by Russo, Jessa
This California king was one of them, as well as the remote controlled fireplace at the foot of the bed, and for these things I was grateful. At least we’d rest well while we were here—the soft snoring coming from Holland was proof of that.
I crossed my arms behind my head and stared at the thin white canopy above us until my eyes were too heavy to keep open any longer. Lulled by the peaceful sound of her snoozing next to me, I drifted off to sleep.
I awoke to Holland’s arm slinking around my waist. I stilled, suddenly very alert and completely frozen in place. I didn’t know what to do; she must have readjusted in her sleep and if I woke her…well, if I woke her, she’d have been humiliated because she’d cuddled with me by accident.
Yeah, waking her up now would have been rude. I’ll leave her there…curled up beside me, one arm holding my waist, I’d leave her there. A gentlemanly decision, I told myself.
I stared up at the ceiling, wide eyed and—
Her hand twitched, then slid its way up my torso. I barely dared to breathe. Her fingertips grazed my chest, purposefully—she was awake and moving with intention or sleeping through a dream I wished I starred in.
And still, I lay there…unable to move or think or breathe.
She rested her hand in the crook of my shoulder, then nuzzled her face into my neck on the other side.
When her lips found my throat, kissing me gently with an open mouth, I squeezed my eyes shut. She wasn’t the one sleeping. I was. This obviously wasn’t real. Apparently I did get to star in a dream tonight. My own. My breath returned to somewhat normal once I realized that I could breathe without fear of waking this dream version of Holland.
Then she climbed on top of me, and all rational thought jumped out the window with my calm breathing. Her hair dangled in my face, and the scent of her dared me to open my eyes and look up at her. But there was no way the timid girl I’d seen cowering away from me earlier could possibly be climbing on top of me now, and if I opened my eyes, I risked shattering the dream. She’d been so afraid of me, of herself, there was no way she’d have acted like this if we were awake.
Her lips brushed slowly against mine, then she ran her tongue across my lower lip before nipping at it gently with her teeth.
“Mmm.”
“Did you just growl at me?”
I may have growled. Might have moaned. I didn’t know, couldn’t think past the fact that her lips hovered mere centimeters away from mine.
You’re dreaming, idiot. Just dreaming.
“Are you going to open your eyes?”
I squeezed them tighter.
Just a dream. A damn good one, yes, but still a dream. Had to be.
“Fine,” she said, her voice more playful than I’d heard it since we met. “Have it your way.”
I didn’t have time to comment about the fact she was a figment of the best dream I’d ever had before her lips pressed to mine. I reached up reflexively and pulled her down tightly to my chest. Dream or not, it felt too good to have her in my arms again to ever let her go.
I opened my mouth to hers, letting our tongues fall into rhythm together.
She felt so real, so solid…I skimmed my hands down her back, halting when my fingertips connected with bare skin and lace instead of the jeans she’d gone to sleep in. I paused for a moment, unsure what to do with myself, when all I wanted to do was grip her tighter.
She must have been suffocating underneath all the down comforters and with the fireplace raging, so she’d removed her jeans at some point in the night.
Idiot. My hands rested on the near-naked curve of Holland’s ass, and all I could think was to question why she wasn’t wearing pants.
She drew back, and I opened my eyes to see her biting her lip. It was half-coy, half-timid, and one-hundred percent sexy. She slid down to the side of me, one leg still wrapped around my midsection, and I ran a hand down her smooth thigh. I wrapped my fingers behind her knee and turned toward her. I pulled her close and lined my body up to match the length of hers, pressing one leg up toward her center. She tightened her grip with the leg draping over me, and reached both hands up, settling them at the base of my neck.
I could have kissed her for hours. Hell, I could have done much more with her, but something nagged at the back of my mind. Something that wouldn’t let me fully lose myself with this beautiful, broken girl.
She pressed her fingers into my neck, gripping me closer, and pushed her chest up against mine. With one hand, she felt her way down the length of my torso and up beneath my shirt. As her fingertips grazed the bare skin of my side, chills broke out across my body and I inhaled a quick breath. She was trying to undo me.
And I was going to let her.
That digitally created image of her flashed into the forefront of my mind, blocking any thoughts of this Holland and the way her lips currently danced along the length of my throat, replacing it with the threat of what she’d look like forever trapped in statue form. Like a splash of arctic water, the visualization iced up any warmth I’d gained from her very real body pressed against mine.
I pushed the image away—I’d deal with it later—but behind my eyelids, all I could see was that blasted threat. I’d forgotten all about its discovery after the episode with Holland downstairs, her enraged meltdown being all either one of us could think of, but I had to get to the bottom of who created the picture.
No one could have come into this cabin while I was gone, I would swear to it. The house had locks and an alarm system…and there was just no way.
I sat up, my mind focusing on that photograph downstairs in my office, instead of the half-naked girl in my bed, but Holland sat up with me, dragging my shirt up and over my head. She sat back to look at my chest, then ran her hands over my skin, eventually settling at the base of my head. As I stared into her eyes, the light from the fireplace danced on her skin, casting an amber glow; I could almost forget about the grayness covering her. She was so beautiful.
