4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Holden
W hen the matchmaker told me she had a great idea for my next date with Imogen, I hadn't known what to expect. Being trapped in a room with her while we solve puzzles to escape... not what I had in mind, but it could be worse.
The escape room is small and dimly lit, decorated like a 1920s speakeasy with jazz music playing softly in the background.
"I think this symbol matches that clue over there," Imogen says, pointing across the room.
"You might be right," I say, moving closer to inspect the symbol she pointed out. "Let's see if we can unlock this box."
She hovers beside me, her body heat radiating in the confined space. "You're pretty good at this," she comments when the box pops open.
I chuckle, glancing at her. "I have my moments."
The air between us crackles with an electric charge as we work together on the puzzles. Imogen's brow furrows in concentration, and I can't help but admire the curve of her full lips as she bites down on the plump flesh.
"I think we're close," she murmurs, leaning over the table to examine a set of symbols.
My gaze drifts lower, drawn to the tantalizing swell of her breasts straining against the fabric of her blouse. I swallow hard, trying to focus, but she's a tempting distraction.
"You're staring," she teases, glancing up at me.
Caught, I flash her a wolfish grin. "Can you blame me? You're captivating."
She arches an eyebrow, but I don't miss the way her cheeks flush at my frank appraisal. "Eyes on the prize, Bowers. We've got work to do."
"Yes, ma'am," I say, turning my attention back to the puzzle.
Finally, with a triumphant cry, Imogen slots the last piece into place. The lock on the door clicks open with a resounding thud that seems to echo through the room.
"We did it!" she exclaims, her eyes alight with excitement as she turns toward me, flinging her arms around my neck.
That's all it takes for something to snap inside of me.
Desire surges through me, hot and insistent. Before I can think better of it, I reach behind her and pull the door closed again, the lock clicking into place with a resounding thud.
"What are you—" she begins, but I silence her with a searing kiss.
She melts against me with a soft moan, her fingers tangling in my hair as I back her up against the nearest wall. The rough brick scratches my palm as I brace my hand beside her head, caging her in with my body.
Imogen tastes like sin and salvation, her lips pliant and inviting as I plunder her mouth with deep, hungry strokes of my tongue. She gives as good as she gets, nipping at my lower lip, sending sparks of pleasure-pain ricocheting through my nerves.
Growling low in my throat, I tear my mouth from hers and trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along the slender column of her throat. She arches against me with a breathy whimper, her nails raking deliciously across my scalp.
"Holden..." She breathes my name, her voice husky.
I can't get enough of her—the taste of her skin, the curves of her body molded so perfectly against mine, the soft sounds of pleasure that spill from those lush lips. My hands roam freely, tracing the hourglass flare of her hips before drifting lower to knead the firm swell of her ass.
"You drive me crazy," I rasp against the sensitive hollow beneath her ear. "I can't get you out of my head."
She gasps as I grind my hips against hers, letting her feel the undeniable ridge of my arousal.
"Good," she whispers, her voice breathless and teasing. "Because I haven't stopped thinking about you either."
With a low groan, I capture her lips again, losing myself in the velvet heat of her mouth. My hands find their way beneath the hem of her blouse, caressing the soft skin of her lower back, her sides, her stomach. She trembles under my touch, her breath coming in shallow pants between kisses.
I want—no, I need—to feel more of her. My fingers drift higher, grazing the lace of her bra before cupping the glorious weight of her breasts. Imogen whimpers into the kiss, her back arching as she presses herself into my palms.
"You're so fucking beautiful," I murmur, trailing kisses along her jawline. "I could worship you for hours."
"We don’t have that long,” she answers with a breathless giggle.
“You’re right,” I agree, “I’d better make this quick.”
Sliding one hand between our bodies, I find the button of her jeans and deftly unfasten it. My fingers dip beneath the waistband, seeking out the damp heat at her core.
Imogen's head falls back against the wall with a soft thump as I stroke her slick folds, her hips rolling in silent encouragement. Her eyes flutter closed, those lush lips parting on a breathy moan as I find her clit and tease it with light, maddening circles.
"Look at me," I growl, my voice low and commanding.
Her eyes snap open, dark and glazed with pleasure as she holds my gaze. I watch the play of ecstasy across her features as I push two fingers inside her tight, velvet sheath. She's impossibly wet, her inner walls fluttering around the intrusion as I set a slow, torturous rhythm.
"Oh god..." she whimpers, her nails scoring delicious lines down my back.
I increase the pace, my thumb working tight circles over her swollen pearl as I curl my fingers to find that spongy sweet spot inside her. Imogen comes undone, her cries of pleasure echoing off the walls as she shatters around my fingers.
It's the most erotic thing I've ever witnessed.
As her tremors subside, I slowly withdraw my hand and bring my glistening digits to my lips, savoring her tangy essence with a low groan of approval.
Imogen watches me with heavy-lidded eyes, her chest heaving. "You're going to be the death of me, Holden Bowers," she breathes.
Leaning in, I capture her lips in a slow, smoldering kiss, letting her taste herself on my tongue. "And what a way to go," I murmur against her mouth.
We stand there for a long moment, foreheads pressed together as our breathing slowly returns to normal. I could get lost in her this way forever, but a sharp rap on the door breaks the spell.
"Everything okay in there?" A muffled voice calls from the other side. "Time is up.”
I chuckle wryly, pressing one last lingering kiss to Imogen's temple before stepping back to straighten my rumpled clothing. She follows suit, her movements languid and satiated.
By the time the attendant unlocks the door, we're both presentable, though the air between us still crackles with the echoes of our heated encounter. The attendant gives us a knowing look but says nothing as we exit the escape room.
Once we're alone in the hallway, I turn to Imogen, taking her hand in mine. "I want you by my side at the Emerald Ridge Gala this weekend."
Her eyes widen slightly at the implication, the weight of what I'm asking. This isn't just about being my date—it's a statement, an announcement to the world that we're together.
She hesitates for a beat, and in that moment, my heart stutters with uncertainty. Then, her expression softens, and she gives a slow nod.
"I'd like that," she says simply.
A grin spreads across my face as I pull her into my arms, holding her close. Whatever this is between us, it feels bigger than just a casual fling. I'm all in if she is.
As I guide her toward the exit, my arm draped possessively around her waist, I feel like the luckiest bastard in the world.