We eat in silence, only catching up a little here and there as we finish our meal. Making nothing but vague small talk. He doesn’t want to talk about Will or Sam or even where the fuck he’s been for the last eight years. I don’t want to talk about Sam or Katy. And definitely not Liz so our conversation is surface at best. I know that he’s got demons. Big ones too. But I also know that he’s my brother and he’s got my back and I’ll have his. At the very least, things are going to be interesting around here.
CHAPTER 22
Aliza
End of October…
Something is wrong. Maybe not wrong...so much as off. My feelings for Holt are changing and I’m not sure that’s a good thing. I vowed my life to Sam. I promised him forever. And now I can’t help remembering sixteen years ago in a seedy off campus bar.
***
Fuck. I’m drunk. I’m so, so drunk. Stupid, Stupid Brett. I cannot believe that fucker plagiarized my research project and then dropped a dime on me! And I might get expelled for it, too. I can’t believe I slept with that asshole. It makes my skin crawl.
Which is why I’m drunk. After my meeting with the the University Ethics Committee, I came straight to my friendly, neighborhood dive bar and got hammered. So, now I’m drunk. And now I really have to pee.
I stand, throwing some cash down on the bar and look to the bartender. He’s cute, but I’m not looking for more dick to fuck up my life. He winks in my direction which earns a smile from me.
“I’ll be right back,” I say as I grab my purse and head down the back hall of the bar towards the restrooms.
I hear a ruckus entering the bar behind me, but don’t turn to look back. I push open the door to the restroom and head for a stall to break the seal. I hate doing it, but I’m probably drunk enough to go home now and still hate what I just did to my body in the morning.
I wash my hands in the sink and take stock of my face in the mirror. My curls are mussed but it’s not that bad yet. I take a hair tie out of my purse and pull it back into a long ponytail. I use my fingertips to wipe the smeared mascara from under my eyes and then swipe my favorite sparkly rose colored gloss over my lips.
I shrug to myself, this is as good as it’s going to get. I pack my purse back up and throw it over my shoulder. I push the bathroom door open not looking where I’m going and walk right into a brick wall.
Or at least it feels like it. My hands come up in front of me and are met but miles and miles of big bulky muscles. I’m not sure I want to look up at who I’ve trampled, but at the sound of his voice, I have no choice.
“Hello, darlin’,” he rasps deeply. “I’m sorry. I should watch where I’m going,” he smiles at me and his dark eyes crinkle at the sides.
“I-I’m sorry,” I choke out.
“Nothing to be sorry about when a beautiful woman lands in your arms…” And to prove his point those strong arms in question tighten around me. I gasp in delight.
“Oh…” Is all it appears I’m capable of getting out. The butterflies in my belly have turned into big ass drunken falcons flopping all around and I don’t want them to.
“Oh is right…” He trails off as he tips my head back with one of his large hands.
And before I know it, his mouth is on mine. Not rough or hard at first, but soft and gentle. A gentleness you would never expect from such a big, strong man like him. I feel myself melting into his body and sigh. My mystery man uses that opening to his advantage and licks in, his tongue meeting mine. And I want it. I want him like I have never wanted anyone before.
I grip his t-shirt in my fists and pull him closer to my body. I feel a sizeable hardness pressing into my belly and I let out a whimper like a weak kitten. He smiles against my mouth, but only for a moment before he is all over me and I’m all over him. In the hallway of a bar. Not my finest moment. But. I. Don’t. Care.
His hands coast up and down my body and I shiver in want. I want him. And I don’t even know his name. But there is a connection here. One I have never felt before and I know I never will again. He pulls back and speaks to me, but I’m still in a fog of lust and liquor so it takes me a moment to register that he’s speaking to me. I get the feeling he’s said it a couple of times.
“What?” I ask. And he just smiles a knowing smile.
“I said ‘are you okay?’” To that I just nod. He smiles again. “I’m going to let you go now.”
“Okay,” I say. So witty and charming, I am.
