by Ivy Carter
I practically stumble off the stool in my haste, and he grabs my elbow gently, while I regain balance.
At the door, Holden pulls me close and hangs his arms around my waist. I look up at his handsome face. Emotion clogs at the back of my throat.
“Thanks for a perfect night,” he says.
A delicious thrill runs up and down my spine.
He gently touches his lips to mine.
I am awash in guilt. But I can’t ignore the impact I’ve had on his life, without him knowing who I am.
Every cell in my body begs me to come clean. A confession lingers on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t get the words out. Damn it. Telling Holden who I am is the right thing to do. There isn’t—can’t be—another option. But as I look into Holden’s glistening eyes, my heart leaps into my throat, effectively cutting off my vocal chords.
Maybe I don’t have to tell him right….now. Not when we’ve finally gotten somewhere real. Not when we’re finally past the cool, hard exterior and into a part of Holden that’s even more alluring and mysterious.
Holden leans in for another kiss, this time lingering on my lips as last night’s memories come flooding back. My knees buckle. A deep sigh pulls from my mouth.
“I need to get out of here before I lose my willpower altogether,” he says, with a quick nip at the corner of my mouth. He opens the door, and kisses me lightly again, just as a group of college girls walk by on their way out of the dorm. My body stills. I’m sure I can hear them whispering about me. About Holden. About us.
No use pretending that they won’t recognize him. Holden Quinn is on the cover of three different magazines this month alone—a copy of each is tucked away in the drawer of my bedside table.
“People will say things about us,” I whisper.
He turns to watch the girls, just as they round the corner, giggling and glancing over their shoulders like high school cheerleaders, not college students. Holden pulls me close, his chest firm against mine. To my shock, my nipples go instantly hard and sensitive to his touch.
“Then let’s give them something to talk about, sweetness,” he says, closing his mouth over mine.
My stomach lurches with guilt. I should not want this. I don’t deserve it, not after everything I’m doing to deceive him. But damn if I don’t have the strength to pull away. And it feels so nice just to give in…
“I’ll see you tonight,” he says, finally breaking free. “7 p.m. at the office. Don’t be late.”
Chapter 16
Lindsay flops down on the sofa and folds her arms across her ample chest. I’ve never considered plastic surgery before—Holden seems absolutely fine with my breasts—but I admit, there’s something to be said for not having to wear a bra.
I lift my head, grateful for the brief reprieve in my studies. “What’s up buttercup?”
Her sigh is heavy.
She curls her feet up under her butt and shifts so we’re face to face. I sense her question before she asks, and immediately tense up. “So, Holden,” she says. “Things are kind of serious, huh?”
I swallow hard enough that it comes out a gulp. “Not really…”
She arches her manicured eyebrows. “You’ve seen him five nights in a row—and slept over once, maybe twice. He’s stayed the night here, too. That’s not serious?”
“It’s complicated,” I say.
My text chirps and she waits for me to look at it. My heart squeezes with instant relief. It’s Holden. No interview tonight—just the theatre. Dress nice.
Time?
A smile plays on Lindsay’s lips. “Must be Holden. You’re glowing.”
My cheeks grow warm. “I guess we’re going to a show tonight.”
“Like a movie?”
I shake my head. “The theatre.” My mouth goes dry. “Shit, what the hell am I going to wear?”
Lindsay’s eyes twinkle. “Well, that’s at least one thing I can help you with.” She jumps to her feet and holds out her hand. “Come with me, my pretty. I’m sure there’s something in my closet that will fit.”
The V-neck on Lindsay’s royal blue dress plunges almost down to my belly button. Somehow, with a ton of tweaking and a few pieces of magic “tape” my boobs are held in place, but I might as well be naked the way Holden is staring at me.
“I approve of the outfit,” he says.
My tongue jabs the inside of my cheek. “Thought you might.”
