The Trent Declan Challenge
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Collette G. May
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16.1K
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Eliza is a bestselling romance author with a secret: she’s written fantasies she’s barely lived. On tour in Dallas, she meets Trent—an infamous, too-charming hockey star—who offers her a private, no-strings month on his terms… and hers. But when their “just physical” deal turns into a risky game of dares, rules, and public attention, Eliza must decide what she’ll let him into—and what she’s still hiding.
Chapter 1
ELIZA
It was the tattooed angel shimmering in the neon lights above the bar that caught my eye. Or more precisely, the sinewy forearm on which the angel was tattooed attracted my attention. It was one piece of an exotic tapestry that disappeared up the short sleeve of his white T-shirt and stretched over his very impressive bicep.
“I have more on the other arm…”
His voice was like warmed honey, flowing over me in the most mouthwatering way. He leaned closer to be heard over the thumping of the deep bass vibrating around the room, making me blush.
Blush! Like a fifteen-year-old at her first dance! The soft blast of his breath against my cheek sent goosebumps along my skin, and I had to exert a helluva lot of effort not to close my eyes and indulge in the sinful images threatening to flood my mind.
I couldn’t—shouldn’t—give in to temptation. But then he lifted a glass to his mouth, and that was the first chance I had of looking at his face. And oh. My. Jolly Roger!
The man was gorgeous!
The day-old beard barely covered the deep dimples on either side of his full mouth. His smooth nose led to a high forehead and the darkest amber eyes I had ever seen. Eyes that spoke volumes and promised even more. His full lips curled into a mischievous half-smile, making my stomach quiver.
“Hey, Miss Thing! You are not going to miss out on your own celebrations!”
I breathed a sigh of relief when Kevin wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I could always count on my friend for a timely rescue.
“Nope. Just needed to get some water,” I said, holding up my glass to show him.
“Why don’t you bring your water—and your friend—to the table.”
I tilted my head and looked at the stranger watching us with a raised eyebrow. Normally, I wouldn’t have invited him even if Kevin gave the opening, because I wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask him to join us.
I would have had my water and returned to my friends, thinking about the sexy man who invited me to look at his tattoos and wondering if he was flirting with me.
“You’re free to join us,” I said, surprising myself, expecting a polite refusal. I was probably more tipsy than I thought.
“Sure. Why not?” My heart stopped and then stuttered to a rapid staccato at his words. He picked up his drink and scooted off his stool, his hard thighs brushing against mine. I sucked in a sharp breath as something brushed against my hip. Did he just accept my invitation? I stared at Kevin’s satisfied smirk, momentarily frozen in shock.
I gulped down the rest of my water to cool the sudden flame that burned through my body. He was tall, possibly six-one, and even more powerfully built now that he was standing.
He waited for me to get to my feet and placed a gentle hand on the small of my back to guide me through the tables, the heat of his palm searing through the light cotton of my shirt.
With relief, I sank down at our table, and the stranger sat down beside me. This time, I closed my eyes as the fresh scent of his citrus cologne surrounded me, and I got drunk on it.
“I’m Kevin, Eliza’s biggest cheerleader. This is Lori, Iza’s publisher, Rico, her editor, and Vivian, her best friend.” I admired Kevin’s easy way with people, wishing I had half his charisma when surrounded by strangers.
“Hey, everyone. I’m Trent,” he introduced himself. “What are we celebrating?”
He glanced at me with a question in his eyes before glancing at the rest of the group. Rico answered him. “We are only celebrating Iza’s biggest achievement yet.”
As Trent quirked an eyebrow, Lori continued, “Eliza’s latest novel achieved number one on the Austin Herald’s bestsellers list!”
Everyone raised their glasses and cheered loudly. We laughed as we clinked glasses, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being the center of attention and excitement at my achievement. Reese, the bartender, brought over a tray of dark drinks, and I scrunched my nose at the sharp smell of licorice.
“No, Reese! I said almost anything can go, but licorice is a definite no-go!” I scolded lightly.
He stared at me in shock, his blue eyes and mouth so wide that I could see his tongue piercing.
“You always say you’ll try anything once,” Kevin said as he downed the shot, defending the sexy barman he’d been flirting with all night.
“You do?” Trent asked me, the glass hovering at his lips.
I nodded as I shrugged. “You need to try something at least once to know if you like it. Licorice and sushi are both on the list of tried and found to be persona non grata.”
“Ouch.” Trent shuddered, but I noticed he placed his still-full glass back on the tray. “Can we get whiskey sour shots instead?” he asked Reese.
“I’ll do that. But I’ll also do one better.” I raised my eyebrow at him. “No licorice, I promise.”
“So, Iza…,” Kevin said slowly, “if that is the philosophy that you live by, how much of that applies to your books?”