“Why don’t you go fix your lipstick and I’ll meet you at the bar…”
“Okay,” I say again. Jesus, if I say Okay one more time, I’ll slap my own damn self for being so stupid. What I don’t do is say anything else. I just turn and walk back into the ladies room.
And I look like I have been freshly fucked. Holy cats! My hair is coming out of my ponytail, I fix that as best as I can. My lips are swollen and puffy. A little bruised from his kiss. I slap on some more gloss, but it only draw more attention to it. My breasts are swollen and my nipples are hard. There’s not much I can do about that. I do adjust my t-shirt which was crooked and pulled up over my hip on the left side. My right nipple trying to escape out of the deep vee of my tee.
This is about as good as it’s going to get. So, I again, toss my purse over my shoulder and head out of the bathroom. There is no sign of my mystery man in the hallway and I feel a little disappointed.
I make my way back to the bar and my mystery man is standing there with a bunch of other muscular, overtly masculine guys. They are all smiling and laughing at something. Mystery man’s head is tossed back and I stop in my tracks when I hear his sexy, throaty laugh. His head pops up on his shoulders and he locks eyes on me. There is a definite twinkle in them and it’s just for me.
The guys he’s with turn and notice me too. Before I am halfway across the bar, a sandy haired man, equally as beautiful, locks eyes on me and changes my life forever.
“Holy fuck!” he bellows out to the bar. “That is the woman I’m going to marry!” And the way he is looking at me looks like he means every word. I look back at my mystery man and the twinkle in his eyes is gone. In fact, everything in his eyes is gone. They’re blank. They’re dead. And I know without a doubt that I missed my chance.
***
Maybe this is my chance. Maybe this is our chance. No more tears, no more heartache, no more dreams of burning houses. Lately, I have seen a look in Holt’s eyes that promises more. I have been holding him back. Holding onto my grief, but I’m ready to let go. We can have more, I know it.
Today, when I got up, I felt refreshed almost. I worked on projects, contacted all of my clients, and let them know I was back in action. It took me awhile, and I’ll still have moments. You can’t survive what I did and not have low moments, but I think I’m ready to live again. One foot at a time.
So, at six o’clock, I shutdown my laptop, and headed to the kitchen where I made myself a nice little stir fry for one. I wondered to myself if Holt likes stir fry, all the while knowing that I would like to cook for him. I imagine cooking for him in his kitchen. I imagine a life with him in it and I feel the blush on my chest and cheeks and the smile spread across my lips.
I wash all the dishes from my dinner and tidy the kitchen before I run up the stairs and take a quick shower. I’m mindful of my body and that Holt is about to see it, I shave my legs, then powder my body after towelling off and spritz a little perfume.
I put on my favorite bra and panty set, the one I splurged on because it was so soft and delicate and made me feel like a beautiful woman even after pregnancy and labor, not to mention age, did a number on my body. I blow dry my long, dark blonde hair with a round brush and squish in some fancy product that makes it fall around my shoulders in soft waves.
I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, so I put on a cute pair of skinny jeans and a teal tank top over a white one. I top it all off with a black cardigan and my favorite ugg boots with the bows up the back.
I quickly do my f
ace with a little pink sparkly blush and my favorite rose gloss that I have used for years. I know I am primping for him, but I don’t want him to know that I’m primping for him. It’s a fine line between trying for a man and overdoing it.
I take one more look in the mirror blowing out a deep breath and finding the last bit of self confidence and courage I have in the bottom of the barrel. I use that to straighten my shoulders and head for the door.
The drive to Holt’s house is a short one and the chicken shit in me wishes it was longer. But I know I am ready. So ready. I want Holt. I’m ready for him. I only hope that I deserve him.
As I walk up the front steps, it starts to rain. Typical Texas winter weather. I raise my hand to knock on the door but before I get a chance it opens. And there he is, sexy as all get out. There’s a look in his eyes that I have never seen before, but before I get a moment to analyze it, he hooks his index finger in the front of my tank top and roughly pulls me inside.