There’s a light teasing to my voice that hides the nervousness buzzing through me. It’s getting harder not to think of evenings like this as dates, when we bypass the interview questions, and go to dinner or the theatre—the theatre!—instead of the office.
Worse still, I’m sinking deeper into this fantasy world I’ve created with my web of lies. I keep thinking that tomorrow I will tell him the truth, but as each day passes and I continue the deception, the weight on my shoulders increases exponentially.
Tonight could be the night I finally come clean…
The limo inches through downtown Manhattan toward Broadway, and my skin prickles with anticipation. I’ve lived in New York for almost a year and never been to a show. Mom took me to Phantom of the Opera in Canada once, but somehow I doubt the experience will be anywhere close to the same.
“What are we going to see?” I ask, aware of Holden’s presence. His scent, his aura—they’re overwhelming. Consuming. The tingle between my thighs reminds me of just how much.
Holden’s mouth twitches. “Chicago.”
Not the show I expected, but it doesn’t matter. The second the car pulls up to the curb outside the theatre, my pulse comes alive with excitement. Holden gets out of the car first, and walks around the back to my door. He extends his hand, and I take it, stepping out onto the sidewalk amid a chorus of soft gasps from a gathering crowd.
All of a sudden it hits me—Holden’s life is not private, no matter what intimate details of his past he keeps to himself. There are paparazzi everywhere. I duck my head, unaccustomed to the attention, and Holden puts his arm around me, guiding me to the front door and away from the flashing cameras.
“I should have called ahead to clear the path,” Holden says, sounding annoyed.
“It’s fine.” At least it should be, if I wasn’t terrified that my face would be splashed on the news and someone—aside from my ever-watchful mother—would recognize me. My throat constricts. Oh my God. What if someone tells Holden who I am, or he reads about it in the news, before I can explain?
I grip his arm. “We need to talk.”
He glances down, eyebrows narrowed in confusion. “Can it wait, sweetness? The show starts in a few minutes.”
It can’t wait—but it doesn’t look like I have a choice. I bite my lip and nod. Holden pats my hand, almost condescending, oblivious to the tension taking hold of my body, and guides me to our front row seats. Someone puts two glasses of champagne in our hands, and the lights dim.
There’s no time to doubt or worry, or do much thinking about anything but this moment. Because Holden slips his hand in mine, leans close, and whispers, “Enjoy the show, sweetness. It’s always been one of my favorites.”
The first actors appear on stage, the music starts, and I forget everything.
Everything but how full my heart feels in this moment.
Chapter 17
“We can skip the question tonight,” I say, chewing on my bottom lip. It will mark the third evening in a row that we’ve spent time together without an interview.
Holden’s jaw tenses. I can almost see the war playing out in his mind. He’s in another mood, and unless I find some way to crack it, then I’m afraid he’s going to send me home—without touching a single part of my body.
Which would suck, since I’m quite comfortable in his apartment.
“No strings,” I say, with a shrug of nonchalance that doesn’t even fool myself.
“I’d fuck you regardless of whether you asked me a damn question or not,” he says. His fingers move deftly through t
he fridge as he withdraws marinated chicken, and an assortment of cut vegetables. Each dish hits the countertop with a flinching thunk. “Do you like stir fry?”
I’ve offered to cook—whatever mess that would be—but he deflects with some kind of excuse every time. I guess it’s easy to throw something together when your chef does all the prep work. All food becomes convenient, at that point.
“Stir fry sounds nice.”
He grunts out some kind of approval, and then pulls out a wok from one of the bottom kitchen cupboards. Once the chicken is sizzling, he pours me a glass of white wine. Another bottle of something expensive, this label too long for me to pronounce. I take a sup. “It’s good…light.”
Another grunt.
Yeesh. I can tell how tonight’s conversation is going to go.
“What about you?” I say, nodding my head toward the empty glass. “Not having wine?”
He shakes his head. “Whiskey.”
I blow out a sigh. At this crossroads, I have a couple of choices. I can stick it out, hoping that his mood improves. Or I can leave.
