Love In the Red Zone (Connecticut Kings Book 1) (54 page)

I heard when the alarm chimed, and fresh hot sheets of tears shot from my eyes with each leap he took down the hall. The moment he hit the threshold of the French doors, Trent hit the light, blinding me. Once I was able to clear my vision enough to make out his fit body in all black with platinum ropes and chains hanging from his neck, I caught his eyes scanning the mountain of bags I managed to gather in my fit of anger. He sucked in a heavy breath before his heavy eyes swung over to me. His chin hung low, gaze holding regret with reckless determination pushing through. The lights went off and then I felt the weight of him, all of him all over me.

The sharp edges of his medallions pricking my chest. His big cold hands pushing my gown over my hips. Then his tongue dove into my mouth as his hips shuffled to make room between my tense thighs. I instinctively opened for him. The usual decadent aroma of him was hidden beneath the scents of booze, cigars, weed, and cheap perfume. His tongue held a trace of brandy, a fragrance I was used to. And I didn’t know if that was a bad thing to explain his behavior tonight. Why would a newlywed want to be draped in women who only wanted the celebrity of Trent Bailey, the image? Why did he keep his
apparent
affair with Brielle from me? It was clear to me he’d touched her soul at some point. Just like he rocked mine.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in my mouth, lips still busy caressing my own. “So fucking sorry!”

My back arched from the mattress into his demanding touch, throat squeezing air from my crushed lungs, producing a squeal. A cry burgeoning from the depths of my soul. Pain rose like bile from my belly. I’d done it. I lost control of myself. Rendered my heart to a man unworthy of it. Of my all. 

Another hot torrent of tears sprang from my eyes. Trent’s mouth was busy on mine, his hands busy below. Out of nowhere, I started punching him anywhere I could get a punch to land. My anger grew in spades now, at even my body for still wanting him. Trent collected my wrists with his hands, bringing my arms over my head, holding them there with one palm. His other cupped my chin, forcing me still to hear him.

“I can be better,” he shrieked painfully over me. “I
am
better for you!”

“No, you’re not!” I countered breathlessly, his weight was so heavy, imposing. “You wanted marriage for this? To hurt and embarrass me?”

“No!” I felt the warmth of the hard slab of muscle positioned at my cleft. “I did it because I need you. I need you to hold me down. I need you when they think they know me and try to get close. I need you to cover me and”—I heard the crack in his chords. The cry—“keep them away.”

Then he breached me, slid into my crying walls that mirrored my face: slippery and glistening. That familiar fullness aroused me, forcing me to produce more juices for him. This couldn’t be. An hour ago, I was aching from his betrayal. Now, my pussy ached for his fullness. Trent kissed my tears as his hard body began to roll over me sinuously, reminding me of his athletic keenness. 

How could he betray me less than a week after promising me forever? He was so insistent on marriage. And could I withstand being a hidden wife? We agreed to keeping it from the public, but was this the price I had to pay for secrecy? Did he think the hidden marriage license made it okay to act like a complete ass when away from home?

What scared me the most was my reaction to seeing the video. Initially, my typical rash, over-the-top kicked in with packing my and Kyree’s things and taking pictures of them being stacked by the door. But the moment came for me to hit send on the text and I froze, unable to breathe. My first thought was what leaving would do. It would break my heart. I didn’t want life without Trent. I belonged to him. My heart had already been sold for his keeping. Forever.

I felt the lightening in my core. My hips pushed up to meet his.

How could I yield to the shards of pleasure from his thrusts? Why did I feel his regret with each roll of his hips, each lapping of his tongue in my mouth and against my wet and contorted face? I’d felt betrayal like this before, but it was never accompanied by the pain only this man could bring me. What made Trent so different? I could give a damn about the money or lifestyle, I wanted the man: his heart, his generous spirit, his championing support. I wanted to protect his betrayed heart until I left this earth.  

Who could want that in a man who could rip their soul into shreds the moment he entered an arena that swelled his ego the moment he crossed over the township line? When here, Trent and I fused souls. We repaired each other’s broken spirits, carried the banner of healing to our wounded hearts. 

I felt him thickening inside of me. His shirt now drenched in sweat as Trent tossed his head back, giving into the torrential release of pleasure.

“Protect me, Jade!” he grunted with squeezed eyes as he shot heatedly into me.

The wings of his back flexed as he suspended over me, holding my arms above my head. I lifted my thighs, crossing them around his back, pushed my pelvis into his plunges, and squeezed him into me. As he came, I felt intoxicated by his release into me. I felt his muscles go rigid around me and his face hardened in distress. Trent was now vulnerable. Like me always.

“I need you to protect me, too! I can’t be the only one guarding our peace, Trent.” I felt my lips press against my teeth. “It comes natural, yes, but it’s an exhausting job for even me. You vowed to always conduct yourself as a reflection of our love. I saw no hint of your commitment to me while you were up there on stage.”

He shook his head and roughly ran his hands down his face. “That’s what’s crazy, there
was
a reflection of our love while I was there. It was just poor judgment.”

My forehead crumpled in confusion. “That makes no sense.”

Trent’s determined eyes were on me. “I was comfortable, felt a confidence I never really had. That was my first time feeling completely relaxed around her. With Brielle you never know who you’ll get. But tonight, it didn’t matter. I was happy for once, like undeniably content…fucking ecstatic. Yeah, we’re on a record breaking winning streak, but I’m married to a woman who provides a…blanket of protection even when she’s far away. That’s not a secret. It’s not hidden from me. I felt secure knowing it didn’t matter that all those people were around me celebrating something superficial, including her. I had something secure in here”—he pounded his chest—“because I have you.”

