Hold Me Close: A Cinnamon Roll Box Set

by Talia Hibbert

  But, clearly, the things in Rae’s head were important to Zach. He got it. In fact, it seemed like he got her at a fundamental level. Like he saw her in a way no-one had ever cared to before.

  Her stunned silence must have gone on a little too long, because he said quickly, “We don’t have to use this, obviously. You can throw it away right now, if you want. You know what you’re doing.”

  “Zach…” She trailed off, shaking her head in disbelief. “I absolutely do not know what I’m doing. Ever.”

  He cracked a smile. “I know. But it’d be rude to point that out.”

  “Oh, and you’re never rude,” she muttered, but there was no bite to her sarcasm. She couldn’t manage it. She studied the colourful pages, and for a moment, ridiculous tears prickled behind her eyes. He’d highlighted the signing she was booked to attend, the workshops she might be interested in. He’d written notes in the margins in his messy scrawl, like the sweetest spider on earth had crawled across the page on inky feet.

  If we go to that breakfast, we can have a late lunch to fit this marketing workshop in.

  Do you like this author? I recognise her name and I think you’re the one who gave it to me.

  She didn’t have the words to describe what a relief this was—or rather, she did, but they were all too earnest and adoring. Setting them free right now, while she brimmed with ill-advised emotion, would be like striking a match in a room full of gas. For Christ’s sake, all he’d done was print out a schedule and make some notes, except that wasn’t all, because he’d done it for her—and the way that made her feel…

  No. No. He’s my friend. That’s all this feeling is: just friendship and desire.

  Yeah. Like books were just paper and ink.

  Still, she pulled herself together and gave Zach a purely platonic pat on the shoulder. Then, for emphasis, she said, “Thanks, mate.”

  He arched a brow, maybe because her voice was rougher than gravel, maybe because she’d just used the word mate for the first time in her life. “No problem. So, what’s the plan?”

  “This—” she tapped the folder “—is now, officially, the plan. We’re already registered, so after we get settled in, we’ll…” She consulted the newly christened Master Schedule. “We’ll go down to dinner. I suppose it’s a good chance to, er, mingle.”

  He chuckled. “You sound thrilled. I take it mingling is your favourite thing.”

  “Oh, yeah. For sure.” She ignored his smirk and went to unzip her suitcase, dumping out the stack of books at the top. “I need a shower, but you should go first.”

  “If that’s what you want.” He paused on his way to the bathroom, running a hand over her pile of books. “So, this is why your suitcase weighs as much as a baby elephant. I should’ve known. Hey, what’s—?”

  “Nothing,” she said quickly, snatching a heavy, silver-blue book from his hand. Of course that one would catch his eye. It was her favourite cover of all time, after all, with its iridescent colours, its delicate lines, its embossed lettering. Lettering that looked particularly beautiful on the author’s name.

  But, judging by the look of faint amusement Zach shot her, he hadn’t noticed that last part. “You know, it’s okay if you read sex books,” he said dryly. “You don’t need to hide it.”

  She scoffed, shoving the book firmly under her pyjamas. “Sex books? I’m assuming you mean erotica.”

  “Whatever you want to call it. I can’t judge. I read Ruth’s freaky comic, after all.”

  She paused, narrowing her eyes at him. She knew about Ruth’s web comic, but sci-fi wasn’t her thing, so she’d never actually read it. “What’s freaky about Ruth’s comic?”

  “Three words,” he said. “Alien desk sex.”

  Rae tried to process that for a moment, then decided it wasn’t going to happen. “Take a shower, Davis.”

  He shook his head, chuckling at her expression. “Are you scandalised? You are.”

  “No,” she lied. “I’m not.”

  “You’re cute, sometimes, you know that?”

  “Piss off.”

  “Real cute.”

  She glared at his retreating back until he was safely locked in the bathroom. Then she unpacked the things she needed tonight and shoved the rest of her suitcase into the wardrobe, including the hidden book she shouldn’t have. When she was done, she flopped down on the bed and listened to the spray of the shower through the wall. Tried not to think about Zach standing under it. Counted the dots in the dot-patterned carpet and did not let her mind wander.

