Hold Me Close: A Cinnamon Roll Box Set

by Talia Hibbert

  He kissed her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her mouth, and then his tongue slipped between her lips just as his fingers curved inside her. He rubbed something sensitive and sultry and perfect, and she came. Wrapped her arms around him, sucked on his tongue as she moaned, and came. He kept stroking, kept circling her clit, until she gasped and twisted and jerked away, the sensations too overwhelming.

  But not so overwhelming that she couldn’t say, “Condom.” It wasn’t a reminder so much as a warning: You better be ready, because I’m about to need you again.

  She heard the rip of foil before he settled between her thighs, his lips soft over the pulse racing at her throat. His voice was rough and rumbling and oh-so-satisfied when he murmured, “You’re not nervous anymore.”

  She carded her fingers through the silk of his hair. “With you? I don’t know how I ever was.”

  His weight grounded her, his breath hot against her ear. His grip on her thighs was urgent, commanding. She could feel the thick head of his cock parting her folds, but he didn’t push. “Tell me you want it,” he growled.

  She responded without thought, far too truthfully. “I want you.”

  “So take me,” he murmured against her lips. “Whenever you want. Just take me.” Then, with a snap of his hips, he filled her so deep she couldn’t breathe. Sparks flew from the place where he was buried, so thick and hard and hers. She tightened helplessly around him, her moans ragged, need dancing through her veins.

  “Fuck,” Zach hissed, his forehead pressed to hers, his breaths more like pants. “Fuck. You feel like heaven.”

  And he felt like home.

  Zach thrust into Rae like an animal, sweat gilding his skin, her cries urging him on. Nothing could be better than this. She chanted, “Oh, fuck, yes,” and he knew he’d never stop. She looked up at him with something like surrender, and he knew he’d never be the same. She was his. She’d always been his. He could feel every inch of her—from the soft bounce of her breasts to the roll of her hips to her thighs spread wide for him. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, the same way she helped him fit into the world. Her cunt, so fucking hot and silky, tightened around him, fluttering as her breaths stuttered.

  “That’s right,” he murmured, the words dripping satisfaction. He slid a hand between them and felt her soft folds spread around his shaft. Her clit was a lush little bead, and when he stroked it, she spasmed beneath him. He brought his lips to her ear. “Feels so fucking good when you’re like this. If you come, I’ll lose it.”

  She laughed, breathless and broken. “Don’t stop. Faster.”

  Whatever she wanted. That’s what he would give her. Not because he had to, not because it was the only way to keep her around, not because it made him useful or worthwhile or better—but because seeing her pleasure, in any context, took him to another fucking planet. He thrust hard until she melted under him. He twisted his hips, and she gasped like he’d given her the sun. He stroked her in slow, gentle circles that didn’t match the punishing pace of his thrusts, and her moans became whimpers, then sobs.

  When she finally broke, her cunt a hot, honeyed fist around his cock, he did exactly what he’d said he would do. He lost it. Fucked her through those dizzying spasms, choked out her name in a voice like broken glass, and lost it. Every muscle in his body stiffened as electric sensation coalesced at the base of his spine—and then pleasure ripped him apart. He forgot himself for a second. He was no-one, floating through nowhere, having the greatest orgasm in history.

  When he came back, his body was limp, his arms around Rae as they lay together on their sides. He held her tight and knew this was perfection. Didn’t speak in case reality intruded. They’d spun their own world for a moment, a world where she didn’t have to worry or fight old fears or push him away, and he was happy here—so happy he could barely drag himself off to deal with the condom. Returning to her a few moments later felt like coming home.

  He must’ve dozed, in the end, because he woke up in the pitch black of true night. Rae was kissing his face, quick and sweet and frantic. “Mine,” she whispered. “Mine.” The word shimmered with electric honesty. He slid his hands into her hair and held her still and fit his mouth to hers. He could taste her tears.

