Chapter 35
Lainey
Holland watches from the edge of his bed as I pace back and forth across his room. I haven’t stopped stressing about what I’m going to tell Ellie and when. Haley’s right, I do need to tell her. I just can’t figure out the best way to do it.
I don’t really know what I’m so afraid of. I don’t know if I’m more afraid of telling Ellie and having her hate me for it, or the fact that telling Ellie makes everything seem so much more real.
Making it more real means that there’s an actual chance of this not working out and me getting hurt, proving myself right. I don’t want to prove myself right. I want to be wrong. I want Holland to prove to me that people can and will stay.
But what if I’m right? What if I’m not worth loving or staying for? What if I’m destined to be completely alone for the rest of my life?
I don’t know if I could handle losing Holland. I’ve known him my whole life, and if he left, I don’t know what I’d do.
Who am I kidding? I know exactly what I’d do. I’d pull myself up by my bootstraps and handle it, just like I always have. Except, my version of handling it usually involves several bottles of liquor and a new man in my bed every night.
“Would you sit down? You’re making me dizzy,” Holland says. I glare at him and halt in my tracks.
“Why are you not more worried about this?” I ask, my voice higher than usual.
“Because I don’t care what anyone thinks. Neither should you. So what if my sister doesn’t approve. She can’t stop us from being together,” he shrugs nonchalantly.
I don’t understand how he can just not care about what Ellie will say. Maybe because she’s related to him and will be forced to see him at family functions even if she’s pissed at him.
Me on the other hand, I may have grown up with them, and they may be like family to me, but I’m not blood. Ellie could turn on me and decide she never wants to see me again.
“We’re not together, though. We’re screwing. There’s a difference.”
Holland clearly doesn’t like that answer because his face darkens and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so possessive.
The words he said to me back at the café replay in my head. ‘You’re mine.’
Without a word, Holland stands, his presence commanding the space around us. My breath catches as he reaches out, his large hands gripping my waist. His eyes bounce between mine as his breathing picks up slightly.
“No matter what, you’re mine now, Lainey,” he growls, his voice low and rough. “Stop worrying about her.” His words are a command, not a suggestion, and a shiver runs down my spine at the forcefulness.
I feel the heat of his body against mine, his scent enveloping me, musk and something distinctly him.
Holland’s hands move deliberately, his fingers brushing against the hem of my t-shirt. Leaning down, his lips kiss my neck.
“Say it,” he demands.
My heart pounds in my chest, my stress dissolving into desire that coils low in my belly. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing but a small squeak comes out as Holland brings my shirt over my head slowly, the fabric sliding to the floor in a forgotten heap.
His touch is urgent and deliberate, as if he has all the time in the world, yet he can’t bear to wait another second.
His mouth trails over my collarbone, his teeth grazing my skin in a way that makes my nipples hard and my body shiver.
I can’t bring myself to say the words. The words he wants me to say mean that I’m committing to being his. Do I want to do that? Do I want to be Holland’s?
I don’t get to finish that thought before his lips are on mine, demanding and hungry. My hands fist in his shirt, nails digging into his back as he pushes me back onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath me as I crawl back toward the headboard.
He inches toward me slowly, like a lion stalking his prey, his movements confident and commanding. If he’s trying to intimidate me, it’s working, and that’s saying something because I’m not easily intimidated.
His hands roam my body, his fingers tracing the curves of my breasts as his thumbs brush over my nipples.
I arch into him, a soft moan escaping my lips as his head dips and his mouth captures one peak, sucking gently. His tongue swirls, causing my head to fall back as my hands tangle in his hair.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against me as he trails his kisses down my stomach. His hands slide lower, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my jeans. Lifting my hips, I allow him to pull them off, the denim sliding down her legs and pooling on the floor.
My breath comes in short pants as Holland’s gaze takes me in, and he looks hungry.
Just then, his face moves between my legs, his hands gripping my thighs as he spreads them apart.
My cheeks burn and my pussy throbs with need. Fuck, I want him inside me.
“You’re mine,” he reiterates, his voice a promise. “Every inch of you.”
His mouth descends, his lips pressing against the lace of my panties. My hips buck involuntarily as a take a sharp inhale at the feeling of his warm breath against me. Tauntingly slow, he pulls down my panties, tossing them aside and leaving me completely exposed.
His breath ghosts over my pussy, and I can’t help the small whimper that comes out of me as my hands grip the sheets.
Thank God, he doesn’t make me wait long because I’m about to combust. His tongue is on me in an instant, hot and wet, sliding between my folds with deliberate slowness. I squirm, but his hands hold my hips firmly, keeping me still as he explores me with his tongue.
Holland devours me with a hunger that leaves me breathless. His fingers delve deeper, his thumb pressing against my clit as his tongue flicks and sucks, driving me closer to the edge.