  Fifteen minutes later, Zach walked out of the bathroom with dark jeans hanging low on his hips and a navy, collared shirt… in his hands. Which was, Rae reflected, both a useless and wonderful place for a shirt to be. He was humming to himself, but her mind was too scrambled to decipher the tune. She couldn’t process sound and watch water droplets roll over his skin.

  Of course, she shouldn’t be watching the droplets at all, should she? Giving herself a mental slap, Rae tore her gaze away—and found his eyes on hers. Burning. Intense.

  His absent humming stopped abruptly. For a heartbeat, the air seemed to crackle with electricity, like thunder might boom at any moment and shake them both to their cores. But the clock ticked, a second passed, and the tension vanished. She wondered if he’d felt it at all.

  He turned his back on her, facing the mirror as he put on his shirt. “Sometimes I have no idea what you’re thinking.”

  Thank God. “I was thinking you must be allergic to clothing. You seem to spend half your life barely dressed.”

  He snorted, buttoning up the shirt. Bit by bit, the carved brilliance of his body disappeared. She wanted to rip the fabric off his back and set it on fire, then do the same to every shirt within a five-mile radius, just in case. “I promise I’m not allergic. Just lazy. Er…” Something uncertain entered his voice, and she saw him frown in the mirror. “Does it bother you? Because—”

  Oh, no. She wasn’t about to make him feel awkward just because she had a sordid sort-of-crush. “It doesn’t bother me,” she said firmly, forcing a jovial laugh. Pretending he was Nate or Evan. “But you know how I get around muscles.”

  It worked. He chuckled. “Yeah, I know. You lost it when we saw Aquaman.”

  Her cheeks heated. “I don’t think I was that bad.”

  “Are you joking? I think you actually moaned a few times.” He turned around, giving her a sweet, innocent smile. “It’s okay if you came a little bit. I’m sure you’re not alone.”

  She slapped her hands over her face. “You’re so fucking annoying. I’m going to shower.”

  He laughed as she scurried away, blissfully unaware that she was just as into him as she was into Jason Momoa. On a physical level, obviously, which was the only level Rae felt anything. Ever. She spent the length of her cold shower reminding herself of that fact, scrubbing her skin clean and her mind free of Zach-related thoughts. By the time she’d wriggled into her outfit and slapped on some makeup, she’d all but forgotten the whole thing. She was too busy staring at her own reflection and thinking about what a twat she looked.

  This was why she hated Events with a capital E. She never felt excited or sparkly enough, so she’d make up for it by dressing nice and jabbing herself in the eye with a mascara wand. Then she’d come face to face with the finished product and realise she looked like her usual dull self, playing dress-up. Her lipstick was too bright, she should learn to use concealer, her eyebrows were uneven, and now she was agonising over her appearance like she’d travelled back in time to her teens.

  Rae had not enjoyed her teens.

  She checked her watch, sighed, and unlocked the bathroom door. Zach was lying on his side of the bed, a mirror image of the way she’d waited for him to shower. He had the hotel brochure in his hands and appeared to be reading the list of amenities like it was fine literature. There was a slight wrinkle between his dark eyebrows and a silky-straight lock of ebony hair slashed over his pale forehead. For some reaso
n, she couldn’t stop staring at his socks, charcoal grey against the white sheets. He had big feet. She shouldn’t be surprised.

  “What’d you do in there?” he asked, turning a page. “Sacrifice a—?” He looked up, and the words cut out like he’d swallowed his tongue. His brows rose, his gaze raking over her like she’d turned into an alien.

  She swallowed, dredging up a smile. “Did I sacrifice a what?”

  No dice. He remained silent as he studied her, though at least he’d closed his mouth now.

  She shut her eyes and fingered the hem of her skirt. She’d meant for the cream swing dress to give her a sexy-smart dinner look, only it felt a bit too short. She’d gained some weight recently, so now her arse and belly took up fabric that her legs were sorely missing. Sigh. “Do I look ridiculous?”

