Chapter 18 #2
I suspect Holt has pulled back out of respect, but I can tell he hasn’t let up on his comments.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was feeling the same, too.
I already know by the time we leave wherever we’re going, I’m going to spend the entire night fighting the urge to follow through on what we’re both feeling.
Thirty minutes later, Holt is escorting me into the New York City Opera House, which is opulent, decorated in gold leaf detail and rich, deep maroon drapery.
I can’t stop staring at the auditorium in complete and utter awe.
The eyes and whispers of some don’t go unnoticed.
It’s only seconds before some are pulling out their phones to snap pictures of the two of us together.
I feel a million light years away from my cracked ceiling and the leaky faucet in my kitchen. But somehow, I feel comfortable here. Maybe it’s the dress I’ve picked out, or how Holt hasn’t stopped finding a way to touch me since we left. Cameras or not, he’s held my hand the entire night.
The valet leads us to the private balcony facing the stage that Holt reserved for us. Holt holds his arm out as I take our seat. Just like I’ve seen in the movies, there are two pairs of gold binoculars laid out for us.
He sits beside me on the plush, velvety sofa. Our booth is private. There’s one single door for entry and exit. Thick, long, velvet curtains line the sides of the booth, giving us a small semblance of privacy, but a piece of privacy, nonetheless.
“I’ll be your private server tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Capuleti.
If you’ll be requiring anything, please don’t hesitate to let me know.
” The young man dressed like a butler is bent at the waist, covered in shadows.
The show hasn’t even started and it’s still dark in here.
Once it begins, I can only imagine how difficult it will be to see.
I open my mouth to correct him on his assumption that we’re married, but Holt stops me.
“We’d like a single bottle of champagne and two glasses, then we won’t be requiring your services for the rest of the night.”
“Yes, sir.” The server nods once in acknowledgement and disappears.
I cross my legs, and the slit in my dress widens, revealing the smooth skin to my upper thigh. I don’t fix it. Holt’s hand immediately lands on my exposed skin, and there’s the crackling of electricity again. I almost sigh with relief.
Fuck, I definitely won’t be able to hold back tonight. Especially not at this rate.
“What show are we seeing?” I whisper, not tearing my eyes away from the stage. I’ve been too focused on ignoring the constant stares to pay attention to why we are here in the first place.
“Romeo and Juliet,” he says not nearly as quietly as me.
I finally break my attention from the stage to look at him. He’s handsome in the dim lighting. Freshly shaved and clean cut, he’s every bit of the Holt Capuleti I’ve known for years. But being with him like this is different. He’s giving me tiny pieces of who he is at his core.
“This ballet has been playing Romeo and Juliet for decades.” His fingers slip between my pressed thighs. “Our parents used to bring Julianna and me when we were kids. Being here reminds me of when life felt perfect.”
“I get what you mean.” I glance around the auditorium with a warm smile. “My parents used to take us to Coney Island every summer.”
“What is your favorite memory? Of Coney Island?”
“The bumper cars,” I’m quick to answer. “Our parents would join London and me, and the competition was fierce but fun. I don’t think I’d ever seen them laugh as hard as they did then. They were happy.”
The memory cracks open a part of me I’ve kept stitched up for years. But why was it so easy for me to share it with Holt?
“But then again, nothing is as it seems,” I admit, softly. Tears threaten to burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let my parent’s deceitful nature steal this from me.
“I agree,” Holt whispers, still leaning in. He squeezes my thigh, his eyes glistening in the diluted light. “This place is my Coney Island.”
It’s difficult to breathe. I can’t look away from Holt, his eyes becoming the windows to his soul.
My heart breaks for him, knowing the struggle he’s going through with this lawsuit.
He hides it well behind his calm demeanor, always buried in his work, but I can tell being here with me is giving him a bit of peace from the chaos that surrounds him.
I understand it, too.
The secret I’m keeping for Julianna sits between us. I’ve been able to put it out of my mind until he brought her up just now. I inhale a deep breath, hoping Julianna doesn’t take too long to tell her brother the truth. The last thing I want is to get between them.
The lights in the auditorium dim as our server returns with the bottle of champagne. It rests in an all-too-fancy bucket of ice. Holt pours me a glass, and I down half of it before the last audience member takes their seat below and the stage curtains open.
