Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
SELENE
When I wake up, it feels as if I’ve slammed my head against a brick wall. Repeatedly.
My mind is alive, but my world is black. It takes me several seconds and all the strength I have to crack my eyes open.
A sharp hiss passes between my teeth when I do. Bright, obnoxious rays of sunshine beam through the large, glass window I’m facing. A shadowy figure sits in front of it. He’s draped in sunshine, surrounded by yellow and white. I lift my hand and block it out on a groan.
“Morning, Wallflower.” Holt’s gravelly voice breaks the silence.
“Where am I?” I ask, rolling onto my back and covering my eyes with my hand.
“My bed.”
“Seriously?” I ask, rolling my head back to face him. That motion alone makes me feel sick again. I hold back a gag.
“Here. Take this.” Holt sits up from the chair he’s sitting in and hands me a glass of ice water and two white pills.
“How did I get here?” I ask after the pills make their way down my throat. I’m afraid I might throw them back up unless I get some food in my system soon. “What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” The bed sinks as he sits on the edge beside me.
I sit up until my back rests against the headboard. Fragments of last night come crashing into my hungover brain.
Slipping into Julianna’s newly-bought, sparkly dress.
Going to the bar. Refusing to think about Holt.
Telling the girls I would only have one drink.
Seeing the coconut cake on the dessert menu.
Ordering six shots of tequila. Downing them back to back.
Julianna’s driver taking me home. Stumbling into my apartment, then suddenly feeling alone.
Walking back outside to call Holt. Him showing up at my front step.
“I remember parts,” I mutter, my cheeks reddening. I look him in the eye. “I remember you were standing inside my apartment with me.”
My stomach growls loudly. Fuck. Could I be any more embarrassing?
“Not for long,” Holt says, the corner of his mouth lifting. He leans forward and grabs a small plate of toast from the nightstand. He picks up the top triangle and holds it in front of my mouth. “Eat.”
I swallow loudly. Heat burns across my body.
It could be from the intense sun. We are closer to it, after all, with how tall Holt’s building is.
Or it could be the look in his blue eyes, telling me that if I don’t take a bite of the toast he’s offering, he might finally use that punishment he promised me.
Leaning forward, I take a bite.
He watches me intensely, his mouth parting as my teeth sink into the crusty wheat slice. It feels good to sit back and chew it, letting it soak up whatever alcohol remains in my body.
“You passed out on me,” he says, watching me take another bite. “I decided to bring you here so I could watch over you better. I’m glad I did because…”
Then it hits me. The shame. The embarrassment. For some reason, the memories of after I passed out against Holt in my apartment aren’t as clear. My neck prickles with the thought of what could have happened.
Frantically, I look around, catching the shimmering sequins of my dress on the end of the bed. As if my mind is finally catching up to my situation, I look down at my body. I’m wearing an oversized, black T-shirt.
“Oh, God.” I slap my hands to my cheeks, then my forehead. I can’t even look at Holt. “Did we have sex?”
Holt chuckles, pulling my hand away from my face. “No, Wallflower. I’m not down with necrophilia. I prefer my women conscious, sober, and consenting.”
“Oh.” I sigh, then I see the hurt flash across his face. His eyes soften and his tiny smirk disappears. I wrap my hand over his. “Not that I thought you ever would. I’m just confused.” I look down at his shirt. “How did I…?”
“Take another bite,” he orders, shoving the half-eaten slice toward me again.
I do as he says, staring into his eyes the entire time. I’m working it over in my mouth when he continues.
“When I brought you home, I was going to lay you down here, but you stirred in my arms, and when I realized you were on the verge of throwing up, I tried to run to the bathroom but didn’t make it in time.
You got some on your dress.” He places the plate on the nightstand, scooting noticeably closer to me.
He tucks my hair behind my ear. “I didn’t think you’d want to sleep in your vomit-covered dress. ”
“No,” I chuckle, resting my head in my hand. “I wouldn’t have. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“But that means you saw…” Now my cheeks are hot. In fact, my entire face is on fire.
“Yes.” His eyes darken. “Saw your little white lacy number with the embroidered flowers?”
“Oh, God,” I groan, hanging my head in shame.
Holt’s fingers hook under my chin, luring me back up to face him. “I didn’t touch, but I won’t lie and say it wasn’t impossible to look away. I only let my eyes linger for a half second before slipping my T-shirt over your head.”
“Thank you for being kind and helping me.” I tilt my head to the side, this conversation confusing me further. “Although, I should probably get home and brush my teeth. I feel disgusting.” I start to shift under the blanket. “I’ve caused you enough trouble as it is.”
He quickly catches my hand. “You aren’t trouble, Selene.”