Holt slams the door behind me and locks it before shoving me back against it, his mouth crashing down on mine. Oh, okay. We’re doing this. I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk so that I could tell him about all of my life revelations and how important he is to me.
Thunder crashes outside and the hand that had hooked me by my shirt is making deft work of the buttons on my cardigan. Before I know it, it’s pulled from my shoulders and tossed to the floor. Holt kisses me again and again. His mouth invading mine. Holt dives his hands in under the hem of both shirts and roughly shoves them up and up and up until he has to break our kiss to rip them over my head.
“Holt...” I whisper.
He takes that moment to stare deep into my eyes and I wonder what he sees there. I watch him physically shake off those thoughts and rip his own t-shirt over his head. He isn’t wearing a belt and his feet are bare so I feel my mouth water when his hands move to rip open the top buttons of his jeans and I see just a glimpse of his cock as it strains against them and the dark hair that surrounds it.
His mouth comes crashing down on mine again and I’m lost in the waves of desire and lust and...love. Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with Holt. So, I let it all sweep over me. His hand shoves down the cup of my favorite bra that I’m so glad I wore just for him. He plumps my breast up and pinches my nipple. Hard. I cry out and his mouth drinks in my cries. Holt pushes down the other cup and treats my other breast to the same sweet harshness. I cry out again.
Holt skates his hands down my sides while he works my mouth with his own and undoes the button and the zipper at my jeans. He dives his hand down the front of my jeans and my panties and straight into my center. I gasp against his mouth at the harsh invasion but there is no denying what he finds there.
“Wet,” he rasps. “Does this turn you on?” he asks, but I just shake my head.
“You do,” I answer honestly.
He just stares into my eyes and I take that moment to undo the rest of the button on his jeans and push them to the floor before I sink down to my knees in front of him.
“Liz,” he gasps when I take him into my mouth. His hands fist in my hair and pull hard. But I don’t care. I wrap my hand around the base of him and work him as I swirl my mouth around him.
Holt groans again before pulling free of me and hauling me up by my under arms. Before I know it he’s throwing me over his shoulder and slapping my ass. Hard. As he steps free of his jeans I’m admiring the view of his ass as he hauls me to the bedroom.
He stops just inside the room, not at the bed, but in front of an antique dressing table topped with a mirror. Holt turns me to face the mirror so that I can watch as he rips my jeans and panties down my legs. He pulls my hips back just a bit and shoves two fingers inside me, deep. I gasp. It’s harsh, but I love it.
I watch him in the mirror as he pulls his fingers free and shoves them in his mouth, tasting, savoring. Me. What I don’t see is the pain in his eyes.
He lifts my right leg so my knee is on the top of the dresser, reaching, stretching me open to him. Without warning, Holt thrusts deep inside. With long, sure strokes he has me panting. But there’s a hardness here that there hasn’t been before.
His fingers find my center and he strokes me higher as he pumps in and out hard. Watching this erotic display in the beveled mirror has me spiralling out of control. I scream out as I start to fall forward and his other hand holds me up, his palm to my chest as I come harder than ever before, my eyes closed and my head thrusts back. The view seems to send Holt over the edge because he shouts out my name as he thrusts deep one more time, filling me as he finds completion.
He does not hesitate or linger. Holt immediately pulls free from my body and walks me over to the bed where he pushes me down onto the pillow tops face first before he heads off to the bathroom to clean up. I feel tears burn my eyes and his cum run down my legs. Humiliation burns deep as lightning lights up the windows.
I hear him enter the room behind me and he throws a wet washcloth onto the nightstand. Was that for me?
“Do you have any idea what the sight of you does to me?” he asks roughly. I just shake my head no, unable to answer. “ What he sight of your cum and mine mixed together?” he says as his fingers thrust deep inside me again and then smears his essence over my ass cheeks, one at a time.
“No?” I whisper.
“Well, then let me show you,” he trails off. I feel his weight straddling the backs of my knees. Holt’s hands skate up my ass and over my hips. And then he enters me. And it’s tight. So tight, I catch my breath.
