Smoking Holt

by Sabrina York

  “What?”

  “Ash Bristol. He’s our neighbor on the left.” He raised a hand to wave. Holt glared at him. Because both Bella and Ash turned and headed back to the table.

  “He’s kinda cute,” Kristi murmured. And then when Cam frowned at her, she added, “For Bella.” She didn’t have any response when Holt frowned at her.

  But there was no more time for any frowning. Because Bella and Douche, um, Ash, reached the table just then.

  “Scoot in,” she said, waving her fingers and he did. But he immediately wished he hadn’t.

  “Why don’t you join us, Ash,” Cam offered. Cam was always offering shit like that. Why did he have to be so goddamn friendly?

  Bella slid in next to Holt on the banquette and nudged his hip to make room for Ash to slip in as well.

  Holt didn’t like the way she was sandwiched between them. Mostly he didn’t like the slice of bread on the other side of the sandwich.

  He glared at Ash and their gazes locked over Bella’s head. Holt bristled at the challenge in Ash’s eyes. He reached in his pocket to turn the vibrator up and realized it was already on max. Still on max.

  Bella’s expression was wreathed in torment. Shit. With a grumble, more to himself than to anyone else at the table—as though they were paying him any attention—he turned it off. She collapsed against him in relief. “Thank you,” she murmured. And then—because why should only one of them be stewing?—she added a whispered, “Sir.”

  Ash was a nice guy, and funny and Bella liked him, but she liked Holt’s warmth to her right even more. Though she engaged in the riotous conversation and laughed and chatted and pretended to be super interested in every word that dripped from his mouth, she was aware of only one thing. The steamy, sexy man on her right.

  The egg swam in her juices—literally swam in them. She could feel the dampness in her crotch and hoped to God it didn’t look like she’d peed herself. Her body ached, throbbed with sexual tension. Because she was still wearing that halter, and her nipples were bare, they rubbed against her shirt incessantly. On the odd occasion when she moved wrong, they scraped against the table edge, swamping her with agony.

  If she weren’t here with her sister, she would drag Holt back into the bathroom, lock him in a stall and fuck him silly.

  As it was, she didn’t think she’d be getting his cock any time soon. Even when they headed back to the house, Kristi and Cam would still be hanging around for hours—Cam never went to bed before ten. They’d probably try to start a game of hearts.

  And Bella was horny now.

  She glared at Holt, annoyed that he was engrossed in a conversation with Ash and Cam about some stupid car race. It wasn’t fair that she should be suffering like this, while he was chattering on like a NASCAR squirrel.

  So she decided to make him suffer too.

  She opened her silverware packet and dropped her napkin into her lap. One of the things she loved about Darby’s was, even though it was a friendly, down-home kind of place, they still used cloth napkins.

  Cloth napkins would serve her well at the moment.

  She eased forward—only wincing a little when her nipples scraped against the table—and put her palm on his thigh.

  He stilled. Stalled mid-word.

  The other guys waited for him to finish what he was saying, expectantly. He never did. He cleared his throat and shook his head and muttered something vague.

  With a curious glance, Cam picked up the thread of conversation and he and Ash were off again.

  But Holt was silent. Still. Because her palm was creeping up his thigh.

  When she found his cock, it was hard.

  He skewered her with a dark frown as she traced its rigid bulk. Slipping his hand under the table, he captured her wrist, dragging it away from the danger zone. She wrestled it free.

  He caught it again.

  “Bella,” he murmured in a warning tone.

  “What, Holt?”

  “Cut it out.”

  She smirked at him. “Why should I be the only one suffering?” He paled when he recognized his words from before. But then he leaned closer and whispered, “You’re gonna pay for this tonight.”

  A slash of excitement whipped through her. She couldn’t stop her wicked grin, which made him laugh, though it was a creaky laugh. A pained laugh.

  She couldn’t have been happier.

  Because she was going to pay tonight.

  She turned back to the conversation and her gaze tangled with Kristi’s. She froze.

  Shit.

  Her sister had witnessed that entire exchange. She was now studying them both through narrowed eyes.

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Kristi knew.

  Their secret was out.

  Apparently Holt had tipped to the fact Kristi knew, because just then he pretended to stretch and when he dropped his arm, it was around her shoulders. And then he pulled her against his side and kissed the shell of her ear.

  “Tonight, Bella,” he rumbled. “I can’t fucking wait.”

  No. He couldn’t wait.

  Tonight was too far away.

  His cock ached so bad it was difficult walking back to the house. With relentless determination, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. It pissed the shit out of him that Ash had decided to come back with them. He walked beside Bella chatting her up. Every smile she gave the douche was a sword in Holt’s gut.

  So it also took relentless determination not to bash his face in.

  He’d hoped Ash would veer off, down the dusty road to his own place when they reached his driveway. He didn’t. He didn’t veer.

  Because Cam—damn his hide—invited him over for a beer.

  Getting Bella away from her sister and Cam would have been difficult enough. But prying her away from a man determined to cleave to her side would be impossible.

