He seems to find my anguish comical because he’s laughing silently, his forehead resting against my chest as his shoulders shake. “Fuck, Jamie,” he whispers, and then his knee’s between my legs, spreading them apart as he lifts me by my waist, settling my ass on the hood of the four-wheeler. It was such a swift, effortless move, I didn’t even have time to protest before his hardness presses to my center, and his hands glides up my sides, his thumb brushing the bottoms of my breasts. “I don’t hate you,” he says. “But I hate that I miss you.” He pulls back, just enough to look in my eyes, hold my stare. And I see it now, the same thing I saw the first time I looked in his eyes. Green, like a lively forest. But when he looks at you—really looks at you—there’s nothing alive about his stare.
Uncertainty crawls through my bloodline and up my throat, squeezing my airways shut.
Holden blinks once, twice, and then over and over again as if just coming out of a daze. Finally, his throat moves with his swallow as he releases me completely, leaving me empty and discarded.
Hot and cold.
“Does he know you’re here?”
I was wondering when this would come up. I was hoping for never, but here we are. I try to think of the right thing to say. Dean doesn’t know I’m here, but that’s nothing new. He never knows where I am. And that’s okay. Because he knows who I am. “He has a name.”
Clearly, that was the wrong answer because Holden says, his teeth gritted and his jaw tight, “Yeah?” His eyes flash dark as he leans in again. “Do you scream it when he fucks you?”
I push him away with a heavy sigh and slide off the four-wheeler. “Bye, Holden.”
I’m already walking away when he says, “Would you relax? I’m just playing.”
Over my shoulder, I reply, “Funny. I didn’t realize I was part of your game.”
I’ve only taken a few steps when he calls out, “Have you had lunch?”
I stop in my tracks and turn to him.
Hands shoved in his pockets, a hint of a smile curves his lips as he nods toward the four-wheeler. “Hop on.”
The moment I step inside Holden’s house, I’m overwhelmed by the smell of something amazing. “What is that?” I ask, sniffing the air.
“Lasagna.” He moves behind the kitchen counter and opens the oven, amplifying the scent. “Well, vegan lasagna… and it’s not quite done yet.”
“You turned vegan?” I ask, looking around his house. I wasn’t exactly in the best mental state when I came here the first time, so I didn’t take a lot of it in. Not that there’s a lot to see. “If I remember correctly, you basically lived off burgers and steak.”
Holden chuckles, the single sound making my heart skip a beat. “Not strictly,” he says, opening the fridge. “But I don’t mind it sometimes.” He pulls out a bunch of items from the fridge, then dumps them on the counter, ready to make what I assume is a salad.
Walking toward the kitchen, I ask, “When did you learn to cook?” There are pictures on the fridge, mainly of Holden and a girl I recognize as Mia with a little boy whose smile brings out my own.
“Mia, mainly,” Holden answers, chopping away. “When I was in college, I kind of had this apartment, and she and Benny would come to visit whenever they were free.”
“Oh yeah,” I say, nodding even though we’re back to back and he can’t see me. “The apartment her dad bought you?”
The chopping stops, and I pinch my eyes shut. Fuck.
“How did you know about the apartment?”
My panic has me opening the fridge for no reason at all. “Huh?”
I can feel his eyes on the back of my head. “I didn’t know about the apartment until after you left, so… how do you know about it?”
I swallow. Hard. “I just assumed,” I lie. “I mean… with the whole Joseph and your mom thing, and the truck and…” and fuck, fuck, fuck.
He’s quiet a long moment. Then, finally, he says, “Makes sense.” I release the breath I’d been holding, and the chopping begins again. “You think we should set up inside or outside?”
“Outside.” I slowly turn to him. “For sure.”
“I should’ve known you’d say that.” He points the knife to the opposite side of the counter. “There’s some picnic stuff in the cupboard underneath if you want to set up.”
I hide my smile as I move around him, find what I need, and make my way outside. It’s only when I’ve spread the blanket out a few feet from his front door that I let my grin come full force. The thought of sitting down and having a decent conversation with him eases a longing I’ve held on to for way too long. I’ve wished for a moment like this, just the two of us, so that we can talk. So he can tell me everything he’s done the past five years, and maybe—if he wants me to—I can do the same.
I set up the plastic setting for two and grab some flowers from the garden to put in one of the clear glasses. I place it in the middle of the blanket and stand, my smile getting wider when I take in my work. With a skip in my step, I make my way back inside and stop right beside him. “What else can I help with?” I ask, bouncing on my toes.
He freezes mid-movement, his eyes sparking with an emotion I can’t quite decipher. He drops the knife and moves close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off of him, see the way his t-shirt stretches across his broad chest with every inhale, every exhale.
I keep my eyes on his, hoping he doesn’t notice my struggle for air, especially when he reaches up, his fingers shifting the loose strands of hair from my face to behind my ear. My eyes drift shut when the warmth of his palm floats along my jaw. He whispers my name as his forehead meets mine, his hands gentle on my hips, and the only thing I can think to say is, “What are you doing?”
His cheek brushes my temple when he moves his mouth to my ear. “What do you want me to do?”
I stutter a breath, open my eyes to his. “What do you want to do?”
“Kiss you.” His rough hands move from my waist, up my back, below my top, stopping at my nape. He gently squeezes there, holding me in place, and I can hear each one of my shallow breaths passing my lips, making my mouth dry. “But if I kiss you,” he murmurs, “we both know I won’t be able to stop there. I’ll have to taste you, fuck you. Is that what you want?”
Before I can answer, my phone rings, vibrating on the counter right beside me. I know who it is by the ringtone, but Holden... his gaze drops to the phone, and I can see the moment it registers for him. “Answer it,” he demands, stepping closer, blocking me in, and keeping me in my place.
His hardness presses to my stomach—proving I’m not the only one lost in our lust, our desire. “No.”
He drops his hand from the back of my neck and taps my phone, putting an end to the ringing. Just when I think he’s declined the call, Dean’s voice blasts through the air, splitting the tension between us. “Hey, Jamie.”
Before I can answer, Holden is kissing me. And it’s not forceful, or commanding. It’s soft, and it’s gentle—like his hands on my face—and when our tongues meet, a quiet moan moves from his lips to mine. He drops a hand, moving it lower down my body, between my breasts, to my bare stomach, and I instinctively shift my hips forward while I bite down on his lip, eliciting another groan. He finds the throbbing spot between my legs, runs a single finger along my slit.