  “No.”

  Rae opened her eyes and checked his expression. Zach looked deadly serious. Emphasis on deadly. She relaxed. “Oh. Good. I don’t often wear makeup—”

  “You never wear makeup,” he said. “I have never in my life seen you wearing makeup.” He stood and crossed the hotel room in three strides, until he was right up in her space. His gaze settled on her lipsticked mouth and he huffed out a breath, nostrils flaring. He was in dragon mode. He’d start breathing fire in a second; then he’d catch her in the cage of his sharp teeth and fly her away to his lair. Maybe in a hundred years some knight would come to rescue her, and she’d say, “Oh, sorry for the misunderstanding, but I actually like it here.” Then Zach would eat the knight alive.

  “Your lips,” he told her gravely, “are red.”

  She blinked. “Yep. That’s, er, the colour they should be. Based on the lipstick that I, you know, applied. So. Thanks for the confirmation.”

  He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even tell her to shut up. He looked down at her body, his jaw tight. “Is this because of Kevin?”

  The question was so unexpected, she thought she might’ve misheard. “Kevin?”

  Helpfully, he added, “Your ex-husband.”

  “Oh, yes, that Kevin. I do get confused, sometimes.” She rolled her eyes, irritated. “No, this is not because of Kevin. I thought I should look nice for dinner. You’re wearing a shirt, for God’s sake.”

  “I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. The simple honesty in his voice had just knocked the air out of her.

  Before she could formulate an answer, he added, “I didn’t know you owned a dress.”

  “I own several, but why would I bother shaving my legs just to waste the sight on Duke and Mrs. Needham at the news shop?”

  The joke, or maybe just her light-hearted tone, punctured his intense bubble. His lips twitched. A moment later, he chuckled under his breath. “Yeah. Fair point. Listen, let’s do this again, okay?”

  Um… “Do what?”

  “This. The moment. I freaked out. But what’s supposed to happen is, you come out of the bathroom and it’s this whole reveal, and I say you look like Halle Berry or something. Yeah. Go on.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, steering her toward the bathroom door. “Let’s do this again.”

  She blinked, caught between confusion and slow, steady affection. “You want me to go in there and walk out again?”

  “Yep. Not until I’m ready, though. Go.”

  She must be high after applying her makeup in a room full of deodorant fumes because for some reason, she went along with it.

  A few seconds after she re-entered the bathroom, he called, “Ready.”

  Fighting a grin, she marched into the bedroom. He was sitting down, just like before, apparently reading the hotel brochure—but he clearly wasn’t focusing on the words. Something lovely danced in his eyes and played at the corners of his mouth.

  Slowly, he asked, “What’d you do in there? Sacrifice a sea sponge?”

  “Seriously?” she snorted. “That’s what you’re going with? A sea sponge?”

  “What else could you sacrifice in a bathroom? I considered saying giant sewer rat, but I didn’t want to freak you out.”

  “Good call,” she said dryly.

  And, finally, finally, he looked up.

  This was all pretend. He’d seen her five bloody minutes ago. Even so, his gaze bit into her like jumper cables and revved the hell out of her engine. He put down the brochure, stood, and said, “Something McRae, you look fucking incredible.”

  Laughter bubbled out of her. “Something again? You know, I think I like it.”

  “Lauren,” he said, stepping toward her. “Charlotte. Amy.”

  “If only.”

  “Heaven. Angel. Divinity.” His socked feet nudged her stockinged ones. His hands cupped her upper arms, and she felt an odd tension thrum through his body and shudder into hers.

  “No,” she managed to whisper, “but I’m glad you’re thinking bigger.”

  He whispered, too. “Rae. You. Look. Beautiful.”

  “Thank you. And, Zach—I don’t know what you were talking about, before, but no matter what you wear, you could never embarrass me.”

