Trent's fingers were featherlight as he trailed them up and down my bare arm, leaving a path of goose bumps. I shivered. He grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over us, his lips grazing across my shoulder in the most delicious way.
"Am I allowed to talk now?" he asked.
I laughed and snuggled closer. He was stretched out behind me, head propped in his hand. Taking his hand that rested on my stomach, I threaded our fingers and squeezed gently. "I suppose," I said, a hint of humor in my tone.
"What did I do in your dream to piss you off?" he asked in between placing kisses along my shoulder and neck.
"What makes you think you did anything?" I asked, still not sure I was ready to talk about this. I didn't want all those emotions to resurface, not when I'd just finally gotten myself under control.