Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Holly
The ability to speak slips away with his words and the way his thumb lazily seduces my mouth.
Because this is Chance—the man who held my hand in the dark. Who believes in me when I can't believe in myself. The man who hurt me. The man who's trying so damn hard to make it right.
"I missed you today," he says softly, his thumb still tracing patterns on my skin. "Missed this."
"What, my sparkling wit and casual blackmail?"
"You." The word carries weight, heavy with meaning.
One small shove and he's sitting back, looking up at me with heated surprise as I rise to my knees.
"My turn." I plant one knee on either side of his hips, settling into his lap. Because I can’t think under him. But up here, I have the control. Or at least, it’s easier to tell myself that.
His hands automatically grip my waist as I thread my fingers through his hair. "Problem, soldier?"
“Not at all.”
I roll my hips experimentally, and his fingers dig into my sides. All that military control and I can make him come undone with one simple move. An intoxicating rush of power fills me knowing that.
My new favorite game—how many sounds can I drag out of GI Composure before he snaps?
"While I’ve got you where I want you," I breathe against his ear, "I don’t need an assist with living up to the nickname. I’m an overachiever, self-taught, and proved highly-proficient."
The sound he makes is absolutely feral. His mouth finds my throat as his hands slide up my back, under my shirt. But I keep control, using my grip on his hair to guide him where I want him.
Even as my heart threatens to pound straight out of my chest.
Because this is Chance.
The man who's had me hot and bothered since he fondled my favorite pair of manifestation underwear like some shameless panty bandit.
The one who hurt me.
The one who's trying so hard to make it right that my chest aches with it.
My breath catches. He's so close I can count his eyelashes, see the faint stubble along his jaw. Also, hello biceps. Those are some grade-A military gains right there.
Focus, Holly. This is not the time to mentally catalog his muscle groups. Even if his forearms should be classified as lethal weapons.
His hand skims up my side, feather-light. "Dangerous game, Squirt."
Oh, we are so far past dangerous. We've blown right through dangerous, made a pit stop at reckless, and are currently speeding toward complete emotional annihilation.
But hey, at least the view is nice.
"I'm not afraid of danger." The words come out breathless.
Apparently, my voice didn't get the memo about playing it cool. Then again, nothing about this is cool. The temperature in here has definitely jumped about twenty degrees, and it's not from the wood stove.
"No." His thumb traces my bottom lip. "You never were. Not my Holly."
Maybe it's the way his voice breaks. Maybe it's the way he's looking at me like he'd tear himself apart before hurting me again. Maybe it's just that I'm tired of fighting this thing between us—but the my Holly?
Direct hit, soldier.
My Holly.
Two simple words shouldn't be able to crack my chest wide open like this. Shouldn't make my heart flutter and soar and ache all at once.
But they do.
My Holly.
Not William McAllister's disappointing daughter. Not Nick's pesky baby sister. Not the family outcast or a corporate liability.
My Holly.
His. Claimed without hesitation, without conditions or caveats. No need to be quieter, smaller, more polished or proper.
Just... his Holly.
The words settle into my bones, filling cracks I didn't even know were there. Cracks left by every dismissive "dear" and patronizing pat on the head. Every time I was too much or not enough.
But here, with his callused thumb still tracing my lip like I'm something precious, those two words rewrite everything.
They say "I see you" and "I choose you" and "You're exactly who you're supposed to be" all at once.
My throat tightens as the truth of it hits me no one's ever claimed me like this before. Not as something to be proud of. Not as someone worth keeping, worth fighting for.
Just... mine.
My Holly.
I want to bottle this feeling. Tuck it away somewhere safe where doubt can't touch it. Where I can pull it out on days when I feel invisible and remember that to him, I'm not just Holly.
I'm his Holly.
And maybe that's all I ever needed to be.
His thumb is still on my lip and I'm fighting the urge to bite it. Because that would be crazy, right? Total insanity. Completely unhinged behavior. The kind of thing a normal, rational person definitely wouldn't do...
Unless…
Before I can overthink myself into paralysis, I part my lips just enough to graze his thumb with my teeth.
His pupils dilate, dark eating away at the blue. "Holly." It comes out rough, almost a growl.
Oh.
Oh wow.
That's... that's a sound I'd like to hear again. Preferably on repeat. Maybe as my new ringtone.
