“Holt.” She framed his face with her hands, forcing him to look at her. “It’s fine. You don’t have to stop.”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” He slid off of her, taking his magical fingers with him. “Damn it, Lydia. You never should have let me inside. You never should have…I never…”
Frustration balled up in her stomach, making her sick. Sitting up, she smoothed her dress over her thighs with a trembling hand. “Get out. Now.”
He ran his hands down his face and took a minute to compose his words. “Look, this has nothing to do with you.”
“Oh, I know that.” She lifted her chin, staring him down. “But I’m pissed anyway. You can’t do this. Come in, kiss me, and then act as if I’m the worst mistake you’ve ever made.”
He watched her over his fingers. “Lydia…”
“No. Don’t.” Shoving his shoulders, she snapped, “Just go.”
Still, he hesitated. He took in every detail of her body, and for a second she thought he was going to come back to her. But he stood his ground. “You deserve more than I can give you. You deserve a prince, not a broken man like me. We will never, ever, live in a world where a guy like me can treat a girl like you the right way.”
Refusing to reply to that, she pressed her lips together.
“It’s true. You can ignore me all you want, but it’s true.” He stared down at her, his bare chest heaving. “I’ve seen things…done things…that no one should have done or seen. And now I’m falling apart. I’m no good for you. For anyone. Stop letting me in. Stop kissing me. Stop listening to anything I say. Just stop.”
And with that, he turned on his heel and left. She watched him go, her heart wrenching. Even though she couldn’t tell if she was more angry or upset, she knew one thing. He thought he didn’t deserve her. Thought he was somehow lacking something. He was wrong. She almost chased after him. Almost tried to get him to see himself the way she did, but she forced herself to stay still. Nothing she did, or said, would change the real issue at hand. She was his best friend’s little sister…
And he didn’t want her.
…
The next morning Lydia sat in her living room, her phone in front of her next to her open MacAir. She’d typed in two little words on the Google search bar, but she hadn’t hit return yet. She glared down at the computer, her heart accelerating at just the appearance of his name on her screen. Holt Cunningham.
She could hit the button. Read all about his past, so she could find a way to make him see she wasn’t scared of him. He seemed to think he was some kind of monster, but he was wrong. He was a damaged man, sure. But that didn’t make him a bad one.
Did it?
Just as she was about to hit search, a knock sounded at her door. She stared at it. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. Who would be here this early? Slowly, she walked to the door and plastered her face against it. Through the peephole, she saw…
Oh, crap.
Gasping, she smoothed her hands over her hair. It was probably a frizzy mess, but that wasn’t a huge surprise since she’d spent the night tossing and turning. Great. He looks like a model, while I look like a troll. Not much to do about it now.
Not if she wanted to let him in—and she did.
After taking a deep breath, she cracked the door open. “What are you doing here?”
He held out a bouquet of flowers. “I wanted to give you these. I saw them on my way to work, and the green ones looked like your eyes…” He broke off, his cheeks red. “I mean… I thought of you…”
They looked like my eyes? God, he’s trying to kill me.
Her heart did a flip-flop and then soared. Opening the door more, she took the blooms and brought them to her nose. They smelled lovely. “You bought me flowers?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I did.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I saw them, and I thought of you, so I bought them.”
She stared at him, and he stared right back.
Neither one of them spoke.
After a while, he shifted on his feet. His gray pants hugged his body way too freaking closely, and he wore a button up blue shirt. His glasses were perched on his nose, and his hair was styled to the side. He looked hot as hell, of course. He always did. “I’m sorry for last night. For what I did.”
“For touching me, or for stopping?” she asked, gripping the doorknob.
“Both.” He shifted on his feet. “I shouldn’t have done either one.”
She nodded. “Because I’m Steven’s little sister.”
“Yes.” He shrugged. “I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want you. I do. But I just got out of hell, and I’m trying to be an honorable man. Trying to do things right. To get my head on straight. Starting something with you now…it wouldn’t be right. So I can’t.”
She got that. Steven was still a mess, and he’d been home a lot longer than Holt. He hadn’t been injured as badly as him, either. If Holt didn’t think he was stable enough to be with her, even temporarily, then she wouldn’t push him.
Swallowing hard, she nodded once. “Okay. Apology accepted.”
He took his hands out and rubbed his jaw. “I like you, Lydia. I know we met and jumped right into bed, and then there was last night…”
“Yeah, there was last night.” She tightened her fingers on the stems, knowing what was coming next. She might as well beat him to the punch, and say it first. “You want to forget that ever happened, and be friends? Platonic friends.”
He nodded. “Yes, exactly. Well, not forget, necessarily. But not do it again.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Her heart twisted. “It was just a one-night stand. No reason to dwell on it. Right?”
Something flashed across his face for an instant, but then it was gone. “Right. We can’t do it again, but that doesn’t mean I regret you, or what we did. Or that I don’t want to see you again. I’ve never really been friends with girls, but I want to be yours.”
“I see.” She gave him a tight smile. “All right, then.”
