by Trisha Wolfe
Her arms are still locked around my neck, and her chest is rising and falling with her heavy breaths. “Just answer me one thing,” she says, and I swallow, terrified of what she wants to know. I force a nod, my movement stiff.
“There’re things you can’t tell me. I get that. But I think I deserve to know just one.” She blinks hard, and I watch as fear covers her eyes. “Did you ever love me?”
The world shifts under my feet. And I don’t know if it’s because I’m relieved or angry she asked that. Relieved because she didn’t ask the one thing I can’t tell her, or angry because I’ve wanted to tell her so badly for so long, but if I admit the truth—it means I don’t deserve her.
My mouth parts, and before I can grasp a full, coherent thought, I hear myself say, “I never stopped loving you.”
She licks her lips, and my heart beats like a freight train. “Make love to me, Holden.”
And it’s my fucking undoing.
I bend at the knees and grasp the backs of her thighs, lifting her into my arms. Unlike the show, or at the tree when I was a screwed up teenager who didn’t have a clue, I don’t stop. I walk her across the room and press her against the wall, so hard, I can feel every one of her curves against my body.
But hell if another thought doesn’t stick my brain. Lowering her feet to the ground, I step away. Sam releases a soft groan, and it tears at my insides. I have to do this first, though. I look into her eyes. “Do you trust me?”
She nods. “Yes.”
Untangling her arms from around my neck, I place them by her sides and then walk to her pack. Finding the bag of prescriptions, I read the labels. Then I pinch one of the antipsychotic pills between my fingers. I inhale a massive breath as I stalk back to her.
Standing before her, I hold up the pill. Her eyes widen. “Open your mouth.”
If she’s truly in her right mind, if she’s given us any thought at all, if she’s ready to release my brother’s ghost . . . This is it. If she’s not, all she has to do is tell me no.
I’ll fucking jump out the window if she does. Because there’s no way I’m coming down from what she just said. But I do love her. And this . . . between us—it has to be right.
With a trembling chin, she opens her mouth. I’m just as shaky as I place the pill on her tongue. Her throat moves as she swallows the medication. And then just as quickly, my lips are on hers, tasting the bitterness of the pill on her tongue. I work hard to make that taste disappear.
Every emotion, every pent up frustration, is barreling out of me at once. I’m worried I’m going to hurt her if I don’t slow down. But I can’t. My hands are on her hips. Then her ass. Her tits. I’m all over the place.
“I don’t know where to start,” I say, my voice quivering with my restrain.
She laughs, and it’s the best sound. “Don’t hold back. You won’t break me.” It’s like she read my mind. I’m suspended for one moment while I stare into her eyes, then with a groan, I sink to my knees.
She gasps as I strip off her God awful pants. Her hands go to my shoulders, and I look up. “Spread your legs.” Her eyes hold mine as she does, and then I’m touching her hips, my fingers skimming her pink underwear. I kiss her stomach, trailing my tongue across her skin.
I desperately want to finish tasting her. For this first time—because, oh, there will be many more tonight—I want to make her come how I wanted to that night in Memphis. My thumb grazes her clit through the material, and my cock extends rock hard at the feel of how wet she is.
I have to reach down and adjust myself, or I’m going to hurt. Then I’m sliding her underwear to the side, staring at and loving her smoothness. Softness. The scent of her body wash mingles with her desire, and I can’t take it. I pull her underwear down and help her step out of them. Then with a want I’ve never felt before, I close my mouth around her, and she digs her nails into my shoulders.
Sliding a finger into her, I stroke my tongue over her clit. Her thighs tremble against my arms. I pull one of her legs over my shoulder so she can balance, because I’m not stopping now. As she gets wetter, she tightens around my finger, and I suck her into my mouth.
“Oh, shit,” she breathes.
A deep rumble vibrates from the back of my throat as I work my finger harder against the swell. Her leg wraps tighter around me, pulling me to her, and I nip, just a slight tease with my teeth. She begins to shatter under my touch, under my mouth and tongue. And I fucking love it.
Her hips arch into me, begging for release. “Come for me, Sam. So hard. Right now.” My voice is raspy and low, and I can’t believe I’m able to talk—I’m about to come out of my skin.