We sit in silence, but all I can think about is Holt’s hand pressed firmly between my thighs. My body is screaming for his touch. I want more. I need more.
His silence is agonizing in the best way.
With my heart racing a million miles a minute, I’m all too aware of Holt’s presence.
We’re both pretending to pay attention to the ballet, but all I can think about is him, and I know he feels the same way every time he squeezes my thigh just a little.
I’m already soaking wet, begging for the orgasm I’ve been denied for days.
I uncross my legs, and Holt lets out an audible hiss.
Romeo and Juliet continue to dance delicately across the stage, the longing on their faces evident from where we’re sitting.
The show is beautiful and moving. There’s something about the forbidden nature of their love, the longing glances.
All of it is overwhelming. I tuck my bottom lip under my teeth, realizing I haven’t felt this way ever.
Between the ballet and Holt’s touch, I feel everything now. I feel it all.
I hiccup on a breath as Holt’s hand slides up my thigh. I sigh, my eyes fluttering. Then he leans close to my ear, his hot breath brushing across it as he whispers, “It’s killing me, I mean absolutely killing me, not being able to kiss you right now, Wallflower.”
My eyes snap open, and I place my hand over his, dragging it up the rest of my thigh, pressing his fingers firmly against my throbbing pussy.
Wide eyed, I turn to face him. “Then, kiss me.”
Hungry and wanting, he doesn’t waste time. He closes the gap between us, pressing his mouth starvingly against mine. It’s strong yet soft, and he groans as his lips mold to mine.
I’m gasping for air, a jolt of electricity jump starting my heart. He reaches across, gripping the side of my face. His fingers get lost in my long, wavy hair, pulling me impossibly closer.
I grip his arm, letting my hand slide over the soft, silken fabric of his black suit. The orchestrated music in the background booms and vibrates through the auditorium. It’s amazing how we’re in a room filled with people but are somehow still in our own bubble.
The hand he has pressed against my pussy moves to my hip, pulling me up out of my seat and onto his lap.
My dress parts, bunching at the waist. As soon as I’m sitting in Holt’s lap, I feel his length against my wetness.
My barely-there, thin lace thong is soaked as I rock my hips against his stone-hard cock.
I know I’m destroying his insanely expensive suit, but Holt must not care because he moves his hand under my dress, around the curve of my ass, to the small of my back, encouraging me to grind against him harder.
His mouth hasn’t broken away from mine when he bites my lip, grunting as I roll my hips. I moan against his mouth, gasping as my clit brushes against his zipper.
“I want you, Holt,” I breathe, tilting my head up to give him access to my neck. I try to quiet my mewls, instead focusing on the heat coursing through my body. It’s as if I’ve been drowning in an endless ocean, finally coming up for air.
“Tell me how badly you want me.” He reaches between us, shoving my thong aside and pressing his fingers to my swollen, aching clit.
I gasp, arching my back.
“Consider your lies, Wallflower,” he warns softly. “You have no idea how badly I want to spank you right now.”
His other hand slips down to the full curve of my ass cheek.
He palms it, jerking me forward. I’m caught between both his hands, and although we’re in our own private area, we’re still in public.
I’m almost certain if I allowed myself to fully cry out, the entire opera house would be able to hear me.
He trails his mouth down my neck and along my collarbone.
“I haven’t given you the word yet,” I tell him, grinding against his hand. My body is humming and vibrating. It feels even better than the time in the elevator. “Even if I did, we couldn’t. Not here.”
“So, you’re saying it’s a possibility?” He slips his fingers down my slit before plunging them inside me.
My mouth falls open and I don’t think. I lose all hesitation and give him a coy smile. “Maybe.”
His gaze softens as his fingers work inside me, tugging on the part of me I’ve left dormant for so long. “You have no idea what you do to me. What you’ve done to me all this time. I’ve dreamed endlessly of this. Of you.”
“Please,” I beg, shamelessly. I look down at Holt, pressing my hands around his gorgeous face.
I kiss him once before looking him in the eye and confessing, “I want your cock to fill me. I want you to make me come harder than ever. I want you to fuck me, Holt. Fuck me like you’ve wanted to for the past six years. ”
His eyes darken, the blues in them sharpening in the pale light. His fingers pull out of me, and then he’s scrambling to undo his belt and the zipper of his pants.