She climbed into my lap, straddling me, and looked up into my eyes.
I ran a hand over her cheek, stopping to brush my thumb across her lips, then drew her close and kissed her again.
Fuck the photograph. I wasn’t going to miss even a second of getting to hold this beautiful girl in my arms.
After we kissed a little longer, Holland’s tongue and lips doing miraculous things to my insides, she gently pushed me back, a coy smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
What’s this?
She licked her lips, then raised an eyebrow at me, and with a quick movement, she pulled her sweater up over her head. I slowly soaked her in, memorizing every inch, then moved back until my bare shoulders rested against the knotted wood of the headboard. She followed, and my hands found her lace-covered bottom, pulling her on top of me once more. With her bare chest against mine, I kissed her without holding back. She leaned into me, pulling me close to her and never letting our lips break contact. I rested my hands on either side of the groove above her hips, gripping the soft skin there gently, and keeping her in place on my lap. Her nails dug into my back as she kissed me, her hunger mimicking my own, making it hard for me to hold back.
I didn’t want to hold back. But should I?
Rational thought was losing its luster.
She was brazen and confident—the girl I’d always imagined her to be. I was anxious with anticipation, and hungry for more of her. Even nearly naked, our skin on skin contact wasn’t enough. Holland had found her way inside me in such a short time—I was blown away by how much I wanted her.
Holland broke the kiss, then leaned back to look at me, her eyebrows drawn together over heavily-lidded eyes.
My breath came out in shallow huffs. I ached in all the places she no longer touched.
“How can you kiss me?”
What? I shook my head, dazed from the power with which she kissed me, trying to bring my thoughts into focus. I splayed my fingers out over the skin of her back, pulling her closer to me once more. I nee
ded her mouth on mine again.
“No, Mick. Look at me,” she said, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact. “How can you kiss me? Kiss…someone who looks like this? Is it because you were trained to?”
Ouch. Had this been a test? Had she been so willing these last few minutes, so in control…because she was testing me? Disappointment bubbled up inside me, burning my chest, the negative voice that told me she didn’t actually want me, just wanted to see how I’d respond to her. I couldn’t stop the barrage of self-doubt that flooded my mind, but I could keep Holland from seeing it and confusing it with something else.
I brought my hand to her face and ran my fingers over the cracks that were forming near her eyes. The sight of them scared me, but not because I was scared of her.
They scared me because I was scared of losing her. Scared of failing the one thing I’d been put on this earth to do.
Save her.
A tear slipped from her eye and I caught it with my thumb before it travelled further.
What could I say that would put her mind at ease?
Challenge accepted.
Instead of answering her, I pulled her to me and kissed her again. Had this been a test, it was a test I’d willingly participate in, time and time again. As my lips crushed into hers, I cradled her face with both hands, then slid one hand behind her head to cup her neck, my fingers splayed in her hair, holding her to my mouth as I returned my other hand to her lower back.
With a quick movement and possibly another deep growl, I flipped us over and lay her down, lowering myself on top of her.
Holland wrapped her arms around me, pulling me to her so firmly that I feared I’d crush her. Wrapping her legs around me, she held on tight. With our bodies so close, and my hips pressing into hers, pinned within the cocoon of her perfect frame, I was ready to lose myself in her, completely, willingly, and without regret or restraint.
I hoped her fears were slipping away as quickly as my self-control.
The latter was nearly non-existent.
Though my body screamed to go further with this irresistible enigma of a girl, I wanted only to show her that I’d kiss her forever and never tire, never fear her, never be blinded by her skin, regardless of the color.
She was perfect. Beautiful and defiant, scared and strong. I’d been made for her and her for me; a destiny she couldn’t trust yet and didn’t want to believe. A destiny I’d bet my life on. Will bet my life on. The word itself carried a humorous connotation. Destiny. I couldn’t disagree with that. But fate had a plan for us.
Holland’s skin could turn purple with bright green spots and I’d still want to be right here, pressed against her body, with her perfect lips on mine—tangled up in Holland Briggs, mind, body and soul.
Holland
I awoke with the feeling of someone watching me while I slept. I opened my eyes to sunlight, the bright rays shining through sheer curtains. Sunshine. I hadn’t seen the sun in weeks, and I’d only been in the cabin since yesterday, but I was already tired of the snow. Gray skies were not for me, especially now that I was gray enough for all of us.
“She wakes.” An unfamiliar voice, deep, rough…
I flipped over and sat up, scooting so my back was against the headboard, and pulling the blankets up around me—all in one quick movement. I was thankful I’d at least put my sweater on again last night.
“Who are you? Where’s Mick?”
The man sitting in my room had Mick’s build and dark hair, but his eyes were a deep brown, and didn’t hold any of the sparks of life that I loved about Mick’s green eyes. This guy’s hair was not shaved off like Mick’s but more of a rugged cropped cut, a bit longer on top. He had that professionally tousled look going on, as if he paid someone a few hundred dollars to run their fingers through his hair, resulting in fashionably messy. His smile was predatory at best, and as he watched me, goose bumps popped up all over my body.
Good looking, sure, but also creepy as hell.
