Chapter Five
Maya
Holden swings open the back door before I’ve even knocked.
“You parked around back.”
“Yeah,” I smile, “I wasn’t sure if we were doing this out loud or what. So… figured better safe than sorry.”
He tugs me in out of the cold by the waist and leans in, kissing my lips like he’s really, really missed me.
God, I love this feeling. Maybe we aren’t as far away from my fantasy as I thought.
His foot kicks up, and the door closes behind us with a final whoosh of cold air as he moves his lips to the freckle on my shoulder.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day long, my baby.” His beard scratches against my neck as he kisses my chest. “Why don’t you tell me about your day.”
“Well,” I tip up onto my toes and arch my neck back as he spreads warm heat over the lobe of my ear, “I talked to Alice.”
“Yeah? How’s she doing today?” he asks as he continues to pepper me with kisses.
“She was a little cryptic about things, but overall, I’d say she’s good. What about you? Everything go well today?”
He nods slowly and leans up from my chest. “I guess I’m still a little messed up about how the day went,” he grips my hand and guides me into the small u-shaped kitchen where he’s got a pot of soup on the stove, “but it’s all better now.”
I’ve been to his house a few dozen times, though always with Alice or Wyatt.
Never alone, not like this. The change in perspective has me seeing things I wouldn’t normally see.
Like his choice in glassware, the custom antler pulls on the drawers, and the framed photo of the mountains above the dining room table.
For some reason, I never paid much attention to these details until now, or maybe it’s that every detail suddenly means something different.
I’m seeing every choice in décor as a deeper picture about who he is.
“What kind of soup are you making?” I lean over the pot and breathe in as I grab the wooden spoon on the counter and give it a stir. It’s something spicy. I know that much.
“It’s tomato-cayenne. Goes good with my famous grilled cheese.”
Oh my God, he’s cooking for me! I didn’t have that on the wish list for my fantasy man, but now that it’s happening, it’s the cutest thing ever. Really, what’s kinder than cooking for someone?
I try to play it cool, but my voice doesn’t get the memo and perks way too excitedly. “Famous grilled cheese? I like how that sounds. What makes it famous?”
“Would you believe that when it comes to cooking, it all boils down to who’s making it?” He smiles and grabs a cast iron pan off the hanger beside the stove. “You love grilled cheese, right? You order it when we get takeout from the diner, so I assumed.”
“Yes!” I grin. “It’s my favorite!” I land my hand on his solid back, and for a second, I imagine us together like this five years from now.
This cabin, this soup, a few kids playing in the living room while Dad makes his famous grilled cheese.
Maybe we all just got in from playing in the snow or sledding.
Maybe we made a snowman, named him Flake-zilla, and the kids can’t stop smiling about all the fun we’ve had.
Ugh, I shouldn’t do this to myself. Fantasies like this are more dangerous than sexual ones. I mean, sex will most likely happen. There’s a low barrier to entry with that type of fantasy. But a family? A life? What are the chances that everything works out like that?
“You hear from Wyatt today?” Holden asks as he grabs two pieces of sourdough from a loaf on the counter. I recognize the bag from a local baker but I’m reimagining the logo design in my head. I think it could use a floral border and a bolder font to help the name stand out more.
Why am I thinking about this right now?
“Yeah, he called like three dozen times, but I let it go to voicemail. I’m just not ready to talk to him yet.”
Holden lands his hands on either side of my frame and stares at me with intent. “I’ll handle him.”
“I know, but I feel like it’s my problem. He’s my brother.” My chest tightens as thoughts of Wyatt return. I don’t know how to help him anymore, but I know I need to figure something out. I owe it to him after everything he’s done for me.
“You know what,” Holden stands taller and kisses the top of my head, “none of this matters right now. We’re finally here together, we’re alone, and I have much more pressing things to do than talk about your brother.”
The heavy weight on my chest lightens and my heart gets warmer. “So you’re not planning to ditch me?”