Holden tosses the vegetables on top of the chicken and puts the lid on, allowing the steam to cook through our incredibly delicious-scented meal. Leaving without eating doesn’t make much sense.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he says, finally, after taking a long pull from his drink. He holds the edge of the glass almost absent-mindedly.
“I can see that.” He turns and shakes the wok, mixing all of the ingredients together, and leans up against the counter. I can almost feel the stress radiating off him. “Is it work?”
His expression darkens.
I take a deep breath. “Okay fine. Your job is off limits.” Along with a bunch of other shit, which is only just now beginning to annoy me. Sometimes it’s like navigating a mine field trying to tiptoe around his mood swings.
My pulse thrums. I slide off the stool and come up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist while he tends to the wok. His whole body stiffens. I slip one hand beneath the waist band of his pants, and grab his cock. He sucks in a breath. “What the hell are you doing?”
Ignoring the edge to his voice, I begin sliding my hand up and down his shaft, loving the way it begins to thicken under my palm, needing to make him feel at ease. I cup his balls in my hand and squeeze. “Maybe you just need a little TLC.”
I’m acting bold, but the truth is, I’m trembling. Whatever darkness lurks under the surface of Holden’s cool facade is clawing its way out. Instinct tells me I should get out of there—but my damn heart has other plans. It’s too late to run. I’m already in way too deep.
Holden flicks off the stove and turns. The look in his eyes is raw desire, and my pulse spikes with a dangerous cocktail of fear and excitement. He’d never physically hurt me, I know that, but there’s something so hot about sex with him when it’s a little rough.
He pulls me close and plants his mouth on mine, effectively ending any further conversation. His hips grind up against my crotch while his tongue probes between my lips. His moves are frantic, almost desperate, as if for one second, he thought I might walk away too.
A girl could get lost in that power.
I don’t protest when he lifts me off the kitchen floor and carries me blindly to his bedroom down the hall. His hands hitch up under my buttocks and dig in as I wrap my legs around his lean torso. My teeth sink into his shoulder.
“I hope you know what you’re asking for, sweetness,” he growls.
My heart skips a beat.
In the bedroom, he lays me on the mattress and climbs up next to me. One hand is on my breast, and the other yanks my T-shirt up to expose my stomach. I tense under his scrutiny. My skin feels electric, almost alive. It amazes me how my body responds to his touch. Like I’m the only woman in the world he wants to kiss, to hold, to fuck.
A goose egg-sized lump lodges at the back of my throat.
My damn fantasies are taking over again. But how can they not when Holden’s gaze travels up and down my body with a hunger that makes my knees go weak. He shoves his hand down my skirt and grazes the top of my pussy through the underwear.
I curse myself for not wearing something sexier.
“One day I’ll buy lingerie,” I whisper.
He grins. “Yeah? Something red?”
I smile. “And lacey.”
“I love it.”
I love you.
My eyes go wide as I realize how close I’ve come to saying the words aloud. Holden doesn’t seem to notice my internal struggle. He has already begun to strip me off my skirt, my underwear, until I lay bottomless on the bed, my pussy exposed and wet.
Every hair on my body stands at attention as I wait for his lead.
It’s always like this, the anticipation of what he’ll do next.
“You’re sure this what you want, sweetness?’
I swallow any hesitation and nod. “Yes.”
Now. Always. No matter how often we spend together my body can’t get enough. I can’t get enough, and I’m all too aware of how dangerous that is.
Holden crawls back onto the bed and hovers over me, pinning my wrists to the sheets with his weight. The heat of skin against skin ignites like it’s on fire. Reaching with one hand, he pushes my hair off my shoulders, allowing clear access for his tongue to swipe along my throat. I crane my neck, inviting him to nibble on my earlobe. Holy fuck. It’s like fire and ice.