I claw at the sheets as he slowly works my body. In and out. In and out. My legs are pinned and I can’t move. I can only take what he’s willing to give me. I wish I couldn’t take it. I wish I could refuse the way he plays my body like he owns it. Because he does. I wish he didn’t but tonight has shown me that he does. He doesn’t want anything more than this and I’m helpless to give in. To give it to him.
Like we both knew I would
My head falls back on my shoulders and I come with the sheets gripped tight in my fingers, calling out his name. I’m powerless to do anything else. He glides in one more time before he follows me over the edge.
Holt wraps himself around me, his front to my back and pulls the covers over us holding me tight. He never once noticed the tears that run a burning tracks down my face. When I feel his breathing finally evened out and I know that he’s asleep, I pull free from his body and find my clothes. I get dressed quickly, silently crying the whole time.
I stop and take a look at the giant man I have grown to love knowing that he doesn’t love me. And a hurt like never before burns through my chest. The worst part is knowing I’ll be back tomorrow night and there is not one thing I can do to stop it.
CHAPTER 23
Holt
November
Today sucks. Today does not only suck, it fucking sucks. I cannot seem to catch this God damned poacher and it is driving me absolutely bat shit crazy. I have exhausted all of my resources, but this fucker is wiley.
Then the DA called me to let me know all charges were dropped on the woman who killed Sam and the girls. Fuck. Just thinking about it kills me. But, true to her word, she had not one drop of alcohol or hint of drugs in her body during the accident. That doesn’t mean that suddenly all is forgiven with the people of Tall Pines. She is still persona non grata around here, but she is free to put her life back together. However, she can.
And lastly, Liz. She still comes to me each night. Begging me to take her, for just a few hours and make her feel alive. And then like Cinderella, she sneaks back to her sad life of the non-living, using Sam’s favorite whiskey to keep her memories at bay. I can smell it on her. I can taste it when I kiss her. I used to love a glass and now I can’t stomach the stuff. I clench my fists around my keys at the thought.
I let myself into my house and lock the door behind me. I drop my keys on the table by the front door and secure my side arm in the safe in the hall closet. I walk back to my
bedroom and quickly change out of my uniform and into a pair of jeans, leaving my white undershirt on.
I walk back down the hall to the kitchen, Diablo meowing at me the whole time. I scoop his fat, urry body up off the floor and hug him to my chest.
“Hey, big guy. How was your day?” I ask as I deposit him onto the kitchen counter.
“Meow.”
“Sounds like a good one,” I tell him as I scratch under his chin.
I dump a can of wet food into a bowl and leave him to it. I turn and open the refrigerator and pull out a beer. I pop the cap and toss it into the trash. I sigh deeply, feeling the stress of the day still heavily on my shoulders as I raise the bottle to my lips. I tip my head back and drink deeply. My body freezes, my spine going straight as I hear a knock at the door.
I set my bottle on the counter for fear I will crush it in my grip and grab onto the edge of the countertop as I hang my head. I close my eyes tight and hope to God I can find the strength to go on. Or end it with the only woman I have ever loved. Because she either can’t or won’t let me love her.
I take a deep breath and move back towards the front door knowing that I’m weak. I’m a fool. So in love with a woman who can’t love me. I’ll give her everything until I have nothing left to give.
“Holt,” she says softly as I open the door. “Can I come in?” she asks as she looks up at me through the longest lashes I have ever seen.
“Yeah,” I say softly as I push the door open so she can pass through.
The sounds of the door slamming shut and the lock being thrown to is like a starting shot at the races. Aliza jumps into my arms and I turn around with her in my arms to slam her back against the door.
“Holt,” she breathes. “I need you.” I slam my mouth down over hers and she cries out but it’s muffled because my mouth is still crushing hers.
“I know what you need,” I growl down her throat. Aliza is already winding her small hands up my belly, underneath my shirt pushing it up and up. I reach behind me and grab my shirt by the collar and detach our mouths only long enough to pull it over my head.
Whiskey Lullabye (Southern Heartbeats, Vol. 2) Page 9