  Chapter 14

  Zach woke up the next morning half-afraid it had all been a dream. The sunlight was warm and brilliant through the curtains, his body was deliciously exhausted, and Rae’s naked arse was pressed against his dick, teasing it back to life anyway. He lay there for a while and wondered how today would go—if she’d regret the things she’d said and pull away from him. And how he’d stand it.

  Then she woke up, purred, and spread her lovely legs.

  In the end, he fucked her slow and sweet from behind. Worshipped her body, kissed the line of her throat, and lived and died for the way she said his name. After, he held his breath and waited for her to speak. To bring this thing between them fully into the light.

  But it never happened. They didn’t talk about the night before, about the touches or the tears. Instead, she kissed him tenderly on the mouth, then gave him a one-sided smile that made his heart beat faster. And if something in his mind whispered that this wasn’t enough, that they needed to communicate—to finally be straight with one another—well… that whisper was easy to ignore when he had Rae to hold.

  And when he had a job to do. He was still her fake boyfriend, and he remembered as they dressed for breakfast that tonight was the awards ceremony. Rae was nervous as fuck; she hid it well, but he could tell. Worry made her edgy and thoughtful and quiet. She needed his support—yet another reason to save his difficult, what-about-us questions until they got home.

  She looked worn and vulnerable today in a cartoon cactus T-shirt, slight shadows cradling her eyes. But tiredness didn’t stop her from typing frantically on her phone every so often—so fast and so focused that Zach knew she was spinning stories. Judging by the look of satisfaction on her face, Rae’s writer’s block had well and truly broken. So, as they wandered down the corridor toward the lift, he coaxed her out of nervous silence and into storytelling.

  “Myra’s on the examination table,” Rae was saying, while Zach melted at the cautious excitement in her voice. “The stone is cold against her bare skin; her body is strung tight with the effort of keeping still. Her husband holds out a hand, and murmurs, ‘Alanna. The talisman.’”

  Zach interrupted just to get on her nerves, to distract her even further from the weight of their evening plans. “I’ve got questions about this Alanna character. Where, exactly, did she come from?”

  Rae shot him an unconvincing glare. The corner of her mouth twitched, her eyes sparkled with something indefinable, and laughter danced beneath her reprimand. “Shut up and listen to the story.” They swerved out of the way of a cleaner’s trolley and murmured polite greetings like normal human beings. Then they went back to irritating each other.

  “I’m just wondering,” Zach said reasonably. “Like, is he fucking her? Is she pure evil, or something? Who would sleep with a guy who cuts up his own wife for fun?”

  “If you stop blabbing for a second,” Rae said sweetly, “you’ll find out.”

  “Sorry. Sorry! Go on.”

  “You’re too kind.” She rolled her eyes. “So. Lune holds out his hand and says, ‘Alanna. The talisman.’ Alanna steps out of the shadows, and Myra sees the woman completely for the first time. She doesn’t look quite human, but then, neither does Myra’s husband.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Zach asked. “Alanna, I mean.”

  Rae tutted. “I was getting to that.”

  “Well, come on. The suspense is killing me. What is she, green?”

  “Of course she’s not green. She’s not a bloody plant.”

  “Beast Boy’s green,” Zach pointed out. “He’s not a plant.”

  Rae wrinkled her nose. “Who the hell is Beast Boy?”

  “Oh, Rae. Rae. You did not just say that.” Zach clasped a hand to his
chest, giving her a look of agonised betrayal. “You and me need to have a little talk about your comic book education.”

  She smiled slowly and murmured, “Educate me, then.”

  Just like that, electric heat burned away his amusement.

  They took the stairs that morning, instead of the lift. There were more dark corners.

  Zach spent the rest of the day stealing Rae’s breathless kisses, just to feel her soften and relax in his arms. At the panel discussions they watched that afternoon, he whispered nonsense in her ear and made her laugh when she was trying to be serious. And every time, she gave him this hopeful, tentative look from the corner of her eye, as if she didn’t quite believe things could be this easy, but she wanted to.

  She’d get used to it. He’d make sure.

