Chapter 11
Eleven
Morning comes in pieces—adamant sunlight slicing through the crooked blinds above the kitchen sink, the coffee machine’s hiss, the sharp points of my skull scraping my brain. I drank too much and slept too little last night. We all did.
When the highway traffic slowed and the sun sank below distant mountains, we set up a Bluetooth speaker and lantern and played cards and traded stories until well after midnight.
For a little while, the mess we’re all in was boxed up and hidden away, and it was easy to forget that there’s no way we’ll be able to have this normalcy long-term with the secrets we’re each carrying.
Somebody’s in the bathroom, loudly retching, and the hollow door does nothing to muffle the sound. How I slept through that is beyond me. I blink up at the off-white ceiling and reach my arms overhead for a full-body stretch just as my phone vibrates somewhere in the mess of blankets.
Holden
You alive?
Sunday
Barely.
Though I’m seemingly doing better than Logan.
Holden
Come outside?
I inhale a small sip of air and work up the courage to roll out of the supine position. My bare feet hit the floor, and I shut my eyes for another second, hoping to quiet the cacophony of power tools hammering and drilling and chiselling away at my skull.
Inhale. Exhale.
With exaggerated effort, my feet slide into my sandals, and I gingerly step out into the bright daylight.
It’s already much too hot for comfort out here, and that blasted sun is doing a number on my headache.
Brimming a flattened palm above my eyes, I throw myself into the camp chair next to where Holden’s calmly sipping from his favorite mug.
“Hey,” he says, a little softer than I ever hear him speak when Logan’s around.
“Hey.”
His free hand runs through his wavy, dark hair, gathering a handful and letting it fall so the sun catches each strand and dips them in gold. His eyes drift over my face, lingering on my mouth, and my heart dips and spills into my stomach.
Holden jerks his chin toward the pickup. “I’m gonna rip into town to restock some food while we wait for Logan to get himself together… If you want to take a little drive with me?”
“I’d love to.”
Before too long, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Holden’s truck with an anticipative smile and a nervous hum in my chest.
The truck rumbles to life, and Holden’s hand slides across the center console to catch my fingers in my lap. “Ready?”
I nod. Though I’d told him I would take a drive, and God, did I love the excuse to have one final moment alone before we get home tomorrow, I walked into the trailer with a nagging realization that I couldn’t leave Logan here if he was really sick.
I’m an asshole. A cheating, lying asshole.
But that doesn’t mean I’m entirely heartless.
Instead I found him parked on the dinette bench, shaky hands wrapped around a cup of coffee, with a bottle of pain killers open in front of him.
I tossed some bread in the toaster for him, freshened up, and it was Logan who suggested I tag along with Holden—he had a list of things he wanted from the store.
A sign from the gods, I decided.
At first, we drive in companionable silence, with small finger squeezes and the low sounds of a country song crackling through the radio.
But the farther we get from the rest stop, the more the air between us charges and heats with an expectant energy.
My thumb strokes his hand, studying the grooves and wondering what it would feel like between my legs.
Holden clears his throat. “There’s, uh… apparently, there’s a sightseeing spot we could check out up ahead.”
“Yeah? What type of bizarre sculpture is it this time?”
He smiles. “No sculptures. I’ve just been dying for another chance to kiss you.”
I smile back. “Me too.”
The secluded spot is overgrown with grass, and there’s really not much to sightsee beyond tiny cars moving along the nearby highway, an endless prairie sea, and a bent-over sign warning of high winds.
The click of my unbuckling seatbelt echoes in the quiet truck cab, a dangerous spark in the charged air.
Holden’s grip on my hand cuts to him holding my jaw, and a slow, careful tug until my lips are a breath away from meeting his, and my heart is drumming louder than the waves of wind rolling over the truck.
His eyes are so blue in this light, pupils flaring as he reaches to unfasten the hair tie securing my messy ponytail.
Thick fingers caress the sleek, black strands, catching on tiny tangles.
I can feel the heat of his breath, smell the sweetness of his shampoo and the lingering hint of mint from his toothpaste.
“I meant what I said yesterday,” he murmurs. “About this not being a mistake. About wanting you. I know that’s fucked up because Logan’s my brother, but I also know he wouldn’t hesitate if the tables were turned.”