“Good.” He stared at her some more before clearing his throat. “The wounds on my chest? They came from war. I was injured in battle, right before I came home.”
She blinked at him. She’d asked him about them the night they’d first met, and he’d blown her off. She knew telling her now was a way of showing her he was serious. That he wanted them to share. That he actually wanted to be friends. “I’m so sorry for that.”
He nodded. “We’re good?”
“We’re good,” she said softly.
He glanced over his shoulder, tugging on the hair at the back of his head. “All right. I better go to work, then.”
“Yeah, or you’ll be late.” She forced a smile and stepped back into her apartment, the flowers still in her hands. “Thanks for stopping by, and for the flowers.”
“Anytime.”
He stared at her for another second, his silence saying so much and yet not enough, then turned and left. She watched him go, her heart pumping loudly.
He’d brought her flowers. So they could be friends.
Unfortunately for him, that only made her want him more.
Sighing, she closed her door and walked into her apartment, the flowers pressed to her nose as she inhaled their scent. Another knock sounded, and she started for the door. Without looking through the peephole, she set the bouquet down and opened the door. “Did you forget—?”
She broke off, because it wasn’t Holt. It was Sam, her cheating ex. “Hey, babe.”
“Uh…hi.” She tightened her grip on the doorknob. “What are you doing here?”
“I forgot some things and wanted to grab them.”
“Okay…” She stepped back and let him inside. “What did you forget?”
“You.”
She blinked. “What do—?”
“I’m sorry. I never should have slept with Joan.”
“Yeah, well, you did.”
She stepped aside, motioning out to the hallway. “Now get out before I—”
“I miss you, babe.”
He wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her into his arms. She barely had time to register what was happening before his mouth was on hers. Unlike last night, when Holt had done the same thing, her reaction was nonexistent—unless you counted repulsion. Slipping her hands in between them, she shoved him back, but he didn’t budge. Twisting, she managed to free her mouth from his. “Sam, stop it.”
“Why?” He backed her against the wall, not letting go. He crushed her between the wall and his chest, and instead of fearing him, she wanted to scratch his eyes out. “I saw that asshole leave your building just now. And then I figured out why we didn’t work. I wasn’t enough of a jerk for you. I didn’t press you for sex, or anything.”
She shoved at his shoulders again. “Neither did he, dumbass. I just gave it to him willingly.”
“Well, now you can give it to me, too,” he said angrily.
Her stomach turned. “Over my dead body.”
“So melodramatic.” He laughed cruelly. “Then again, you always were. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before. But before I go, let me show you how a real man—”
One second he was there. The next, he was gone. She blinked and then tugged her shirt down. It had ridden up in her struggle. But who had—?
Holt slammed Sam against the door, his face red. Sam held his hands up, looking like the scared little boy he was. “Look, man, I wasn’t—”
“Yes, you were, man,” Holt growled, his grip on Sam’s throat flexing. “Give me one fucking reason not to kill you right here, right now.”
Sam paled even more. “Dude, I-I-I didn’t—”
“Not good enough.”
“You can’t kill me over a kiss,” Sam cried. “It was just a kiss!”
“Again, not enough.” Holt twisted his mouth. “I’ve killed for a hell of a lot less. Believe me, I won’t give a damn when I do it to you.”
Holy crap. He hauled his fist back, seeming fully intent on punching Sam in the face. He’d been a jerk, yes, but she wasn’t about to watch Holt beat the life out of him for it, thank you very much. “Holt.”
One word. One simple word.
But it seemed to stop him in his tracks.
“Lydia,” he replied, his fingers flexing.
“Don’t hit him.” She walked up, heart racing, and rested a hand on his back. “He’s not worth it. Trust me on this.”
His fingers flexed. “You’re right. He’s not. But you are.”
“Holt…” She wasn’t sure what to say to that. He said so many sweet things, but then he pushed her away every time she got too close. “Let him go.”
Holt stared at him, looking deadly and dangerous. “No.”
“Look, man, I’m sorry.” Sam licked his lips, not daring to so much as blink. “I’m sorry.”
“Say it to her, not me.”
Sam glanced at Lydia for all of two seconds before slamming his attention back to Holt. She didn’t blame him. Holt pissed off was a sight to behold. “Sorry, Lydia.”
Lydia crossed her arms. “Just go—”
“Now tell her it won’t happen again, and that you’ll never come near her.” Holt pressed on his throat and grinned. “Because if you do, I’ll kill you. I swear I won’t let her stop me next time.”
Sam nodded frantically. “I’ll stay away.”
“Good.” Holt shoved him one last time, then stepped back. “Now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.”
Sam ran. Legit ran.
She didn’t blame him one little bit.
As soon as he was gone, Holt slammed the door shut behind him and locked it. He ran his hand through his hair, his back still to Lydia, and let out a long breath. When he turned, the murderous glow was gone. But he still looked ready to pounce.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’m f-fine.”
“I saw him come in as I left, but it took me a second to recognize him. Once I did, I came back up to make sure you were okay.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t faster.”
She licked her lips. “But… Thank you.”