  That evening, he sat on the bed in his suit, compulsively checking his watch. There wasn’t much planning involved tonight; his schedule covered such complicated points as Get ready and Walk downstairs. But he was nervous, because Rae was nervous, so he found himself breaking their time into tiny pieces. If they left in five minutes, they’d have about seven minutes to wander down and find their seats, and maybe eight minutes before the event itself really got going. He’d given Rae a ten-minute warning fifteen minutes ago, because he’d known she’d be late, so altogether…

  She came out of the bathroom, and her presence wiped his mind clean. Zach was facing the window, so he didn’t see her. He didn’t really hear her either; her bare feet were quiet against the carpet. But something in the air shifted, warmed, until he felt more comfortable in his own skin, and he knew. Then he saw her reflection in the window, and that turned out to be a good thing, because if he’d looked at her directly without warning, he might’ve passed the fuck out.

  She was so beautiful, he still couldn’t believe it sometimes.

  He stood, turning to face her. Rae wore the kind of fancy, floor-length dress that he didn’t have the words to describe accurately. All he could say: it was a pale blue that made her brown skin glow; it had thin straps and a low neckline shaped like a heart; its silky fabric clung to her curves, then flared out softly from her knees. Her hair was up in some fancy style with actual jewels stuck in it, as if she really was a princess. Or a queen, more like. She looked like a distant, regal, fairy-tale creature and it was doing strange things to his insides.

  But she was worried about tonight. He saw it in the way she held herself, and the way her tongue pushed out her cheek. His heart squeezed because she was so fucking brilliant, yet she still doubted herself.

  He spoke without thinking. “It doesn’t matter if you win.”

  She smiled softly. “I know.”

  “So why are you freaking out?”

  Her mouth twisted, the smile turning rueful. “Not sure. Knowing and feeling are two different things.”

  “But you’re okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m okay.”

  “Good.” He crossed the room to take her hands, pulling her closer. When she came without hesitation, something tense inside him started to unravel. He wrapped his arms around her waist, held her a little too tight—but she held him tight, as well, her fingers twisting his shirt, creasing the fabric. He nuzzled her neck, breathed her in, and told her, “You look perfect.”

  “Thank you.” She must have heard the love-struck fervency in his voice, but she didn’t push him away. “You’re not too shabby yourself.”

  “I know,” he winked, and she laughed. Then he sobered again, because it was important that she understand something. “You know you already won, right? You came here, and you had a good time, and you took up the space you’re entitled to. You won. Tell me you get that.”

  “I do.” Humour sparked in her dark gaze, and she flashed him a smile. “Plus, I finally got laid.”

  Not so long ago, the way she said that might’ve given him pause. But he was confident, now, that she felt something for him, something real—so he just laughed, and meant it.

  “I got laid by you,” she added, making the whole thing sweeter. “Zach Davis, hottest guy on earth.”

  He cupped her face, desperate to kiss her, and whispered, “Flatterer.”

  She kept going, her eyes burning into his, as if they were trying to share something her lips couldn’t bear to spill. “The hottest guy on earth and the best man I know. I have another secret: I wouldn’t take anyone else.”

  It was like she knew exactly what to say to silence the last of his whispering demons. Tomorrow they would leave this place and all its complications behind. He would tell her everything that he’d kept locked inside his chest, and it wouldn’t scare her away. Because she would feel the same.

  He kissed her hard, until she laughed and warned, “Makeup.” He’d hate to ruin something that had taken her so long, so he made a face and smacked her arse. Then he enjoyed the hell out of her widening eyes and her slight, shy smile.

  “Soon as this ceremony ends, Rae…”

  She licked her lips. “Tease.”

  The awards were held in a huge function room, rammed with so many circular, white tables that the space seemed impossibly cramped. There was a stage put up against a backdrop of blue velvet, and a screen hovered against that backdrop, currently displaying the Burning Quill logo. At the front of the stage was a podium flooded by spotlights and a little table holding a ton of awards that looked like bronze quills. The room already hummed with chatter, guests buzzing from table to table like bees in a hive.