And as she as does, she tightens around my finger to the point where I can only press against the swollen mound. I swirl my tongue over her clit as she trembles and arches one last time. Her breathing intensifies until she’s panting, her body tensing, and then she sags against the wall.
I look up at her, beautiful and satisfied, as she lowers her gaze. “You do know I’m far from finished.” No other words have ever been truer. Just feeling her . . . and watching her . . . I almost blew in my boxers. I’m not sure if I can hold out, but I have to be inside her. Now. Then I’ll take my time. Making sure I memorize every inch of her. Inside and out.
Then, “Shit.” I thunk my forehead against the wall between her thighs.
“Oh—” She jerks, and I realize my hair just grazed her sensitive area.
“Sorry.” I sit back on my heels and raise my head. “Just . . . I didn’t bring anything.”
She tugs at her bottom lip with her teeth. “You mean a condom?” I nod, and I want to ram my head right through the wall. “Holden, I’m on birth control.”
“But you haven’t taken any pills the whole time we’ve been on the road.”
She rolls her eyes. “There are other kinds other than pills. Shit.” She laughs, and her voice is music.
“You’re not worried about . . .” Hell.
A slow smile crawls across her face. “Well, you know who I’ve been with. And”—she hikes her brows—“would you really be with me if there was something I should worry about?”
I feel my forehead crease. “No. Never.” I grasp her thighs and stare into her face, worshipfully, like I’m knelt in prayer. “I swear to you, I’ve always been safe.”
Sliding down along the wall, she lowers herself, her legs spread and her knees bent on either side of me, and it’s the sexiest thing I have ever seen. Her arms slip around my waist, and my want for her is on fire again. She trusts me.
Reverently grasping her face, I lean in and kiss her slow and deep. Then running my hands down her shoulders, arms, waist, I find and clutch the hem of her tee. I only break the kiss to lift it over her head and toss it behind me.
My pulse goes right to my dick as I take in her breasts. Perfect. Round. Sultry as hell. Her nipples, beautiful and a perfect shade of pink, harden under my admiring gaze. The tatted stars gracing her collarbone only accentuate her beauty. She’s fucking gorgeous. And what’s more, there’s no shame on her face. She allows me to look her over unabashed, and that’s the biggest turn on yet.
Then, fear thunders in my chest. I have to remove my shirt. Once I take it off . . . fuck. She’s going to think I’m demented, if she doesn’t cringe in revulsion first.
Her fingers trail my stomach. “I’ve been dying to see your tattoo.” And as her hand reaches the bottom of my T-shirt, I grasp her wrist.
“Wait.” I swallow hard. “I’ll do it.”
Her face twists in confusion. Closing my eyes, I quickly yank my shirt off by the back of the collar before I lose my nerve, and hear her slight gasp. I don’t know if it’s because of the tat or the scar.
My muscles tense as I feel her warm, soft hands touch my skin. The pads of her fingers trace one of the wiry branches that wraps my shoulder, then roam down, over my pec. Further exploring to my rib cage, and to where the black trunk extends to the top of my hip. And then, to my horror, her
fingers search the scar. The callous, mangled skin that the ink would only take in parts. So much like her tree. Dead. Lifeless. Unfeeling. I ache, craving to feel her touch through the numb scar tissue.
“Open your eyes, Holden.”
Slowly, I do. And the depth of acceptance in her yellow-green irises startles me.
“You did this . . . for me?”
I nod once, my neck rigid. “Something beautiful to cover something ugly. Something I wanted, loved, needed so badly . . . but had to settle for a memory.”
A tear falls from her eye, and I palm her cheek, catching it. Bringing her into me, I press her soft skin to mine and caress her lips in a tender kiss. One that reaches into my soul.
I pull back just enough to whisper, “I’m going to make love to you now.”
Her eyes flick to mine. “I don’t want sweet, Holden. That would be fake. I need to feel every emotion. Every raw, grating, painful emotion we’ve ever felt, and every bit of the desire and love we’ve denied ourselves.”
The dam that’s been holding me back fragments, and with an unstoppable force, I burst through it. My lips crush hers, and I’m pushing her against the wall. Then grabbing her waist, hauling her to her feet.