“Why did you—?” He broke off, squaring his jaw. Lydia gave him time to think. “Why did you let him in?”
“He said he needed to pick up some stuff here. I hadn’t seen anything of his, but I figured maybe I’d missed it.” She shrugged, swallowing hard. “So I let him in.”
“Lydia, don’t let guys like him in.” He caught her chin, his touch feather light. “As a matter of fact, you shouldn’t let guys like me in, either. I’m starting to think this whole nun idea of Steven’s is a good one.”
She tried to laugh at his joke—at least, she thought it was a joke—but she choked on it, and all that came out was a weird sobbing sound. She covered her mouth and wanted to run for her room, crawl into bed, and never come out again. It wasn’t that she was scared or anything. There was no doubt in her mind that she would have stopped Sam before she’d let him actually hurt her. She just felt…
Icky. Dirty.
As if she needed a shower.
Holt paled, took a step toward her, but stopped. “Lydia.”
“I’m fine.” She held her hand up, the other still covering her mouth. “Really.”
He took another step, cursed under his breath, then closed the distance between them. Within seconds, he had her in his arms and was walking toward the couch. As he sat down with her and kissed her temple, he gently ran his fingers through her hair. “Shh, it’s okay. Don’t be scared.”
“I-I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. I should have fucking killed him,” he growled. “Next time, let me.”
“No. And like I said, I’m not scared.” She lifted her hand to touch his face. At the last second, she remembered she wasn’t supposed to be intimate with him, so she let her hand fall to her lap…empty. “I’m pissed off.”
His lips twitched. “I am, too.”
“He’s such a douchebag. To do that. To kiss me like that…” She shuddered and fought the urge to swipe her hand across her mouth again. “What a…a…”
“Fucking prick,” Holt supplied. “Loser. Asshole. Scum of the fucking earth.”
“Yes, all of those,” she said, nodding. “And more that I can’t think of right now because I’m all worked up.”
He cupped her cheek, his touch tender. Apparently the rules didn’t stop him from touching her all he wanted. “We can write them all down so you remember for next time.”
“There better not be a next time. I never want to see him again.”
“You won’t.” His jaw flexed. “Not if I have anything to say about that.”
Her stomach twisted hard to the left, and it was then that she realized she was cradled in his lap, and he was holding her close. Close enough that she could feel his erection pressing against her butt, and smell the manly scent of his cologne. Close enough that they both froze, breaths held, as they became aware of one another.
It made her want to forget all about his words. Forget all about being friends. She had enough friends, damn it. She desired him. But he didn’t want her. And she had to respect that. Had to respect him. So, she cleared her throat and wiggled free. As she slipped off his lap, he let out a small groan. She hadn’t meant to rub her butt up against his erection…but she totally had.
“Jesus, Lydia.”
Her cheeks heated. “Sorry. So sorry. Uh, thanks for the rescue, by the way. You’re a good friend to have around.”
“Any time, Lydia.” He stood up awkwardly, tugging on his khakis. “Any fucking time.”
Leaning down, he cupped the back of her head and kissed her temple. When he pulled back, his lips hovered over hers. So close, and yet so freaking far. “I have to go to work now, but don’t open the door for any strange men. Especially me.”
She swallowed hard. “I’ll always open the door for you. If you don’t want me to let you in, then
don’t knock.”
His fingers tightened on her hair. “I wish it was that easy. I really fucking do.”
With that, he let go of her and left without another word. The second the door closed behind him, she collapsed against the couch, her fingers pressed to her lips.
What did that even mean?
Chapter Nine
On Monday morning, Holt glanced at the clock for what had to be the millionth fucking time. All day long, Lydia had been on his mind. Her smell. Her laugh. The way she’d clung to him, all fiery and pissed off at her douchebag of an ex. But mostly, he’d been thinking about how close he’d been to fucking her the other night, and how he never should have stopped.
Sure, she deserved better. But in his opinion, most women deserved better than the men they were with. It was always that way, because men were dicks by nature. Maybe it went against his DNA to admit that, but what the fuck ever. It was true. So, yeah, he was a dick.
But so was every other guy out there.
If she had to be with one of them—if she refused to be sensible and join a convent—why couldn’t it be him?
A knock sounded on the door, and he glanced up gratefully. Today had to be the longest day in the history of all mankind, so he’d welcome the distraction. Any distraction. “Come in,” he called out.
Cooper Shillings popped his head in, scanned the room, and walked inside. “Hey, man.”
“Hello.” Holt sat up straight and tugged on his shirt. He’d been slouching, damn it. His boss rarely came into his office, so he hadn’t expected him to do so today. “How can I help you?”
“Have you talked to Gordon lately?”
Holt blinked. “Yeah, Friday. Why?”
“I want to do something for him, because of that whole princess thing.” Cooper waved a hand, his green eyes brighter than normal, and sat in front of Holt’s desk. “Apparently, when I fell in love with Kayla, I became a fucking softie and want everyone else to be happy, too.”
Holt choked on a laugh. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”
Taking What's His (Entangled Brazen) Page 7
