wasn't getting Trent tonight. She'd had her taste. It was Cyn's turn.

Whirlwind that she was, Bernie took over the conversation, trying to set up Jordan with a classmate she thought was gay. At her side was Max Martinov, the class geek who'd made a fortune with a tech company he'd founded in college. He'd had a huge crush on Bernie in high school, which she'd never returned but used to her advantage. She'd treated him like her personal slave—a role he seemed happy to continue playing, fetching her a drink to soothe her stern look.

Holy shit.
Cyn stared at them, the realization dawning.
She's a Domme. And Max…

Cyn shook her head. What her classmates did in private was none of her business, and she didn't want to know.

She clutched Trent's arm possessively, staking her claim. Bernie could have the tall, blond, and handsome billionaire who served at her pleasure. Trent belonged to Cyn.

His gaze swept over her as a smile touched his lips. Her stomach hollowed out. She ached to kiss those lips, draw him into her mouth. Not here, though, in front of Rick. She would keep it friendly, despite the throbbing pulse of desire.

She let go of Trent's arm but stayed close, the crush of the crowd an excuse to stand with her hips and shoulders pressed to his side. His hand idled in the middle of her back. It felt so good, that quiet gesture of possession.
Yes, make me yours. I want to be yours.

When Bernadette strolled off to greet some newcomers, Max trailing behind, Cyn said in Trent's ear, "Bernie looks gorgeous, doesn't she?"

"Not half as good as you."

His words melted her insides like sunlight on ice. Her world narrowed until Trent was all she could see.

***

Cyn gazed up at him, looking vulnerable and a little lost despite the determined set of her jaw. He'd seen that look a hundred times before, her open heart steeling itself against the pain. He wanted to encompass her in his arms and drive away whatever fears haunted her.

I can take care of you, Cyn
.
Let me love you.
The silent plea echoed in his mind as his eyes drank in the curves of her heart-shaped face. The rational part of his brain yelled at him to chill, but the rest of him was gone, falling into the hot atmosphere of Venus.

She met his gaze, then shivered.

"Cold?" he asked.

"No, but I need food, or that wine will go straight to my head." She grabbed his hand and led him to the appetizer table. Her hand was tiny and soft, almost like a child's, and the sensation of her fingers on his skin wrapped his heart in a choke-hold.

Just for tonight
, he told himself,
for old times' sake
. He'd enjoy this last remnant of friendship without giving anything away. After this weekend, he'd keep his distance. It wouldn't be hard with her living three states away.

He scanned the table and his mouth watered, though whether from desire for Cyn or for food he couldn't say. The mingled scents of kielbasa, Swedish meatballs, and honey barbecued chicken wings made his stomach growl.

He went for the meat while she loaded up on fruit and crudités. She had always been careful about her weight, but he would have to get some protein into her. That plate of roughage was mostly water—it wouldn't keep the alcohol from heading straight to her bloodstream. The last thing he wanted was someone taking advantage of her.

Plates loaded up, they wandered back to their friends. Cyn stood next to Rick at a table, Trent at her other side. He speared a meatball and held it up to her mouth. "One bite won't hurt you."

She hesitated a moment before biting the meatball in half. He ate the other half, smiling at her. There was something decadent about feeding her, providing for her that way.

"Tell me about your books."

She rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't like them. College romance—very sexy and angsty."

"Based on your experience?"

"The angst part, maybe." She patted her lips with a napkin. They were red and kissable. Her gaze fell to her plate. "Truth is, I didn't date much in college. Hookups weren't my thing, and I didn't meet the right guy."

His heart somersaulted. He'd expected Cyn to get plenty of offers. It was stupid, but he was glad she hadn't been involved with many guys.

"I thought I met the right girl," he said, "but I was wrong."

"Emily?"

"We were together two years. In the end, we weren't compatible."
I wanted to tie her up, and she wasn't into that.

"Sorry it didn't work out."

"I'm not." He bit his lip. The words had flown from his mouth the instant he thought them. How could he explain? If it had worked out with Emily, he wouldn't have this chance with Cyn. But what made him think he had a chance now? He'd never seen anyone more beautiful, not even on TV. Sure, she was being nice to him, but she'd been nice before. It didn't mean anything.

Get a grip, loser
.

"Tell me about your thesis," she said.

He bit his cheeks. "You don't want to hear about that."

"I do!"

"You asked for it. Biologic alternatives to petrochemicals. Plastics made from plants."

"Sounds interesting. Fossil fuels won't last forever."

He couldn't tell if she really cared or was being polite.

"That's the idea," he said. "And plant-based products are potentially biodegradable. The challenge is, if we divert too much farmland away from the food supply, we could end up with a global food shortage. I'm exploring oceanic sources."

"You mean like algae?"

"One possibility." He smiled. Maybe she really was interested. "The fish oil pills people take? The oil originates with the plants."

"Sounds like ground-breaking work."

"That's me, saving the world."

She touched his hand, and a tingle jetted up his spine. "Don't put yourself down because you're smart. Smart is sexy."

"Not as sexy as Max's eight hundred million."

"What, you're jealous? You were hoping to hook up with Bernie again?"

"Bernie? No." He shook his head to emphasize the point. "She and I haven't been a thing since…well, we were never a thing. All we had in common were hormones and proximity."

"I'm sure she'd love to hear you say that."

"Ask her. She was never in love with me, any more than I was with her."

The corners of her mouth turned down. "That's sad."

"I didn't think so at the time. I was getting laid on a regular basis. At eighteen, that's what mattered most."

His feeble attempt at a joke fell flat. She nodded, eyes distant. He wasn't even sure she'd heard him above the music. Which was good because, now that he thought of it, it didn't do much for his prospects with Cyn to dis his ex. Or to talk about how much sex they'd had. Not like Cyn didn't know, but reminding her about his past with Bernie wouldn't help the situation.

He chewed the insides of his cheeks, reminding himself to stop thinking like Cyn was a possibility for him. He was barely holding onto control now. His dick was at war with his brain, and his dick was winning. He wouldn't turn her down, but if Cyn wanted him, she'd have to make a move. He was done chasing the girl who had always held herself just out of reach.

What would he do if he got her alone, and those dark urges surfaced?

Maybe she'd play along.

He pushed away the notion. He couldn't take it if she looked at him the way Emily had when he'd suggested tying her to the bed. Like he was some kind of freak.

"I wish we'd been smarter then." Cyn's voice broke through his meditation. It was soft and wistful, like a song in minor key. "Girls are obsessed with love, and boys with sex. In high school, kids aren't ready for either."

His chest tightened. "Are you sorry? About you and Rick?"

Her gentle laugh reached his ears despite the rumbling bass of the dance music. "I'm glad my first time wasn't with some loser who never called me again. That's what happened to my roommate freshman year." She shook her head. "Girls are so dumb."

"No. Guys are jerks."

She smiled. "Maybe a little of both?"

In the dim light of the hotel ballroom, he clutched her hand. When Cyn had moved to town sophomore year, the kids had seen her as an outsider, and that never completely went away. "High school wasn't a great time for you, I guess."

"It wasn't all bad." She grinned. "The best thing about dating Rick was getting you and Jordan as part of the package."

"The fearsome foursome."

"I can't believe I ever went along with calling us that! I was so naïve—I didn't have a clue about the double entendre."

"Jordy was the only one who did, at first."

"I guess he figured a
ménage a quatre
would be one way he could get with Rick," Cyn said with a smile.