"Yes?" I aim for innocent, but it's hard to pull off when you're straddling a wild animal. Or Chance.
His free hand slides into my hair, tilting my head back. "Last chance to tap out."
I actually laugh at that, though it comes out breathier than intended. "Seriously? After all this time, you think I'm backing down now? I literally wrote Christmas porn about your candy cane, Chance. I think we're a little past?—"
His mouth crashes into mine, swallowing whatever brilliant thing I was about to say. Probably for the best. I'm pretty sure I was about to make another North Pole joke and?—
Oh.
OH.
Never mind. Not thinking anymore. Not doing anything except feeling his lips on mine, his hands in my hair, and they way he’s thrusting his hips into me.
Starting slow, almost careful, he maps my mouth with his. But when I arch into him, fingers curling into his shirt, something snaps.
Harder this time, his mouth devours, like he's trying to memorize my taste. Like he knows what he's about to say. His hands span my ribcage, thumbs brushing just beneath the underwire of my bra, and I shiver.
"When we leave here..." he manages between kisses, and something in his voice makes my heart stutter. His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones like I'm something precious. "We can't..."
"Don't." I roll my hips again, swallowing his groan. "Don't ruin this."
He pulls back, resting his forehead against mine. His breathing is as ragged as mine, but there's something else in his eyes. Something that looks terrifyingly like tenderness.
"If I touch you, if I look at you the way I want to look at you..." He shakes his head. His hands tighten on my waist. "I won't let anything jeopardize what you're building.”
The fierce protectiveness in his voice steals my breath more than any kiss. Because this isn't just about keeping our cover, this is about him putting me first. Putting my dreams first.
"So we'll be professional." I hate how thick my voice sounds, how he can see right through me. "Hands-off policy."
The fierce protectiveness in his voice steals my breath more than any kiss. Because this isn't just about keeping our cover, this is about him putting me first.
Putting my dreams first.
"Hands off," he agrees, though his thumbs are still tracing maddening patterns on my skin like he can't quite make himself stop touching me yet. Like he's trying to memorize how I feel under his hands. "Starting the second we walk out that door. Because you deserve to win this, Holly. You deserve everything."
The way he says it—like it's the simplest truth, like he'd move mountains just to see me succeed—makes my chest ache. Because no one's ever believed in me like this. No one's ever looked at me the way he is right now, like I'm simultaneously the strongest and most precious thing he's ever seen.
"Everything?" I whisper, and hate how vulnerable I sound.
"Everything." He catches my chin, making sure I meet his eyes. "And I'll spend however long it takes proving that to you. Starting with watching you crush this presentation."
I lean in, pressing my forehead to his. "Even if it means pretending you hate me?"
"Even then." His voice roughens. "Though for the record? Hardest damn act I've ever had to pull off."
‘Thank you.” The word is barely a whisper. Probably the quietest I’ve ever been in my life.
“You’re welcome.” He punctuates the word with a gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth, just like the one that devastated me in all the best ways, only on the opposite side.
“Let me ask you something?" His thumb traces my bottom lip again. Like he can’t stop going back to continue that barest touch—his touch so gentle it makes my chest ache.
“What’s that?” The word comes out breathier than I intend.
"This thing with your dad's company—is it about running it, or proving you're more than his little..." he winces, "princess?"
My heart stutters.
Trust Chance to see right through my armor, past all my carefully constructed plans, straight to the tender spots I try to keep hidden.
"Maybe both?"
"You're already more, Holly." His voice drops low, intimate. "Anyone with eyes can see it. But building a life around proving it to someone who might never see you the way you deserve? That's not the Holly I know."
Something in my chest cracks wide open. "So what then—just give up? Let him win?"
"No." His fingers thread through my hair, cradling my head. “Build your own empire. One where no one can question if you earned it. One where you don't have to fight for a seat at his table. One where once you get that seat, you don’t have to spend every day after continuing to prove you deserve to be there.”
The possibility hits me like a shot of pure adrenaline—no more trying to fit into the box my father built. No more measuring myself against his expectations.
Just... freedom.
"That sounds..." Terrifying. Exhilarating. Like standing on the edge of a black diamond run, heart racing, knowing the only way down is to jump.
"Sounds like you." His smile is soft but sure. "The Holly who's never met a challenge she couldn't crush."
And just like that, we're back to us.
Different, deeper, but still us.
The rest can wait until after I win.