Her hands go to my boxers, and I suck in a breath against her lips. She tugs the elastic and then uses her foot to push them down my legs. And, oh, my shit. It’s the hottest thing a girl has ever done to me.
She takes me in her hand, and I groan as her palm works to make me harder than I’ve ever been. And the thought hits me. No condom. I’ve never not used one. No barrier. But with Sam, I can’t imagine any other way. I want to feel her. Completely. Nothing between us.
She continues to stroke me, and if she keeps it up, I’ll be through. With one last, long kiss, I inhale her, then grip her shoulders and turn her chest to the wall. I press up against her and grab her wrists. Sliding them above her head and securing them there, I drop my mouth to her neck.
Need pours through me, and I sink my teeth into her skin, eliciting a moan from her. Then I’m pushing her hands harder against the wall as my body pins hers, my mouth devouring her skin. Her wet hair touches my heated skin, the mix of cool and hot spiking my blood with hunger.
Shackling her wrists together with one hand, I reach down with my other to spread her legs. My hand finds her wet center, and my eyes roll into the back of my head as I slide a finger between her smooth lips. Making sure she’s ready.
Hell, she is so ready. Her hips move with my hand. “Fuck, Holden. Now.”
A shuddering quake seizes my body at her breathy words, and then I’m stabbing between her thighs, sliding against her lips, her wetness soaking me. I cup her in my hand, and my fingers find her opening. For one second, I keep myself there. Savoring the feel of her ass kicked out against me, my cock pressed against her softness, before I enter her with a long, deep and slow thrust.
Skin against skin. Sam against me . . . I’m crashing. There’s no more holding back. As she lets loose a moan, I pull out and push inside again, deeper, and harder. She feels so fucking good, I have to rest my forehead against her shoulder, just to try and pace myself. But as her body moves with mine, intensely meeting each of my thrusts, something primal reaches into me. I have to have her all at once.
I slam my chest against her back, and she cries out. Calls my name. And the plea in her voice, my name on her lips . . . It’s fucking heaven. She tries to whisper, her breaths clipping her words. “The people . . . in the next . . . room . . .”
“Fuck ‘em,” I grit out between clenched teeth, but I drop my hand from her wrists and place it over her mouth. “Bite down if you have to.”
Then I slam into her with a raw, unguarded thrust. She bucks against me and her teeth sink into my fingers. The pain mixed with the overwhelming pleasure only speeds my rhythm. I seize her hip, my fingers digging in to find purchase against her slick skin, and drive deeper. A groan rips from my throat. I’m losing control.
“I want to look into your eyes,” I growl as I pull out of her. Spinning her around, I lift her by the waist and carry her to the bed.
As I fall with her to the mattress, her legs wrap around me, and it’s like we’ve been cast together. We fit together too fucking perfect. Finding her center easily, I brace my elbows on the bed and grasp her face so I can stare into her eyes as she comes . . . so she can release me.
As I thrust into her, she arches her back, her nipples grazing my chest, and her throaty moan is so sexy. Straight up missionary has one advantage. I bear down, sliding my pelvis against her clit, and she writhes beneath me . . . fuck.
Again, I rest my hand over her mouth so she can cry out without the worry of being heard, and she does. She bites the fuck out me, and I pump into her harder as she demands more. “Sam . . . Fuck . . . that’s it. Come for me.” She tightens around me, and I force my eyes to hold hers as she breaks over the edge. Then I bite down on her shoulder as I’m pulled deeper into her as she peaks. And I fall apart.
With a final thrust, I come undone. A guttural noise is wrenched from the back of my throat as I release deep into her, my body trembling. And then I drop against her. My breaths labored and my chest heaving with hers.
I hear the vibration of her sweet laugh, and then, “Holy fucking hell.”
Lifting up, I look down at her, taking in the glow of her cheeks, the shine of her skin, her eyes bright and jewel-like. I fucking love this girl. “I promise, it will only get better.”
I kiss her.
SAM
I wake with a hunger. Not the kind that craves food. Holden’s arm is draped over my bare hip, his chest pressed to my back. I can feel his shallow breaths as they stir my hair.