  Zach noticed more than a few eyes turning their way as they skirted through the crowd, and he knew Rae did too. He kept waiting for her to look uncomfortable, to shrink the way she sometimes did in this world. Her ex-husband’s world.

  Except she didn’t.

  The Rae in front of him, tugging him along by the hand, was the Rae he knew from Ravenswood. Head high, pace unhurried, almost obnoxiously unconcerned. When she looked for their table, her eyes slid over the gawkers like a dare: Go on. Keep watching. Maybe I’ll put on a show. He couldn’t control his grin.

  When they finally found their place on the left side of the room, not too far from the front, she sat like a queen on a throne and crossed her legs in a flash of blue silk. He dragged his chair closer to hers, slung an arm over her shoulders, and prepared for a long evening of ignoring everyone else at their table. Whispering with Rae was way better than acting like an adult, and tonight he was going to indulge himself.

  “You excited?” he murmured, his lips hovering just below her ear. Right where he knew she was deliciously sensitive.

  She shivered, flicked him a warning look, but couldn’t hide her smile. “Stop that.”

  “What? This?” He brushed his lips over her skin, and she released a breathy sigh. Then she put her hand high on his thigh and squeezed.

  From the corner of her mouth she whispered, “I can make tonight very difficult for you.”

  He didn’t doubt it. Fuck, the sight of her was making things ‘difficult’. He kissed her cheek and said ruefully, “Got it.”

  Her laugh was low and satisfied.

  Zach shook his head, grinning, and looked up—right into the eyes of Kevin Cummings. Everything that had been soft and warm in Zach solidified, his back teeth meeting with a clack. He glared daggers and hoped the Fuck off message was clear. Rae did not need this prick staring at her all night. Although, with the mood she was in, she’d probably handle it fine.

  Kevin looked away after a moment, fiddling with his shirt collar. Grey suit, maroon tie, and beside him was the wife—Billie, Zach thought—in a dress the same deep shade of red. Kid was nowhere to be found, which at this time of night was probably for the best. Zach kept half an eye on Twat and Twatter while he and Rae chatted. As the evening got underway and the emcee took to the stage, he couldn’t help but notice that Kevin and Billie’s eyes were drawn to Rae like flies to honey. Billie’s most of all, her pale gaze flicking over every five goddamn seconds. She seemed almost… nervous.

  What did she think Ra
e was going to do, storm over there and slap her? Zach rolled his eyes and looked away.

  The ceremony wasn’t as boring as it could’ve been, mostly because everyone who won made a genuinely interesting acceptance speech. Rae sat through them all with a polite smile and faraway eyes, but the tension humming through her body told him she was still on edge. And then, finally, her category came.

  The emcee was an older woman with flaming red hair and a loud, sixty-a-day rasp that was charming rather than grating. She was swathed in green and black velvet, her many crystal necklaces clattering when she moved. She waved her thin arms excitedly—which was an action she executed often—and said hoarsely, “The nominees for best debut are…”

  With each name and title, a book appeared on the screen behind her. When Zach saw Rae’s, it was all he could do not to surge to his feet and cheer like a parent on a school sports day. He watched Rae’s face instead and witnessed her quiet, consuming pleasure. Pride like he’d never felt before flooded his heart with warmth.

  He pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, “You done good, Baby Ann.”

  She must’ve been happy as fuck, because she didn’t even glare at him. Just smiled wider and murmured, “I have, haven’t I?”

  The emcee took a deep breath and intoned, “And, the winner is…”

  Everything about Rae stilled.

  “Heartsworn by Thomas Murray!”

  Rae barely faltered, clapping loudly for the guy who’d won—a white-haired man with glasses and an awed, disbelieving expression. But Zach saw the momentary shadow in her eyes and the tiny slump of her shoulders. He bent his head to kiss one of those shoulders and said beneath the cover of applause, “I’ve decided awards are for losers.”