The tears sprouted again. I winced internally at the rawness of that declaration. Trent wasn’t good at letting people in, much less, exposing his innermost to prove you were in.

“That weakens the core of my protection, Trent. I can only protect what I feel I have. You didn’t look like ‘mine’ up there,” I cried into my hand, unable to look at him, I could feel his pain emanating from him.    

“It was wrong. I’m wrong. That security is just as tricky as ego. It makes you feel invincible and take risks that could get you in dangerous trouble. I’m sorry, Jade. I swear, I am.”

I didn’t understand why well enough to explain, but the tears stopped. My chest expanded at his earnest attempt at repentance.

“I hate her,” I swore, feeling no older than Kyree. “I swear I do! I deleted every one of her songs from my iTunes! That bitch better not let me run up on her—”

The air from my lungs was stolen when Trent pushed back from the shoulders and yanked my legs up in the air in the rapid sequence. His face was in my sex, and tongue swiping my clitoris. My throat worked without my prompting to swallow. I glanced down to see him on all four over me, His shirt still on, jeans around his knees, as he kicked his boots off. The medallions hanging from his neck slapped into the backs of my thighs and butt. He pushed his stiff tongue into my nub and I knew what he was doing.

Trent wanted me to come fast, hard, and without effort. His long arms shot up to my tits and his hands massaged their way to my tingling nipples. His thumbs circled before flickering the peaks. I understood in an instant, it was his way of quieting my threats. Soothing my rage. My first thought was to call him out on it. But that quiet yet powerful whisper in the recesses of my psyche told me to yield to my husband’s desire to have me escape the pain of his error. In no time I was writhing beneath him, my groin quickened with the collection of pleasure that shot through every cell in my body when I exploded in his face. A double entendre action: he was on his knees, submitting to me, forcing me to spill out on his face. 

Trent carried me from the bed and led me to the shower where he stripped us and pulled me underneath the shooting faucets. He wrapped his long and corded arms around me and breathed into my neck. Before long his tongue was in my mouth, and I welcomed him in helplessly. He reached behind me for the body wash. Then his hands were all over spreading the lathered bubbles on our pinned bodies as I stood on my toes, kissing him in between small breaths. I loved this man, and he loved me. Even now, when I could question his sexual deeds after his earlier mishap, I understood him.

Trent needed to come home where we’d established a private oasis of peace. It was our protective asylum where we originally cultivated our love. It’s where we instantly received intimacy. His desire for sex tonight was the tool he used to unman me so he could refuel from what he perceived to be my strength. And I gave it to him freely. I wanted to cocoon him in the realm of security he deserved, but never received.

So, when he lifted me from the floor, backed me against the wall, and wrapped my legs around his tapered waist, I easily received him when he sunk into my core. In here, Trent was home in more than one way. Together, we’d have to come up with a plan for him to feel secure outside of these walls…of his home. But in the walls of my heart and sex is where he would spend the remainder of his days as my husband.  

“Who is she to you?” I whispered into the darkened room.

I could feel Trent shift next to me on the bed. “No one anymore.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Trent!” I spoke through gritted teeth. “There’s been too much I’ve allowed to go unanswered. So many burning questions I’ve been wanting to ask, but feared to because of you not trusting me. And no
w…
” I hesitated. “I’m your wife.”

“You are,” he agreed softly. “You can”—he swallowed hard—“ask me anything.” It was another mark of his distrust.

“How long were you with Brielle?”

“On and off for like four years—off when I was locked down, of course,” he supplied bitterly.

“But on and off before.” I breathed, unable to believe I was married to the man Brielle had written a Grammy-winning song about. It was unreal and made me question almost everything now that I’d come down from the shocking pain of discovering it. “Were you in love with her?”

“I loved her. She was a decent human being.”

“Don’t save my feelings,” I gritted.

“I’m in love with you. The only woman who make me sick with the thought of her being with another man. The only one I feel the need to protect as much as she protects me. Brielle was fun before I pulled the blinders off. We had good times, but she wasn’
t…
stable for me.”

“Am I stable for you because I’m always here in your home?”

“You’re stable for me because you’re always the same intense blazing woman every time I come home, I call, and when we’re away. Brielle helped me design the mansion and even paid to have it decorated, but it never had this homey feeling and realness until you came.”

“Why did you finally break it off with her?”

Trent went to detailing a threesome between him, Brielle, and the other woman trying to extort them. It was a heady story no Brielle fan should have to bear. I couldn’t believe we were speaking of the same person: she always maintained a good girl image.

“That threesome setup exposed a lot of her to me,” he explained. “That’s when the blinders came off and I saw things for what they were. Nobody likes to be fooled, especially a man raised in this game. I’ve seen all types of game from women, was trained to peep it. It messed me up that I missed that one. You don’t have to be in love with someone to be hurt by them.”

“How did you survive two years after losing your endorsements and going to prison?”

I’d heard rumors about Trent losing big while doing a lengthy Internet search last winter after learning about his time away, but no one reported him actually hitting rock bottom.

“I was always smart with my money. My biggest purchases were the properties, and I bought them out the gate when I got signed and the endorsements started rolling in. But even before I got arrested, I was set up on an annual salary. Eighty grand was millions for a poor kid from Camden. After I learned how much private planes, yachts, and villas cost for a dozen people—because you know when you’re paid everybody wanna roll—I opted out, only splurging on special occasions like my birthday or when I got a new endorsement deal. I got a tight financial team around me and banked most of my money. Of course, it costs to have smart people working for you, but once this house got done, I laid low.”