I sigh, dropping my shoulders. “You drove all the way to my place, then you had to carry me home, and I was a mess.”
He places his finger to my mouth, stopping me from talking. Electric jolts crack across my lips at his touch. “I didn’t have to do anything.”
It’s difficult to breathe when he’s touching me this way.
I’m a mess. A complete mess. The way I look on the outside is exactly how I feel on the inside.
I’m almost certain my hair looks like a fucking rat’s nest and my breath smells of a lovely concoction of vomit and tequila, but I can’t ignore the way Holt’s looking at me like I’m the only person he wants to look at for the rest of his days. It’s insane. I must be delusional.
“Why are you so resistant to receiving help?” he asks. “Do you find it hard to believe that I care about you and your wellbeing?”
“No, it isn’t that.” I’m lying. It is hard to believe anyone would care about me. Love is for the fucking birds.
“Listen, Wallflower,” he whispers, leaning forward. “Keep up with the lies, and I may just punish you after all.”
He brings his mouth close to mine, and I snap my lips together. I can’t kiss him when I can still taste last night on my tongue. At least let me brush my teeth first.
I swallow, naively believing it will help. “What type of punishment? You’ve said this before.”
“Every time I catch you in a lie, I’ll take you over my knee and spank that perfect, round ass of yours.”
A sharp breath of air hits the back of my throat. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would.” His voice deepens, tearing down the walls I’ve built for myself. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been spanked before, Wallflower.”
“No,” I clip out. “I haven’t.”
He grins. He can tell it isn’t a lie. “We might just have to change that then. With your permission, of course.”
“I don’t think I could. Spanking seems ridiculous.”
He scoots impossibly closer, placing a hand on the other side of my leg. He’s taking up all the space between us. “We’ll see if you’re saying that afterward. You’ll be surprised what a spanking can do.”
“We’ll see about that.” I can’t stop looking at him.
“Fine.” He pops a brow. “But I’ll tell you this: just say the word and we’ll put us both out of this misery of pretending.”
“Pretending what?”
“Pretending we don’t want each other.”
He’s gorgeous in this morning sun. I want to grab his face and slam his lips to mine.
I want to tell him a ridiculous lie—one he will recognize in an instant.
Like how the sky is green and the grass is blue just to see what it would feel to have his hand cracking across the sensitive skin on my ass, but I don’t.
My breath is absolutely criminal at this point.
He must read my mind when he says, “I have an extra toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet.”
“I have a perfectly good toothbrush at home,” I whisper, cursing my breath brushing across his lips.
“Stay.” One word. It’s the only word needed to make the blood drain to my toes.
“I can’t.”
“Do you have work today?”
“No.”
“Writing?”
“No.”
His eyes trail from my mouth to my eyes. “We’ll let that first lie slide of you saying you can’t since you haven’t given the go ahead yet on letting me spank you. But please stay, Wallflower.”
“I… shouldn’t.”
I’ve spent years telling myself feelings weren’t for me.
Falling for someone isn’t worth the risk that comes with it.
The heartbreak. The betrayal. The death.
What is there to show for it if in the end it turns out to all be a lie?
Is the risk truly worth the reward? But Holt has managed to tear down every single one of my beliefs on falling in love.
He’s testing me, making me believe my heart isn’t completely dead.
Logic tells me not to stay. To go home full of shame and pretend the time with him hasn’t meant anything. But that would be the biggest lie I’ve ever told myself.
“Stay here today,” he says, bringing his mouth dangerously close to mine. I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone as much as I do him. “You can shower. You can get whatever clothes you need afterward. Then I want to take you out tonight.”
One brick from the wall Holt has torn down has managed to fall back into place. I crash back down to earth with that last statement. He wants to take me out to create fresh media content.
“You want to take me out.” I nod, pulling back slightly. I fall back against the headboard again. “I’m guessing the headlines are starving for another Holt Capuleti dating story, huh?”
“They are.” His fingers pinch the front of his shirt I’m wearing, and he pulls me forward. I sit up as he tugs me back toward him. “But that’s not why I’m wanting to take you out, Selene.”
“Why are you, then?” I ask, breathless.
“Because I don’t want you to go. I want to know what it feels like to come home from work and see you here.”
“Bold of you to assume I would want the same thing.”
His blue eyes flash. “Tell me you don’t.”
I breathe. Count to three. Then I breathe again.
“Consider your answer, Wallflower.” His voice wraps around me, heating my inner thighs. “I may just start collecting your little white lies for later.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, having no doubt he means it.
“Yeah.” He nods, cracking another smile.
Then I go against everything I’ve ever told myself since I was eighteen. “Where’s this toothbrush?”