“Yes, where is Mick? I was wondering that myself just a few moments ago. It’s a shame he’d leave you sleeping here so unprotected like this.” He turned his attention to the window, away from me, as if thinking out loud.
The man had an accent I couldn’t quite place. But then, I’ve never been very good with that. I guessed England, but I had a terrible habit of mixing up British and Australian. I’d offended a few people in my lifetime with that, but it wasn’t purposeful—just something wrong with my ears, I guessed.
I didn’t respond, but instead repeated my still-unanswered question.
“Who are you?”
“Well, in short, I’m Donovan Gregory. But the long part of it? My favorite part? I’m the guy who’s going to break the spell, love.”
What? How did he know about the spell? How did he—?
Then I remembered I was gray and realized someone other than Mick and I now knew my secret. I tried to pull the blanket up even higher, but couldn’t fully cover myself without taking my gaze off the intruder. And looking completely ridiculous hiding beneath a blanket fort.
“Wait,” I continued. “What did you just say?”
“That’s right. I know all about you. Though, by the way you rested so peacefully, I thought for a second I was in the wrong fairytale. You’re a much more fitting Sleeping Beauty than Beauty and the Beast. Even with the…discoloration of your skin.”
I cringed at his word choice, but if he noticed, he didn’t seem to care. Discoloration.
He continued, “But that’s obviously how I knew I was in fact in the right place. And judging by the cracks forming near your eyes, I’d say not only am I in the right place, but I’m just in time.”
“How do you know about all of this? Where’s Mick?”
“Ah, yes, Mick. Let’s call my little brother up here, shall we?”
“Brother?”
The stranger—Donovan—walked to the door and opened it, calling down the hall for Mick.
“Hey, little brother! Come up and have a chat with me!”
He turned back around with a wide, wicked grin on his face, and then stepped away from the door.
“What the fuck? Holland!” Mick’s voice was distant, but his fear rang loud and clear through the cabin. His feet thumped up the stairs, and my heart joined their frantic rhythm, his panic confirming the fact that this man was unwelcomed here.
Mick ran into the room, straight to my side. He gave me a quick once-over with his eyes and, confirming I was unharmed, spun around to face Donovan, positioning himself at the end of the massive bed, protectively between the two of us.
“You’ve got about two seconds to get the fuck out of here before I remove you.”
Donovan laughed and shook his head from side to side. “Well, aren’t you the little scrapper, mate? I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so disappointed. I mean really, is that any way to treat family?” Donovan tsk-tsked, then crossed his arms over his chest.
Mick stepped toward him, his fists clenched at his sides. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me. Family. I’d expect a better welcome for your long lost big brother.”
Observing the two of them as they stared each other down, I saw the resemblance. The dark hair—though Donovan’s was long and Mick’s was almost completely shaved off—was the exact same shade of chestnut. The way Mick’s jaw was so square and defined—Donovan’s was structured the same. His face even mimicked Mick’s now, his chin jutting out, his lips pulled into a tight line…Donovan’s defensive stance was the spitting image of Mick.
“Holy hell.”
I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud until both guys turned their hardened stares to me. Donovan’s dark brown eyes and Mick’s light green eyes watched me as I scrutinized the two of them side by side.
“You didn’t know?” I asked Mick, my voice a mere whisper.
A curt shake of his head was the only answer he gave me before turning back to his brother.
“Explain. Or my original offer to re
move you from my home still stands.”
“Why don’t we go downstairs so our sleeping beauty can get dressed? I’d like some coffee, and I’d like to give you the chance to redeem yourself for the poor hospitality you’ve offered thus far.”
“Uh-uh. No way. I’m coming with you guys. I want to hear this.” I jumped out of bed, forgetting for a moment I wore next-to-nothing. I met Mick’s green eyes and blushed as I remembered why I was nearly naked. Heat snaked its way over my body as Mick held my gaze, until he broke it by turning away to chastise Donovan.
“Do you mind?” He practically growled the words, reminding me of the sexy way he’d growled when I bit his lip last night. Something deep down inside me stirred at the sound. It felt almost primal, like it wasn’t my reaction to the reminder of last night, but…more like the monster inside me was reacting to the tension in the room. My muscles tensed and constricted, my fingers clenching.
I swallowed, took a deep breath, and headed for the bathroom, grabbing my discarded jeans from the floor, and ignoring the surging, angry feelings inside me. Donovan getting a quick showing of my nearly bare ass was going to be the least of my worries if I flipped out and broke something.
“Give me two minutes.”
“We won’t start without you, love.”
“Do not refer to her like that again. My patience only goes so far.”
Donovan laughed. “I meant no harm by it, brother.”
Avoiding the mirror, I dressed and brushed my teeth as quickly as I could. I was pleasantly surprised when I exited the bathroom, that Mick and Donovan hadn’t killed each other in the two minutes I’d been out of sight. They still stood the same way they had when I left the room. Mick’s shoulders were tense, and his fists were clenched as tightly as his jaw appeared to be, while Donovan leaned back against the wall, one elbow on the mantle over the old fireplace. His relaxed demeanor made him appear as if he didn’t have a care in the world, and his smirk showed that he found Mick’s intimidating stance amusing.
