Educating Holden (Wishing Well, Texas Book 11)

by Melanie Shawn

  “You could help. You weigh almost as much as me.”

  The flaps of his jowls puffed out as he sighed. No, he was definitely not impressed with my behavior.

  I finally got it to shut and I leaned against my victory door. I was panting and had probably expended more energy than it would’ve taken just to clean the damn thing out. But mentally I was not in the mood.

  I was…amped. I was fired up. Holden’s “apology” had only left me with more questions.

  They all circled my head as I stomped upstairs to take a bath. I’d soak in a bath and try to calm down. I turned the water on and let it run until I felt like it was the right temperature. I lit some candles around the room, trying to create a calm atmosphere.

  I’d already had two drinks, which would normally be my limit, but I decided that I wanted something to take the edge off. I went downstairs into the kitchen and pulled out a half-drank bottle of pinot from the fridge. Jackpot!

  After pouring the contents into a tumbler wine glass I went right back up the stairs and got naked. I took a significant swig of the wine as Channing pushed his nose in the door that was cracked open, circled three times on the mat that sat in the center of the room, and curled up in a ball.

  As I sat on the edge of the bathtub waiting for the water to rise, I imitated Holden’s deep voice as I said, “You’re way to perfect in an infinite amount of ways?” I looked over at Channing. “How was that a reason not to kiss me?”

  His eyes were already closed, and a faint snore floated through the air. Apparently, my crisis was boring him.

  Once the tub was filled to the spill line, I shut the water off and slid into the bath. I rested my head back against a rolled-up towel and did my best to clear my mind. I tried to think about anything other than Holden. But the more I tried not to think about him, the more I did.

  Why had he stayed at the bar after my brother and Travis had gone home?

  Was that on the orders of Bentley?

  Why had he asked me to dance?

  Why did he have so many opinions about my date?

  And why did he keep giving me such personal compliments and then leaving?

  My hands floated on the surface of the water, as I moved my fingers, I watched the ripples it created. That was what I’d felt Holden had done to my soul. His words had caused ripples in my very being.

  I’d never really put that much stock in flattery about my appearance. Someone telling me that I had a beautiful smile, pretty eyes, or gorgeous hair had never felt personal to me. Maybe it was because I was a twin; I’d been born with a carbon copy. Or maybe it was because I’d grown up witnessing my oldest brother Brady compliment anything with a pulse just to get what he wanted. I remember one night I’d overheard him tell three different girls that their eyes sparkled brighter than the stars in the sky. And all three girls had fallen for it.

  Whatever the reason, any comments about my appearance, no matter how positive, had always felt impersonal to me. But Holden telling me that I was magic…and way too perfect in an infinite amount of ways…that felt very, very personal. It was a little unnerving and a lot frustrating.

  I couldn’t say for sure how much time I’d spent in the bath trying to relax and clear my mind, but when the water lost its heat and became room temperature, I decided to get out. After quickly drying off and throwing my flannel PJs, shorts and T-shirt back on, I decided that there was no way I was going to be able to sleep tonight without some answers.

  I grabbed my slippers out of the closet and started downstairs. I was so preoccupied that I didn’t even notice that Channing had woken up and began following me. I turned back to him. “I’ve gotta go bye, bye. You go to bed.” I kissed him on his head.

  He stared up at me with a confused expression, but I knew as soon as I left he’d go right back to sleep.

  My entire body was shaking as I knocked on Holden’s door. I wasn’t sure if it was from adrenaline or arousal or both. Because they were equally rushing through me like whitewater rapids.

  It wasn’t a polite knock. My fists were pounding on the oak. He was not going to ignore me. Not tonight.

  He flung the door open, his thick brown hair was tousled as if he’d been tossing and turning in bed. That was the first thing I noticed. The second was that he was wearing sweats and no shirt and if I had to guess, nothing else. I wasn’t sure if there was anything, a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g sexier than a man—especially the man standing in front of me—wearing sweats and nothing else.

  Saliva flooded my mouth and all of the righteous indignation that had propelled me to show up on Holden’s doorstep evaporated into thin air. Speaking of thin air, had the air gotten thinner? Because I was finding it difficult to breathe. I was inhaling and exhaling in short pants. Had Holden’s half-naked body sucked the oxygen out of the atmosphere? I remembered learning that fire can actually suck oxygen out of a room. Maybe Holden was so hot he had the same effect…

  “Are you okay?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

  The innocent gesture caused not-so-innocent sensations to tingle between my legs. My eyes raked over his muscled chest, the bulge of his triceps, and the ripples of his abs. In the back of my mind, I knew that he’d asked me a question but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what it was.

  There would be no way that I could have the conversation I needed to have with him looking so distractingly hot. And I also couldn’t have it standing out on the porch.

  I didn’t wait for an invitation. I just pushed my way inside. “Can you put on a shirt?”

  “Did you want to come in?” he asked sarcastically after I was already inside.

  He closed the door and walked into the downstairs hallway toward the powder and laundry room. When he did, I saw a large scar running down his spine. My heart clenched at the sight. I knew that he’d had spinal surgery, but seeing the evidence of what he’d been through was a totally different ballgame.

