Chapter 15
Fifteen
Holden’s standing in the open doorway, wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his waist. Dark chest hair snakes down his toned stomach, and a few rogue water droplets treat the curves of his muscles like a waterslide.
I let my gaze rake down his body, appreciating him in a way I haven’t let myself before now. Now I can look without guilt. Now he’s mine to look at.
Then my eyes snag on the gash in Holden’s lip. It’s been a few hours since the fight and, while he’s no longer bleeding, the entire area’s swollen and red. Seems painful.
“Sexy, isn’t it?” His tongue darts out to brush over the injury, and he hooks a thumb on his towel, dipping it lower in the front.
So damn cocky. I’m surprised he bothered with a towel at all.
While he showered, I snooped through the rodeo paraphernalia—buckles and trophies and photos—around his small bedroom.
Where Logan’s always made rodeo his entire personality, with evidence of his winnings clearly displayed around his house, I find it interesting that Holden keeps things neatly tucked away like this.
So guarded, even in the safety of his own home.
I can’t wait to break down the last of his walls.
I smile as I saunter his way. “Sexy like botched lip filler.”
“Damn. I can’t catch a break with you. Aren’t women supposed to swoon when their man defends their honor?”
“This is me swooning,” I deadpan.
I take a step toward him, and my fingertips plunge into the velvet hair on his chest. His scent floods my nose. Spicy, woody, warm. And he’s soft to touch, except where he’s very hard against my stomach.
He pinches my side, making me squirm, and an unbecoming snort escapes me.
“Okay, okay, okay.” I laugh under my breath. “My hero. However will I repay you?”
Holden’s hands settle over my ass and give a firm squeeze, shifting my hips so that the length of him grinds against my sensitive clit. I’m wearing one of his old rodeo T-shirts, and the hem drags up my thigh with each slow movement.
“Devil to hero. What a comeback story.” He kisses my forehead, his body tensing from the brief pain when his lips press to my skin. “I know how you can thank me.”
“Yeah?” The arousal tenting his towel is too big of a temptation to resist. I slide my palm down his body and tug at the folded over terry cloth, so the whole thing falls to a puddle at his feet, and I stretch my fingers around his thick cock.
A sigh of surrender eddies out of him, and he leans into my touch, forehead falling to meet mine.
“Do you still have that toy?” His hips lazily thrust forward into my touch. “The one you had in the trailer.”
A jolt of desire, embarrassment—both—hits me, and my hand on him stills. The Emasculator. After so many arguments with Logan about the damn thing, a single shitty comment from Holden might push me to finally throw it out.
Before I can answer, he continues, “Please tell me you do. I was so pissed at myself for not being quieter when I walked in on you that night. I wish I could’ve watched you.”
His hot breath whispers against my ear, and he licks, then bites, at my lobe. His cock twitches in my grasp, sticky precum coating my fingers.
“Would you have let me watch, angel?”
“If… if I knew you wanted to.” I stroke the length of him, eliciting a ravenous growl from deep in his chest.
“Then be a good girl for me and grab the toy.”
Without a word, I obey. For a moment, the only sounds are the pad of my bare feet on the hardwood floor, the slow drag of my suitcase zipper, and Holden’s lumbering breath when I pull the massage wand from its sheath.
He’s sitting at the foot of his bed, watching with an expression that’s equal parts lustful and pained. And I settle into the throne of pillows, letting my oversized T-shirt pool around my hips, exactly like I was before he caught me.
“Show me how you touch that pretty little pussy.” His voice is low and obscene. “I’ve been fucking suffering—dying—since that night. Show me what I was missing.”
My thighs fall apart. My neediness is on display for him. The way I’ve soaked through the cotton underwear.
Holden clutches at the bedding, knuckles nearly white against the dark green comforter. His cheeks are flush, swallow audible, body visibly rigid.
The vibrator comes to life, a loud purr filling the small, dimly lit bedroom.
“You weren’t wearing panties,” he notes.
Right. I wasn’t. And of course he remembers that.