His teeth and mouth work in unison, and I writhe under his body. Just when I think I can’t take any more, the low vibrato of his voice thrums against my eardrum, unleashing a fresh wave of warmth between my legs. I wriggle beneath his body, pawing at his chest, desperate for access to any part of him.
“Kiss me, Holden.”
He hesitates for so long I worry he might not want the intimacy. But then he leans toward me, and when at long last his mouth finds mine, I part my lips to allow his tongue inside. The kiss deepens quickly, becoming more urgent and desperate. I can scarcely catch my breath. He devours my mouth in a frenzy that kick starts my pulse and send it into overdrive. My heartbeat cranks to full speed.
“I’m going to kiss every part of your body, sweetness.”
And I absolutely believe that he will. His mouth moves from my lips to my jaw, and down the slope of my neck. He nips at my shoulders, and trails his tongue between my breasts. His breath is hot, the air cool. Wicked sensations scream through me. When his tongue pauses to circle my nipple, my breath comes in sharp gasps.
“Jesus, Holden…”
He pays no mind to my weak protest, and cradles my nipple between his teeth. Gently, he begins to suck. The pressure softens, intensifies, ebbs and flows. Dear Lord, I want it all. Everything. Now. I arch my hips, meeting the push and pull of his rhythm, and without warning, my insides begin to uncoil.
I tamp back the emotions gathering at the base of my throat, reminding myself that the foundation for this indecent arrangement is nothing more than untethered sex. But sweet Jesus, it will be worth it. Whatever reservations I still have, there’s no doubt about it—I will remember this the rest of my life.
My hand finds the back of his head, and I draw his hair into my fist, pushing his mouth harder against my flesh. He nips, sucks, bites down hard enough to make me cry out, before dragging his lips to my other breast to give it the same undivided attention.
My fingertip rolls around the free nipple, raw from his teeth. No matter how hard I try, I can’t mimic the motions, the tinge of surprise that both pleasures and pains. The frustration is cut off by the shocking rise of a climax that hits without warning. I’m so turned on that even the subtlest motions could trigger a full-on release.
Surely there must be a reason for it.
Something more potent than carnal lust. An emotion deeper, more powerful than love.
Does he feel it too?
I search his face, but find nothing to give me a sense of how he’s feeling.
Holden pulls his mouth away and sits uprig
ht to unbutton his pants. He reaches down to spring free his cock, and I suck in a gasp. His size always startles me, no matter how often we fuck. And the sight of it—hard and ready—fills me with brazen desire.
I need him inside me.
Need him to mark me, make me his.
Fuck it. I just need him.
“You’re amazing,” I whisper, my voice filled with awe.
His mouth twists into a sexy grin. He climbs off the bed to finish undressing. His eyes lock in on my pussy, and his tongue slides across his bottom lip. I’m sure my juices have soaked through my panties and I love that he can’t tear his gaze away. In this moment, he belongs to me.
I know it won’t last, but I’ll take whatever I can get.
Holden kneels at the edge of the bed and puts his hands on my knees to pry apart my legs. I spread wide to make way for his mouth. The second his tongue dives into my crotch, my hips buck almost involuntarily, and I grip the sheets tight in my fists. I turn my head to the side, burying my cheek against the pillow. My vision fills with dots.
Holden’s voice is muffled against my pussy. “Hold still, sweetness. I’m only just getting started.”
The floodgates erupt. Hot juice flows between my thighs, wetting the comforter, maybe soaking right through to the mattress for all I can tell. A whimper sneaks out from my throat. I want to beg him to touch me, taste me, suck me dry, but the second his mouth closes in around my throbbing clit, it’s game over.
All I can do is pant.
The orgasm starts to build. I force it back, drawing out the pleasure for as long as I can. Please God, don’t let this night end. His tongue plunges into my pussy, pulls out, dives in again and again. I hold on to the side of the mattress as he devours me, curling the sheets under my fingers so tightly my knuckles go white.
My clit pulsates. I start gasping, my breath coming out in rasps.