Rolling over to face him, I place my hand on his pec, splaying my fingers over his tattoo. It’s gorgeous. An exact replica of our tree. And I can’t believe how perfectly he captured it. My heart pangs.
My finger traces the scarred skin beneath the ink. I wanted to ask him how so badly . . . but I already know. Well, at least some of the answer. His father. He must have done something awful to Holden to make a scar like this, and I promised him I would never bring it up again. Wouldn’t ask. Not until he’s ready to talk about it.
He’s covered the pain with more pain. I imagine him getting this tattoo, thinking of us. Of our one, short, unfulfilled moment. And my chest is so heavy it aches. I gasp in a breath. I can only try to make it something beautiful, like he said. From now on.
His eyes blink open and, before he has a chance to say anything, I’m moving on top of him. He rolls so that I’m lying chest to chest against him. “Damn, girl. More? Already?”
I nod. “You made a promise. I’m seeing that you keep it.” Then I let my hair fall to his chest as I press a tender kiss to a branch covering the tip of his scar. He releases a shuddering breath, and I kiss him again, working my way along his rib cage.
As I scoot down, I find him already hard and ready. And I don’t deny him. I ease back and feel him sink into me.
“Fuck, Sam . . .” he whispers huskily.
I look up with a wide smile stretching my lips. “That’s what I intend to do, Holden.”
A deep laugh escapes his mouth. And I love the sound. I love that it feels like we’ve been like this forever. We fit together seamlessly. Without effort. I don’t have to hold back, ever.
I loved being with Tyler . . . but it wasn’t like this. Carnal. Raw. Demanding. I never knew I wanted or craved this until tonight. Like my body has just been waiting for it. Waiting for me to get a clue.
And I know, without a doubt—understanding for the first time—it’s possible to love more than one person. Just in different ways. I’ve been saying just that—but didn’t really believe it. Not until now. Holden completes me on a deep and honest level, to the core, where Tyler couldn’t reach.
It’s bittersweet. That I finally found it, and it was with Holden all along, but painful that I still love Tyler so much. No one will ever replace his spot in my heart.
>
I could be angry about the past . . . about how Tyler handled things. About how Holden handled them. But there’s no use. Nothing will come from it. I just want to revel in this moment. And I always have my sessions to unleash if I have to later.
Letting my thoughts drift away, I raise up and begin to move on top of Holden, rocking my hips, taking him in deeper. His hands go to my thighs, gripping and guiding, as I let my head fall back. Lost in him.
I should be exhausted, completely and utterly, unable to speed my rhythm, deepen our love making. But within seconds, we’re meeting each other with heavy, powerful thrusts that nearly make me climb over the edge.
Holden sits forward and wraps an arm around my waist. “No, you don’t. Not yet . . .” And then I’m brave, stopping his advance as I lift off him.
“Trust me,” I say, and he smiles, slow and sexy. My heart flutters.
Turning myself to ride him backward, I brace my knees on the bed and lower myself over him. He releases a hiss, and then his hands are on my shoulders, pushing me down hard on him.
One of his hands cups my breast, the slat between his fingers pinching my nipple, and he applies just enough pressure to make me feel it deep in my core. Pulsing. It travels into my stomach, my back. Through my whole body. That ache and charge, a flowing current.
My hips work harder, rocking and slamming against him as he thrusts to meet me each time. His fingers dig into my skin as he tightens his hold on my shoulder, his forearm anchored across my chest. His other hand moves between my breasts, giving each one attention, or maybe in an attempt to try and feel every part of me at once.
I’m becoming just as desperate as I try to take all of him into me, needing every inch of his impressive cock inside me. “Holden . . . there . . . fucking harder . . .” And when the ache builds to the point of pain—when Holden is growling and driving in as far as he can, my body screaming for release—I tumble. Falling over the edge, my body pulsing with shock waves of pleasure.
“Shit . . . Sam . . . you feel fuck . . . too good . . .” He tightens his hold around me and thrusts deep as he comes. I feel him; warm, pulsing, hard, pressing against my walls. It heightens my orgasm until I cry out, and then I’m sagging against his chest. Our labored breaths in sync.