  When he returned, he was pulling a shirt over his head. “What’s wrong?”

  “You,” I answered bluntly.

  “Me?” he repeated, as he lowered his arms down by his sides.

  “Yes. You.”

  “What’s wrong with me?”

  I tilted my head to the side and narrowed my eyes. “Do you want a list?”

  He grinned and I wasn’t sure which was more distracting, the Adonis-like naked torso I now knew was under his shirt or sexy half-grin. Both were entirely too disarming and much too inviting. “Sure.”

  It really pissed me off that I couldn’t think of a damn thing wrong with him. This entire thing was getting off track thanks to the bare chest I’d been exposed to and sexy grin. I really wish I had an immunity to his charms. That would make this whole thing a lot easier.

  I took a breath and tried to get my thoughts together. “You push people away that care about you. You think you can handle everything on your own. You don’t tell people how you feel or if you do, it doesn’t make any sense…” I could feel myself rambling, so I took another breath. I wanted to gather my thoughts to confront him over the things that were truly bothering me.

  “Is that it?” He crossed his arms, his feet planted shoulder-width apart and stared at me with a look that I assumed might intimidate some people. But I wasn’t some people.

  “No.” I took a step toward him. “You can’t just say things like someone is magic or way too perfect in infinite ways and then walk away.”

  His lips twitched. I wasn’t sure if he was irritated or amused by me. I didn’t really care which, I wanted some answers and I planned on getting them.

  “I can’t?” he asked all too innocently for my liking.

  “No. What did you mean when you said those things?”

  A wrinkle appeared on his forehead. “I think it was pretty self-explanatory.”

  I placed my hand on my chest and I could feel my heart pounding beneath it. My entire body was tingling, either from being so close to him or not having enough oxygen because of his h
otness. “You think I’m perfect?”

  His only response was a barely perceptible nod.

  I let out a forced laugh. “I’m not perfect. I’m not even close to perfect.”

  “To me, you are.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” I pointed accusatorily at him. “You can’t keep saying things like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you don’t mean it.”

  “I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he stated with conviction.

  “If I’m so ‘perfect’…”—I made air quotes—“…then why did you stop talking to me in middle school? Why have you barely said two words to me all these years? Why do you pretend you’re not home when I knock on your door? And why did you act like you didn’t even know me when I messaged you on Insta?”

  “You messaged me?”

  I couldn’t tell if he was playing dumb and messing with me or if he really didn’t know I had. “Yes. Several times.” Probably a half dozen or so over the years.

  “My manager set up that account and has people run it. I’ve never even logged in on my own. I don’t check my DMs.”

  That actually made me feel oddly better, but it still didn’t answer any of my other questions.

  “Okay, fine. What about the rest?”

  He didn’t say anything for a minute, and then his shoulders dropped and he sighed. “I’m tired.”

  His arm reached out for the door, but I swatted his hand down. “No. I’m not leaving. You are going to talk to me.”

  He winced as his arm dropped back down to his side.

  “I’m so sorry,” I quickly apologized and reached out and touched him. My hand landed on his chest. Through the cotton barrier of his T-shirt, I could feel heat radiating off of him and his heart beating wildly beneath my palm.

  “Are you okay?” My question came out much breathier than my apology had.

  Our eyes met and I knew, at that moment, something was going to happen between us tonight. I didn’t know what it would mean, or if it would change our relationship, but I knew that there was no way I was leaving without knowing what his lips felt like against mine.

  Chapter 17

  Holden

  “Broken crayons still color.”

  ~ Maggie Calhoun

  As I stared down into Olivia’s eyes, all I could think was that it was too much.

  I took a step back and her hand fell. “I’m fine.”

  It wasn’t just her physical touch, it was her tenderness, her care, that was too much. It made me feel too much. She’d always done that to me—or undone me, I should say. It was something that drew me to her and also something that made me powerless to resist her.

  “Holden.” She took another step toward me, and I took another step back. “How much pain are you in?”

  “Right now?” My voice was raspy with need.

  “Yes.”

  “None.” It was the truth. Her closeness was more of a pain killer than any pills the doctors had given me.

  She stood less than a foot in front of me and my back was against the wall. The energy between us crackled with intensity. The look in her eyes was different than I’d ever seen before. There was a light in them, a flame of determination. Something in our dynamic had shifted. If I didn’t say something…if I didn’t ask her to leave, a line would be crossed. A line that I knew I couldn’t come back from.

  “Olivia, I think—”

  “I really want to kiss you,” she interrupted.

  “What?” My response was a knee-jerk reaction. I knew exactly what she’d said but I’d still asked the question as my eyes dropped to her mouth.

  She licked her lips and my dick jumped behind my sweats. “I really want to kiss you.”

  I closed my eyes as I fisted my hands at my sides. I was doing everything I could to think about anything other than how soft her lips would feel or how sweet her tongue would taste. I tried not to think about all the times I’d fantasized about crushing my mouth to hers and claiming her as my own. I tried not to think about how soft her curves would be pressed against my body.

  “Do you want to kiss me?”