  Holt stewed. His thoughts churned. Sweat prickled on his brow, he thought so hard. There had to be a way. Some viable excuse to cut her from the herd.

  He needed her. He needed to be in her.

  Shit, he could practically taste the cum backing up.

  As they all trouped through the back door, he grabbed her arm and held her back.

  “Bella,” he said. It was all he could manage and even at that, it was a feral growl.

  Still, she seemed to understand. “I know, Holt,” she whispered. He liked that there was a thread of desperation in her tone as well. “We’ll figure something out.”

  But what that could possibly be was a mystery.

  So they all got beers and sat around the table and chatted amiably, though how the others could miss the humming sexual tension, Holt couldn’t fathom. Bella sat next to him, her heat, her scent wrapping around him like a seductive fist. Every time she moved or spoke or—for fuck’s sake—breathed, his pulse leapt. He was about to lose it, just grab her and haul her off to his bedroom, when Kristi saved him.

  She looked at the clock on the wall. “Wasn’t there a hydroplane race today?”

  Both Cam and Ash jolted to attention. Cam loved anything that had to do with boats. Kristi was a frickin’ genius. “Shit. Yeah. What time did it start?”

  “I think it’s on now.” Wait. Was that a mischievous grin Bella’s sister just flashed at him? It was. Holt could have kissed her.

  But Bella would kill him if he did.

  The television was in the basement. They’d go down—make sure the race was really on—and then find some excuse to leave. Popcorn. Or something.

  “We should go watch it,” he said. Just in case. Just in case anyone had any other stupid ideas. It was gratifying, that scrape of chairs in response to his suggestion. Everyone stood, except Bella.

  “Aren’t you coming?” Ash asked.

  Holt’s fingers curled. You know. So he wouldn’t smash Ash’s face or some shit like that.

  Bella faked a yawn. It was a patently fake yawn. “No. I think I’ll go take a nap. You guys en
joy the race.”

  It was clear Ash wanted to linger. Stay with Bella. Follow her like a horny pup. Fuck her maybe.

  Holt slapped him on the shoulder, ostensibly pushing him toward the basement door. “This is gonna be a great race,” he said. He kind of remembered there was a rivalry brewing between two of the boat captains. “What do you say to a bet?” As everyone filed down to the basement, Holt hung back, shooting a simmering scowl at Bella. “Don’t start without me,” he murmured. “And that’s an order.”

  Chapter Ten

  Bella winced as a bolt of lust whipped through her. Holy crap, she wanted him. It had been agony, holding in the damn egg. Her cunt was on freaking fire. She couldn’t wait for Holt to sneak back upstairs—as surely that was what he was intending to do.

  It took forever.

  Forever.

  For. Ever.

  She sat there, stewing in her juices. Waiting. Aching. She was about to head down and see what was taking so damn long when the basement door creaked open. Her pulse leapt. She jumped to her feet, wincing as the egg wobbled inside her.

  But it wasn’t Holt’s dark head that appeared. It was Ash.

  Her belly plunged.

  “Hey you,” he said in a soft voice. It was a sultry tone. Shit. “I thought you were going to take a nap.”

  And he was coming to find her? She frowned. “In a bit.” And then she added, just for something to say, “I’m not a fan of hydroplane races.”

  “Ah.” She didn’t like the way he said the word. The way his gaze drifted downward. She knew her nipples were hard. Hell, they’d been hard all day. Without the cloak of her bra, they were probably beacons to a hungry wolf like Ash. He stepped closer. She eased to the right, putting the table between them.

  He followed.

  Normally, having a gorgeous guy like Ash stalk her around a table would have been a thrill and a half. But as handsome as he was, and as buff and cocky and determined—he didn’t move her in the slightest.

  Well, he moved her. Around the table.

  She felt like the secretary in a sixties spoof, avoiding a randy boss. She knew she couldn’t outmaneuver him—especially with that ridiculous egg slipping the way it was—so she whirled and confronted him, thrusting out an arm to hold him back. Her palm landed on his chest.

  Before Holt, she might have appreciated the definition of those pecs. Now, Ash’s proximity, his determination, set her teeth on edge. “Hold on there, buster.”

  He blinked. Surprised, perhaps, at her tone.

  Surprised, perhaps, that any woman would hold him off. The light in his eyes turned dark. “God,” he rumbled. “You are so damn hot.” He stepped closer and yanked her into his arms, ignoring her pathetic attempt to keep him at bay. “You nearly drove me crazy all through lunch with those come hither looks.”

  Come hither looks? What the fuck was he talking about?

  He rubbed against her. His cock was hard. “Tell me you don’t feel it.”

  Oh. She felt it.

  “Ash, let me go.” She pushed at his chest. He ignored her.

  Well, not completely. He chuckled. As though her wriggling was a come on. “I’ve wanted to do this all afternoon.” His head dipped and before she could protest, before she could wrench away, he kissed her.

  Put his mouth on hers and shoved in his tongue.

  And though her body was aching with lust, though her pussy was swimming with bubbling juice—it left her cold.