“My, my books?” I asked, pretending not to understand what he was referring to.
“Oh no you don’t, Miss Eliza Boucher!” My supposedly best friend chastised me. Vivian frowned at me while struggling to catch her straw with her tongue to sip loudly at her pink mojito. “You know exactly what he is talking about!”
“What’s he talking about?” Trent leaned over to whisper in my ear, his broad shoulder bumping against mine, sending a shiver of awareness down my spine. This man was a danger to my good senses.
I blushed furiously and mentally rolled my eyes as I stuttered, “I am not—”
“Leave the girl alone,” Lori rescued me as she banged her shot glass onto the table. I loved this woman with all my heart. “Let’s play a game!”
“Yeah!” Rico, Vivian, and Kevin immediately agreed, Trent nodded his head, and I didn’t say anything.
Lori looked around the group, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “If you have never done something, then you down a shot.”
“Yeah!” The rest of the group chorused, but I still had my reservations.
I breathed a deep sigh of relief when I saw Reese at our table with a tray of sours and an interesting-looking glass of something sinful. My supposed friends ordered a bottle of whiskey, and Reese sent a server to bring it over, staying with us to participate in the first round.
“I’m going to get so shit-faced,” I murmured to Trent, sniffing at the shot glass Reese handed me. It smelled appley and disgustingly lovely.
This made Trent chuckle softly, the sound making my stomach quiver.
“You don’t drink too often?” he asked, and this close, I could see that the amber in his eyes was flecked with dark brown. I forgot to breathe.
“Not really,” I managed, frowning at the husky sound of my own voice. “But I have a funny feeling my supposed friends just trapped me into something.”
“I’ll take your shots if it gets too much,” he offered, making me snort with laughter.
“That is such a gentlemanly offer, Trent, but you’ll get shit-faced if this game is what I suspect.”
“What do you mean?” He looked genuinely scared at my words. “What game—”
“Finish your shot if you’ve ever…,” Lori gushed, raising her glass, “made out in public!”
“Do we have to drink the whole glass?” I asked carefully as the group lifted their glasses. Everyone turned to me in confusion. “I mean, I’ve made out…in a public place…but not where there are other people around. Does that count?”
Kevin and Vivian looked at each other. They probably knew more about my life than anyone else, but I don’t share everything with them—especially not the fact that for the last seven years, the only fun I’ve had was at my own hand, with no other assistance, not even from a BOB (Battery Operated Boyfriend).
Rico shrugged before resting an arm across my shoulders. “I’m sure we can do that.”
With reluctant waggles of their heads, the others agreed. So, I drank only half of my shot, which got a laugh from the group.
“My turn!” Kevin said. “Have you ever”—he glanced at me—“had sex in a tent at a camp?”
I tossed my drink back, enjoying the sweetness of the apple sour Reese had given me, and then promptly refilled.
“Have you ever”—Rico smiled—“had oral on the tailgate of a truck?”
I tossed my drink back.
“Have you ever”—Vivian’s turn—“been to a sex club?”
I tossed back my drink. I then realized that I was the only one drinking or even participating.
“Are you kidding me?” Kevin exploded. “You’ve never been to a sex club?”
I shook my head.
“Then how come you were able to write about it in so much detail?” Lori gasped.
I shrugged. “Imagination?”
“You write about stuff you’ve never done?” Trent asked, and I shook my head at him. “How?”
“That is what we’re trying to figure out,” Kevin explained to Trent before turning to me. “You’ve never fucked on a swing chair? Or the back of a pickup? In the pantry at a family event? Beside a lake in the moonlight?”
I shook my head at each of Kevin’s questions as he described scenes from my novels.
“I think you guys are ready for another round of drinks?” Reese asked my very silent group of friends.
Trent leaned over to me as Reese put the glasses on the table. He was so close that I could feel his breath on my cheek, tiny flames flickering to life down my spine. “How are you able to write about things you have never experienced?”
I swallowed the tightness in my throat and tried to make my voice heard over my loudly beating heart. I tried to give a casual shrug. “Imagination. Heavy Mills & Boon influence, and lots of fantasizing?”
“Shit, Za,” he growled, and it vibrated deep into my very inactive core. And then he said something that nearly made me spill my shot. “You’re quite the puzzle I’d love to explore every inch of.”
My breath hitched and refused to leave my lungs. I was unable to look away from the heat in those honeyed depths, infusing my mind, senses, and body in an answering burn. My clothes became cloying, suffocating, scratching my suddenly sensitive skin unbearably.
I understood what a deer felt when faced with a hunter, especially one as beautiful and charismatic as Trent. And, dear living Odin, I wanted to run toward him rather than away. A sacrifice that was willingly offered to him, preferably on a soft bed, with some fancy lingerie, and him in nothing but a loincloth…