  Her question sounded so innocent, harmless, and straightforward. My answer was obvious. Yes, I wanted to kiss her. But there was more on the line than just what I wanted. Unfortunately, I was having a very difficult time remembering what those things were. All of the blood that should be providing my brain support seemed to have traveled south.

  “I can’t.” My eyes remained shut but I sensed her moving a step closer to me. My heart thudded against my chest and every cell in my body was screaming for me to give in to all the pent-up passion, and hell, love that I’d felt for Olivia. “We can’t.”

  “Why not?” she shot back.

  I inhaled slowly through my nose and reminded myself that she deserved better than me. She deserved a man that wasn’t broken, a man that would have acknowledged when she opened her heart to him and wrote the most vulnerable letter, a man that wouldn’t have gone years without speaking to her.

  A better man than me.

  “It’s not a good idea.”

  She was standing so close that I could feel the sensual sensation of her breath on my chest as she reasoned, “It’s just a kiss. And you owe me.”

  My eyes opened. “I owe you?”

  “Yes,” she replied confidently. “You should have been my first kiss. In that closet in O’Sullivan’s basement.”

  Shit. I didn’t think she’d remember that. My eighth grade year I was at a party at Bryson O’Sullivan’s—who now owned the Tipsy Cow—when Bentley showed up with Olivia. I didn’t remember all the details, but I knew there was a game of Spin the Bottle and then Seven Minutes in Heaven where Olivia and I ended up in a closet.

  I remember how small the space was and how scared I was to kiss Olivia. Scared that I would be like Scott from the movie Teen Wolf when he ended up in the closet with Boof. I was scared that if I kissed her, it wouldn’t just be a small peck. I remember we didn’t speak at all but just being that close to her in a dark, enclosed space had caused me to pop a massive boner. I panicked and opened the door before the time was up.

  “But you freaked out and Timmy Simms was my first kiss.”

  “The kid with the braces and really bad B.O.?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “I was so upset when you didn’t kiss me that I told myself I was going to kiss the next boy that I saw. And I rounded the corner to go up the stairs and guess who I ran smack into…”

  “Timmy Simms?”

  “Yep.”

  “Damn.” I grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want you to apologize.” Her golden eyes glistened with desire as she stared up at me. “I want you to kiss me.”

  She started to lift up on her tiptoes as her heavy lids closed.

  “Wait,” I rasped.

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  “I have to tell you something. If I’m going to kiss you, you need to know something.”

  She lowered back down, and I could see the concern in her eyes. I wasn’t trying to be dramatic, but there was no way I could do this without making a confession.

  “I’ve been watching you. Doing yoga. In the morning.”

  Her cheeks flushed and for a brief moment, I thought it was out of embarrassment. But then the corners of her mouth turned up and she said, “Good.”

  “Good?” I repeated.

  “Yeah. That was the plan.”

  “The plan?”

  “I mean not at first…The first time I did it I had no idea you’d moved in. But every morning since I did it hoping that you’d look out the window.”

  “You did?” I’d had a feeling that was the case but hearing her say it was still hard to believe.

  “Yes. I wanted you to stop seeing me as a little kid that followed you around. I wanted you to see me as—”

  I didn’t need to hear more. My hands cupped her face and I lowered my mouth and captured hers. She sucked in a
startled breath as my tongue slid between her lips. She met me lick for lick as her hands wrapped around my neck. Her soft, willing lips and suctioning kiss had my body surging with intense arousal. Desire whipped through me awakening every primal, male, caveman DNA.

  Using the last bit of sanity and evolution I had, I broke our kiss.

  “Why are you stopping?”

  “Because this isn’t a good idea.”

  “Why not?” Her lips were full and well kissed.

  “I don’t…this can’t…I don’t want…” Now I had even less blood in my brain. I was so turned on I couldn’t think straight much less articulate what I was thinking.

  “Haven’t you ever thought about it?” she asked.

  “About what?”

  “About what it would be like if we were together. If we had sex.”

  A moan vibrated in my chest as my swollen erection jumped in my sweats. I did my best to ignore it. Olivia didn’t. She looked down and her eyes widened.

  “Well, it looks like he definitely has,” she teased with a crooked grin.

  “Yes. I’ve thought about it.”

  “So have I.”

  Fuck. Hearing her say that she’d thought about being with me was hot. Really hot.

  Her hands slid beneath my shirt and her fingers trailed the waistband of my sweats. Her wrists brushed the head of my dick as she did, and it jumped again. “I’ve thought about it a lot.”

  “Olivia,” I said her name as a warning, one that she didn’t seem to be at all inclined to heed.

  “I’m not asking to be your girlfriend. I’m not even asking to date you. I just want tonight. One night. That’s it. I just want to know what it’s like to feel your hands on me. I want you to touch me, and I want to touch you. I want you to kiss me and I want to kiss you. I want to feel you inside of me.”

  Holy shit. If she kept talking like this, I was going to come in my fucking sweats.

  “I’ve never wanted anyone or anything as much as I want you, and this.”

  I stared down into her amber-colored eyes and my chest rose and fell with labored breaths. My hands itched to reach out and touch her but I knew that if I did, it would be over. There was no way that I could control myself, and then I would cross a line even more dangerous than I already had.