  God damn it. He’d been distracted. One flipped boat and he’d let himself lose sight of the long game. And Ash had slipped away.

  Holt knew exactly where he’d gone, what he had in mind. He leapt to his feet.

  “Where are you going?” Cam asked.

  Holt stared at his friend, willing his mind to work, willing his mouth to say something that made a modicum of sense. “Popcorn.” It was all he could manage, but it seemed to work.

  Cam nodded and turned back to the race.

  Kristi sent him a speaking glance. He was pretty sure it said: Go save my sister. He bounded—bounded—up the stairs and burst into the great room.

  His heart stopped. Breath snagged in his throat at the sight he beheld.

  Bella. In another man’s arms.

  Oh, clearly she didn’t want to be there, judging from the way she resisted, turning her head this way and that to avoid a marauding mouth. In that second, multiple emotions slammed through him. First and foremost, was rage. She was his woman. And another man had his filthy paws all over her.

  Next up in the hierarchy of raging sentiment was extreme satisfaction that she had not submitted to Ash’s kiss. He was a damn good looking guy, and suave and stinking rich to boot. According to Cam, Ash’s dad was a billionaire. Still, all that money, all those muscles weren’t enough to seduce her.

  And finally, lust. Simply lust.

  Although it was more than lust, really. It was a burning, seething desire to wrench her from the other man’s embrace, bend her over the back of the sofa and lay claim. In her cunt. Multiple times. Again and again until she was so filled with him that every other man ceased to exist.

  He’d never felt such an overwhelming sense of possession. It clawed at his soul, leaving painful scores.

  “Bella.” A sharp growl. A command.

  They both froze.

  Ash lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. Frowned.

  Holt snapped his fingers. He really shouldn’t have snapped his fingers, but he was in caveman mode.

  Unholy glee suffused him as she disentangled herself from Ash’s grip and padded to his side. She peered up at him with wide eyes. Damp eyes. Submissive eyes. He pulled her close, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “Good girl.”

  She curled up against him. Wrapping her arms around his waist. Goddamn, it felt good.

  He fixed Ash with a steady gaze. A speaking gaze.

  The douche studied the tableau they made, the commanding Dom and his obedient pet. Something, acknowledgement of defeat perhaps, flickered over his features. He blew out a breath. “Okay,” he said. “I get it. Sorry if I misread the situation.”

  Holt grunted. He couldn’t manage anything more. He jerked his head toward the basement.

  Ash scrubbed his face with a palm and chuckled. Without another word, he headed back downstairs.

  The door hadn’t closed on his ass when Holt turned to Bella. Flames seared his veins at the expression on her face, all soft and dewy and yielding.

  She smiled. “You handled that very we—”

  He didn’t let her finish. He couldn’t. He silenced her with a kiss. Ravaged her. Jesus God. He needed to wipe the memory of Ash from her mouth. Needed to wipe the thought of any other man from her mind and heart and soul.

  He backed her up against the wall and consumed her.

  Her response was feral. She nearly crawled up his body. She fisted his hair and hooked her leg around his waist and rubbed against him like a cat in heat. Her moans were muffled, her grunts swallowed.

  God he wanted her. Needed her.

  He almost forgot where they were. He almost yanked her jeans off and plowed into her right there in the great room with Kristi and Cam and Ash just downstairs. But some remnant of sanity flared. What he wanted to do to her required no witnesses. Demanded privacy.

  And the door to Lane’s room had a deadbolt.

  Bella nearly swooned when Holt lifted her into his arms—as though she weighed nothing at all—and headed for the bedroom. She wasn’t hardly a swooning sort, but she wasn’t herself at the moment. She didn’t feel rebellious or bitter or snarky in the least.

  That was certainly not independence swimming in her veins. It was raw need. A need unlike anything she’d ever felt.

  Normally she was the kind of woman who—when a man snapped his fingers at her—would snap them right off. But when Holt had snapped his fingers, all her intransigence had melted away, washed away, in a tsunami of lust.

  It was as though she had devolved to her basest stat
e. A woman in season. Hungry for her mate.

  Thank God he’d whipped her into his arms like a conquering warrior and carried her to the bedroom. She couldn’t have walked to save her life.

  The door slammed behind them. The click of the lock rumbled through to her core.

  “Holt…” she croaked. “The others…”

  He stared down at her, reading her concern. They weren’t far away. Though they were, no doubt, enraptured by the hydroplane races, they weren’t far enough away.

  “Then you’d better not make much noise.” His expression warned her it might be difficult keeping quiet. He tossed her on the bed. She bounced. “Strip,” he commanded, even as he ripped off his shirt. His features were tight, his nostrils flared. He toed off his boots and removed his jeans. Noticing her lounging on the bed enjoying the view, he barked, “Strip!”

  She whipped into action, quickly divesting herself of her clothing. When she got to the leather halter she looked at him. His nod was infinitesimal, but she caught it and, with a sigh, slipped it off.

  When her panties dropped, so did the egg. It had been hovering there on the brink of escape for a while.

  He growled.