Slowly, I pull my underwear down my bare legs, watching his eyes as the light pink cotton slips off my feet. Clearly mesmerized, he runs a hand through his still-damp hair.
Then I press the vibrating toy against my pussy, moaning.
“Fuuck,” he groans. “That’s it. Take care of that beautiful little clit for me. How good does that feel?”
I respond with a needy noise low in my throat, chasing the throbbing need between my legs, the heat knotted in my core threatening to unfurl already. Wanting turned into needing. I’ve never been this close, this fast.
A rush of pleasure heats my legs, and my thighs slam closed around the toy instinctively as I writhe on his bed. Muscles straining, head thrown back, I’m barreling towards—
Holden wrenches the toy from my grasp before I come. I let out a desperate whine, sounding like the air has been choked out of me.
Leaving the wand humming on the bed, he grabs at my thighs, dragging my body toward his. Forceful and demanding. So fucking hot. His nails dig into my flesh as he manhandles me, placing my feet on his shoulders, hoisting my ass off the bed.
And when he shoves his cock deep enough for his balls to slap against my wet skin, I cry out his name.
“This is what I should’ve done that night. I should’ve made you mine right then and there.”
“You did.” I belonged to Holden from the moment he made me come without even touching me. Before that, even. From the moment he started invading every thought, turning them salacious.
Now he’s here, filling every part of me.
“Finally, you’re mine.” He punctuates each word with a thrust.
Finally, I’m his.
Holden moves inside me, and his fettered breath blows hot against my ankles. Wet, slapping skin fills the room, tangling with our low, primal moans. It all echoes, against the walls and in my chest. Finally having the space, the freedom, to be together is ecstasy.
“You’re mine, angel. And this pussy is my heaven.” One of his hands leaves its position on my hip to reach for the still-buzzing wand. “Come, baby. Let me show you heaven, too.”
“I thought hell was more your vibe,” I tease, breathless and wanton. I rake my nails down his chest, stopping briefly to feel his thunderous heartbeat against my palm.
“It was.” He punishes my pussy with a deep, powerful slam. A tiny squeak slips from my lips. “Before you.”
“Holden,” I whimper. “More. Please.”
The vibrating head of my toy presses to my sensitive clit. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to wriggle out from under his heavy body, away from the callused hand holding tight to my hip.
But I also want to come. And that’s quickly escalating to a painful need to come. I need to let go.
“Fuckfuckfuck,” I moan.
“You feel incredible,” he says under his breath. The hot slide of him inside me becomes erratic, his entire body stiffening. “I’m coming. Fuck. I’m—”
Pupils blown out, Holden works the vibrator over my clit, and his mouth falls open with a primal groan, the split in his lip pulled taut—probably splitting further.
Then I’m in a rip current of pleasure, wave after torturous wave. My orgasm barrels into me, until every sense is lost, and it’s only Holden, Holden, Holden. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My legs must have spasmed so hard the fell from his shoulders, because suddenly his body is draped over mine, and his face is buried in the crook of my neck as he comes inside me.
His muttered praise—telling me how well I did, how beautiful I am, how perfect—is barely audible with my pulse hammering in my ears.
Holden slumps in satisfaction, and the feel of his body pinning mine to the mattress is like a weighted blanket. I inhale as deeply as I can and tenderly run my hands down his sweat-slicked back.
Pressing up onto his elbows, Holden’s gaze meets mine and we stare at each other for timeless moments. My hand slides along the rumpled bedspread until I find his work-hardened skin, and our fingers knot together.
“Still hot even though we aren’t sneaking around anymore?” he asks. “I know you like me better when you hate me.”
I laugh softly, cupping his face with my free hand. I brush my thumb over his cut lip. “That’s true.”
“I’ll set up between your thighs for the entire night. I’m sure eventually you’ll get so tired of me playing with your pussy, you’ll tell me to fuck off.”
I raise a brow. “All night?”
“Fuck, I’d live there, if you let me.”
I kiss him, smiling against his soft, warm lips. And I feel him smile back.
And not that I’d admit it, but I like him a lot better when I’m falling in love with him.