“The way I see it, our relationship ended the first time he cheated on me, then again every time since. For a long time, I thought I was lucky that anyone wanted me, and the kind of love he gave was as good as I’d ever get, but…
” My eyes trace each feature of Holden’s handsome face—the dark lashes casting shadows over slightly reddened cheeks, the thick layer of stubble, the permanent divot between his brows from the near-constant frown.
A frown that’s been absent all morning until now.
“But I’m not afraid to admit I want more now.
I want you. And I think I deserve that, don’t I? ”
“You deserve the best.”
“You,” I whisper.
He’s on me then. His hand tightens around my hair to palm the back of my skull, and his mouth claims mine like he’s a man starved. It’s messy and breathless, and I kiss him back just as hard. I’m ready to lose myself entirely to appease the want coursing through my veins.
His free hand moves beneath the hem of my shirt, shoving the cotton bralette up so he can cup my bare breast in his warm hand.
The rough skin on his fingers feels delicious swishing over the peaked point of my nipple, and I lean into the heat blossoming low in my belly.
We’re pulling my shirt over my head, then my bralette, and he groans at the sight of my naked chest.
“I think about these tits every time I fuck my hand,” he confesses, gaze moving from one to the other like he’s trying to catalogue every minuscule difference between them.
Holden dips his head to kiss and lick the sensitive buds.
He pulls one past his lips, sucking and tugging until my nails drag over his scalp and my back arches to give him more.
I need more. I don’t know how to ask for it, so I resort to pleading with wordless sounds and breathy whimpers, rocking my hips on the truck seat in a desperate attempt to find friction.
Whether Holden senses it or he’s as greedy as I am, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the way his huge hand presses against my pussy, widening my legs with a few well-placed rolls of his thumb over my clit.
He tsks. “Angel, you're making a mess of your shorts. You’re soaked.” His knuckle nudges the fluttery fabric aside, and Holden traces the edge of my underwear with his fingertip. “So soft, too. Knew you would be when I saw that bare pussy spread out on the bed.”
I think my heart stops altogether, at least for a few seconds, at that. He kisses me again, slow and deep, in time with the barely-there pet of his fingers over top of my underwear. The thin fabric’s drenched in my arousal. And I can feel his heart racing as fast as mine.
His fingers press firmly against my clit, and I bite down on my lip with a whine. “Please don’t stop—oh God. Holden, I’ll die if you do.”
“I will, too.” His forehead falls to meet mine. “I should’ve done this months ago.”
Yes, you should have. I stare into his dark, lustful eyes, and wiggle my hips to send another rush of fireworks skittering down my thighs. My eyes fall shut, and a low hum of pleasure rises up my throat.
“Does my brother make you feel like this? Does he make you squirm and moan just from touching you over your panties?”
“I’m not answer—”
“Bet he doesn’t.” Holden licks along my jawline, blowing hot air over cool, damp skin. His short stubble scrapes my cheek. “If he did, I wouldn’t be the one making your pussy wet right now, wondering if she’s going to taste as pretty as she smells.” He inhales deeply. “You drive me crazy.”
I’m right there with him. I ball my fingers in his shirt, pulling him closer. With Holden, I feel safe to make my desires known. “Fuck him. I need you. Want you. Deserve you.”
With visible effort, he pulls away. “I don’t have any condoms.”
That should be enough to stop us in our tracks, but my heart’s pounding, skin buzzing from his touch, and the air around us already smells like sex.
“There’s plenty we can do without them.”
“Get in the back seat,” he commands.
Screw grace, humility, and ladylike mannerisms, I scramble over the center console and onto the bench seat. There’s no sense downplaying how badly I want him when the evidence coats my inner thighs and his left hand.
Holden laughs. “Love the enthusiasm.”
“Get back here before I resort to making myself come.” Spreading my knees as far apart as the small space allows, I give him a look and reach between my legs to pat the leather seat.
“Oh, my angel’s a bit of a brat, is she?”
My tummy swoops low and gets hung up on the use of my, which surely meant nothing beyond him trying to be sexy.
Holden’s much larger frame is even less graceful than mine was as he clambers into the back seat, and for a moment, we both end up in a fit of giggles. When he finally settles onto the seat—grabbing my legs and setting them on his lap—his face is ruddy with the cutest blush.
“Not my finest look,” he admits with a cringe.
Holden taking himself less seriously than ever before is actually the best look I’ve seen. I sit a little straighter, sift my hands through his hair, and kiss him. His mouth claims mine. My knees bend and spread for him.