  He smiled that lazy-sexy smile. “I don’t know about that. Next to you, most guys would seem lacking. And now you’re wearing—Christ, sunshine, are those earrings?”

  “Yep. I pulled out all the stops.”

  “Didn’t even know you had piercings.” He arched a brow. “Hey, want to know about my pierc—?”

  “Nope. Let’s go to dinner now.” She whirled around, grabbed her shoes, and slid them on as she went. He followed her into the corridor, laughing all the way. The warmth between them filled her up like helium.

  She shouldn’t want anything else from him, not when he already made her so happy. But she’d always been a little bit greedy.

  Chapter 8

  Was it weird to fixate on the way a woman typed? Probably.

  Ten minutes into the buffet dinner, Rae’s face lit up and she reached for her phone. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just got an idea. Do you mind if I write it down?”

  Zach waved her on and watched her hands. He was well aware of the men around them studying her long, brown legs beneath the table; her mouth, red like a warning sign; the breasts her dress clung to so lovingly. But all he could focus on were those hands: the way she laced her fingers together at the back of her phone, creating a careful cradle. The thoughtful hover of her thumbs over each key, like the words she chose mattered, down to the very letter. Then there was her frown of concentration and the press of her tongue inside her cheek…

  He blinked away, disorientated, as if he’d been staring into the sun.

  Earlier, when she’d come out of the bathroom, he’d wondered for one wild moment if she wanted Kevin’s attention. As a friend who protected her interests and hated her ex-husband in solidarity, Zach had been unnerved by the possibility. But he should’ve known better; these days, Rae lived for herself. Whether or not she saw it, felt it, believed in it all the time, she was Ravenswood Rae no matter where she went. He’d stay by her side until she grew comfortable enough to realise that, and it would be no hardship.

  In the lift, she’d sent her reflection pleased little smiles that made his heart melt.

  Now, she stopped typing and looked up. When their eyes met, she smiled and leaned forward, her feet nudging his beneath the table. She might as well have set him on fire. Just the slightest brush of contact, leather on leather, and his whole body thrilled to life like they’d never touched before. Jesus.

  “Done,” she said excitedly. “I’m not sure where that came from, but thank God it came at all.”

  Great,” he croaked, still grappling with the sensations spiralling through him. “Lots of magical murder going on in your head, then?”

  “Tons,” she said with satisfaction. God, he liked her satisfaction.

  “Do you want to rush through dinner, so you can go upstairs and write?”

  “Oh, that’s a great idea. If you don’t mind. I should strike while my brain’s
being cooperative,” she said, and went back to devouring her plate of tempura prawns like it was her last meal. Unsurprisingly, she finished before he could manage his steak, and got up for a second course.

  Which is how Zach ended up alone at the table, chewing overdone beef like a cow with cud, while a swarm of eager men chatted Rae up by the fucking pasta bar. For some reason, he found the sight profoundly irritating.

  A guy on the table to his left leaned over, smiling beneath a bristly, white moustache. “That’s the missus, eh?”

  Zach grunted.

  “She’s impressive, that one,” the man said.

  It was true, and it sounded complimentary, so Zach grunted again. Thank God for the food in his mouth. Without it, he might’ve said something rude like Fuck off and leave me to my creepy staring.

  The poor guy seemed to get the message, anyway.

  Rae now had a serving spoon in her hand, but she couldn’t reach the chicken arrabiata because she was still surrounded by men. Older men with grey hair and gravitas who were probably successful writers with brilliant minds like hers. She seemed to know most of them, and she looked happy enough, so he couldn’t interrupt. Which was fine. She deserved to be fawned over. He, as her friend, was glad. The tight, hot feeling in his middle was a very pure and platonic kind of pleasure.

  Eventually, she grabbed some pasta and left her adoring fans in the dust. For the next hour, she sparkled like champagne while Zach grew dull beside her, hovering helplessly over his own body, watching himself be grim and difficult. He didn’t know what was happening, and he couldn’t seem to control it. Still, forcing smiles and seeming fine had been his coping mechanism for years, so he tried his best.