His brows wrinkle together as he scratches his hand down over his thick salt and pepper beard. “Why would I ditch you?”
I shrug and reach for a piece of bread behind him on the table, nibbling the edges like a nervous little mouse.
“I don’t know. I just thought after you left in a hurry today maybe you were changing your mind about me.
I mean, you and Wyatt were friends way before you and I met.
Plus, I know you’re all about doing the right thing, and I think maybe I embody the exact opposite of that.
” I tilt my head to the side. “Ya know?”
“My baby,” he lifts me up and sets me on the kitchen counter, landing a kiss on my shoulder freckle before setting another on my lips, “you embody everything right about the world. And nothing, I mean nothing, is going to make me not want you.”
“Really?” I whisper, turning his hat back. “You want to name a snowman Flake-zilla and make famous grilled cheese for our kids?”
He smiles sweetly and kisses the tip of my nose.
“I want as many kids as we can have, I want them all to eat this famous grilled cheese, and if every snowman I meet isn’t named Flake-zilla, I’ll know I’m living a lie.
” He inches his rough hand up my skirt and onto my thigh as his lips brush against mine, hard and eager.
The soup pot bubbles beside us, but he doesn’t seem bothered. He’s too focused on me, too lost in the world we’re creating. It’s part of what I love most about him. When we’re together, I feel like the only person in his world. Or at the very least, the most interesting.
His big, rough hand presses between my thighs and he parts my legs gently before rubbing his thumb against my damp, cotton covered crease.
“I had this idea,” he rasps as he nibbles his way down my shoulder.
“What’s that?” I whisper, inadvertently knocking his hat to the floor as I push my fingertips through the back of his hair.
“I had this idea that your first time would be on the bed surrounded by candles, or that we’d find some meadow, lay a blanket down, and the whole thing would be soft and sweet for you.”
I beam and press my lips against the lobe of his ear. “There’s three feet of snow on the ground. I’m not sure the meadow would’ve been as romantic as you’re picturing.”
I feel his smile against my shoulder as the tips of his fingers slide past my panties and press inside of me. “I’m going to make you mine tonight, my baby,” he groans. “Tell me you want that too.”
I melt into him, every muscle in my body relaxing against the heat of his touch.
“I want that too,” I pant, my mouth curving up into a wicked, begging grin. “Make me yours.”
His tone deepens. “Even if the logistics aren’t easy? Even if we upset Wyatt? Even if—”
“Make me yours,” I plead, unbuckling his jeans before pushing them to the floor with my bare feet.
A dark growl slips from his throat as he tugs me to the edge of the countertop. “Okay, then lay back. I need to taste you.”
We’ve played around so much. His hands have been all over me, mine were all over him, but Holden insisted we never let things get much further than this until we were out in the open.
I’m not sure that’s what this is, but I’m happy, regardless of the details.
I tuck under the overhead cupboards and lean back on the cool, stone top as he tugs me further to the edge, lands my legs on his shoulders, and leans in, breathing in my scent like a wild animal that’s hungry for a meal.
“Fuck, you smell good,” he growls deep in his throat as he wraps his rough palms around my thighs, tucks his head under my skirt, and licks his way inside of me.
Dear fucking heaven on Earth! His tickling beard, his rough hands, the way his deep voice reverberates… every sensation is ecstasy.
I press down and scrub my hips against him, desperate to have him everywhere all at once.
“Good girl,” he murmurs between licks. “Rub yourself all over me.”
My eyes squeeze shut as he thrusts his thick fingers inside, simultaneously twisting his tongue around my clit. Is it normal to feel so close to the edge already? Is it normal to be this wet?
For a second, I worry that I’m doing everything wrong. That my body is overcompensating. That I’m not moaning enough. That I’m not putting on a good enough show. Then, his fingertip meets a spongy center at the top wall of my core, and I lose sight of every fear I’ve ever had about anything, ever.