“Oh my God, Holland,” I gasp, my tone begging, but he only growls in response, his touch intensifying.
I’m right there. I’m right on the freaking edge of the cliff, and I am so ready for the intense orgasm that I am about to have. Except, the feeling dissipates when Holland pulls away.
“What the fuck?” I spit. Why the actual hell did he stop? I was right fucking there! His eyes darken, and a devilish smirk crosses his lips.
“What, baby? Something wrong?” he asks mockingly. Oh, I’m going to throat punch him. There’s no way.
“I swear to-,”
“Shhh,” he brushes his thumb over my cheek, moving a loose hair out of my face. He’s being so gentle, and it’s odd considering how roughly he was just eating me. “Say it.”
Oh, you’ve got to be freaking kidding me! He cannot be serious right now. He’s withholding my orgasm because he wants me to cave? To tell him I’m his?
Come on, Lainey. Don’t be so stubborn. Just say it, and then he’ll continue.
Fuck.
“I’m…” I begin, but the rest of the words die at the tip of my tongue. Shit.
Holland’s wicked grin grows wider as he enjoys my struggle. “Come on, Barkley. Tell me you’re mine.”
Rolling my eyes, I take a deep breath and exhale loudly.
“I’m…yours,” I murmur softly.
“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you,” he taunts. I hate him. I actually think I might punch him in the face.
“Suck a dick,” I tell him, and his grin grows even bigger.
“You will be soon. Now say it again or I won’t make this pretty little pussy come,” he threatens.
“I’m yours,” I say, a bit louder this time so he can actually hear me.
“There you go. Now was that so hard?” he asks, chuckling to himself since apparently, he thinks he’s so funny.
“Debilitating, actually.”
“Aw, you’re cute. Now lay back down so I can finish my dinner,” he demands, pushing my shoulders back so I fall back onto the bed. My head flies back as his tongue goes back to continue its torture.
Within seconds, I’m writhing beneath him, coming so hard I see stars. Holy fucking shit.
Pulling back, Holland hovers over me, smiling down at me cockily.
Moving quickly, he sheds his clothes, tossing everything onto the floor. When he’s naked, he crawls back over me, his muscles flexing with every movement. My gaze finds its way down his rock-hard body to his large erection and my mouth waters at the sight.
Holland smirks as he reaches for me, his hands guiding my legs over his shoulders.
“You ready for me, Lainey Bug?” he asks, his voice a low purr.
Oh, God yes.
I nod, my breath hitching as he positions himself at my entrance. His eyes lock with mine, his expression fierce and possessive as he thrusts into me in one smooth motion. I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders as he fills me completely.
Holland’s growl is primal as his hands grip my hips and he begins to move, his strokes deep and relentless.
The bed creaks beneath us, and I don’t even care if anyone hears us at this point because I’m on cloud fucking nine.
Holland’s mouth finds mine, his kisses bruising and hungry, his tongue tangling with mine as he claims me again and again. My hips meet his thrusts, my body responding to his with a desperation that I’ve never felt before.
The intensity builds and Holland’s movements become more urgent, his moans turning into ragged breaths. My cries of pleasure grow louder as my body tightens around him
“Holland…” I pant. “I’m going to-”
Holland’s hands grip me tighter, his gaze never leaving mine, his expression fierce.
“Tell me you’re mine again. Say it again,” he urges. I don’t even argue. I don’t have the energy, and I really want to come again.
“I’m yours. I’m all yours,” I tell him breathlessly. That seems to satisfy him because he begins to move faster, rougher.
“Cum for me, baby,” he commands, his voice a rough whisper. “Cum on my fucking cock.”
My second orgasm rips through me, my body shaking as I cry out his name. Holland follows moments later, his thrusts stuttering as he buries himself deep, his growl vibrating through me.
“Fucking shit, Lainey. You feel so fucking good,” he pants.
When he’s done, he collapses on top of me, his weight heavy but comforting, and his breath hot against my neck.
For a moment, the world is still, the only sound in the room is our ragged breathing. Holland’s lips brush against my shoulder as his hands stroke my back in slow, soothing motions. My heart is still racing, and my mind is a blur of pleasure and confusion.
Although, I don’t think I’m really confused anymore. I think deep down, I know what I want, and I just need to admit it to myself. I deserve to be happy, right?
Holland kisses my forehead gently and I can’t help but smile at his gentle touch after being so rough and carnal.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers, his head nudging my shoulder.
Damnit, I want him. Not just in a sexual way, but in a real, I have feelings for him, type of way.
Oh God. I have feelings for Holland. Actual, real feelings. Feelings that I’ve never had for anyone else and told myself didn’t really exist.
I think I might even love him. Can I love him? I don’t know, I’ve never been in love. But this feels like a lot more than just some little crush.
Well, that’s it then. I love Holland Monroe. I am in love with my best friend’s brother.
I… am royally fucked.