by Wendy Owens
“Are you sure?” he asks. “We could talk more after I close up in a few hours.”
This doesn’t seem to compute for me. I wonder if he wants a fresh face around him for the evening, or if it’s me he actually wants. I tell myself to play it cool.
He is so close now I can feel his breath on my cheek. I wonder if the other patrons in the bar are watching. “No, I should head up. I want to get a shower in.”
I watch for a shift in his expression as I mention the shower. His eyebrows lift, and I can tell the idea is intriguing to him. “Well, maybe we’ll pass in the night.”
“What?” the word slips from my lips in shock.
“You know, two insomniacs?” He narrows his brow at my assumption, and I feel my cheeks flush.
“Yeah, right. Goodnight, Holden.”
“’Night, Belle.” When he calls me by his own special nickname for me, I feel a shiver rush over me. I keep it together, making my way up the stairs, using the wall to steady myself. I don’t know what this day was, but I know for sure it was fantastic.
I shove open my door, closing it behind me once I’m in the room, and spin around, falling back onto the bed. My head is swirling, bits and pieces of the conversation floating around inside. I want to call Kenzie and tell her every detail, but I also know my stories won’t be juicy enough to satisfy her.
My phone buzzes on my nightstand, and I realize I’d left it in the room all day. Pushing myself up, I extend my arm and grab for it. I see I have six missed calls from Jack but no voicemails. In the past month I’d noticed a pattern of this with Jack. He would go quiet for days, and then all of the sudden start calling and texting me again. I assumed it was perhaps when he was unable to track down a successful booty call to fill his time.
I swipe my phone to read my text messages; there is one from Jack, received only five minutes ago,
Where are you?
I stand, tossing the phone onto the bed and strip out of my clothes, slipping on the satin robe I’d brought with me. I hear the phone buzz again. I pick it up and look at it.
You can’t just ignore me.
Oh, but I can, I think, turning off the power to the phone and sliding it into the drawer of my nightstand. I retrieve the towel from the chair in the far corner of the room and make my way to the bath at the end of the hall.
I was going to take a shower, but since it’s the middle of the evening and nobody else is around, I decide on a nice, long, hot bubble bath. I secure the door, run the water, slip into the tub, and allow the ecstasy of the warmth to bring an end to a perfect day.
Chapter Eight
A sliver of light from the moon settles on my pillow. I peer at the shadows dancing out in front of me, sleep far from my grasp, and Holden heavily on my mind. Men like Holden don’t actually exist. That’s what I keep telling myself. And also, maybe he’s not who I think he is; after all, how well can I know this guy? He seemed to open up to me, but don’t people only share enough to keep their facade intact?
Perhaps there’s more to his fiancée story. For all I know it wasn’t about escaping the small town for his mystery woman. What if Holden is just like Jack? Maybe the real reason she fled was because Holden was unfaithful.
Of course, why does it matter? When this trip is over, I’ll return to my life on the other side of the world. Does it matter if Holden is a scoundrel? I’m here to explore and learn things about myself; maybe he’s exactly what I need to start these adventures. A no-strings-attached fling that can’t possibly lead anywhere. I’ve never done that in my life. Somewhere in me, I just want to know what it would feel like to have sex with someone for the pure pleasure of it.
I punch the pillow next to me and sit up. One thing is for certain: I’m never going to get any sleep if I keep thinking about Holden all night. I stand up, and over my tank top and night shorts, I slip on my robe. I assume everyone in the house must be asleep by now, so I creep quietly out of my room and down the cool stairs in my bare feet. My last hope to put these thoughts of Holden to rest and get some sleep is a warm cup of milk, a trick my mother taught me as a kid.
The bar looks completely different in the dark. No chattering voices, no glasses clanging, and everything draped in shadows. The place takes on a cave-like atmosphere in the night. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to go into the kitchen, and the thought of doing something against the rules quickens my heartbeat. Pushing open the swinging door that separates the kitchen and bar, I realize how silly I am. Going into the kitchen is enough to get my adrenaline going ... seriously, I can’t help but giggle.
“You really are always cracking yourself up, aren’t you?”
The voice in the darkness startles me, and I let out a scream.
“Whoa, calm down. It’s just me, Holden.”
“Jesus,” I exclaim. “Give me a heart attack, why don’t you.”
“Well ...” He laughs as my eyes are adjusting to the dark room. “It is my kitchen.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t want to wake anyone,” I explain, moving toward the long prep table where he’s seated. In front of him is a cup, as well as a plate with a sandwich.
“Can’t sleep, huh?”
How can I, I think to myself. I can’t get the idea of jumping on top of you out of my head. I keep these thoughts to myself and instead nod in response. He kicks out the stool next to him, motioning for me to have a seat. As I move in closer, I catch his scent and feel my knees buckle.
“Hungry?” he inquires.
“I know this sounds crazy, but I was hoping for a warm glass of milk,” I answer.
He furrows his brow, giving me a half-cocked smile.
“What?” I gasp in defense.
“Are you twelve or something?” He laughs.
“Hey, shut up! It helps when I can’t sleep.”
Standing up, he turns and walks over to the commercial fridge against the far wall. “Who knows, maybe I should try that.” I watch him as he retrieves the milk and pours it into a pan, placing it over a burner. The cooktop makes a clicking noise until the gas ignites. He leans against the counter, waiting patiently, and I realize he’s staring at me.
As the silence between us mounts, I start to panic. I need to say something, but what? Do something! I catch sight of a shelf containing several mugs. I stand and walk over to grab two, then crossing the room, I move in close to Holden. I lean around him to place the mugs behind where he’s standing, next to the stove. He doesn’t budge, and our bodies brush against one another’s.
I’m wondering if he meant for this to happen, but at the same time backing away slowly, hesitant to look up at him. We are so close now I can hear his breathing. From the corner of my eye I see he’s watching me. Then, without even thinking, I do it. I look up into those eyes, and I’m stuck.
I stand up straight, but I’m now captivated by his stare. He isn’t looking away, so how can I? There is a foot between us, but he pushes off the counter, and begins to move forward, closing the gap, never looking away.
My heart starts racing, and my stomach is doing flips. He’s going to kiss me if I don’t move. My mind is having trouble focusing. I can’t decide if this is what I want to happen. Don’t move. Let him do it. You’re just scared. You’re always scared. Stop being scared.
He lingers, our lips now mere inches away from one another’s. He looks into my eyes as if asking for permission without words. I give a long blink, acknowledging him, hoping it’s enough to convey that I want him to take me in whatever way he desires.
“Please,” I whisper. For a second I wonder who said the word, and then I realize I was the one pleading for his lips.
His eyes grow large in excitement, and it’s clear he doesn’t plan to leave me wanting any longer. There’s so much desire in his eyes, I feel like I might melt from his stare. He wastes no more time, reaching around me and placing a hand against my lower back, pulling me against him. At the same moment our bodies collide, so do our mouths.
I don’t resist, a
llowing his grasp to envelop me. His lips part, and his tongue presses its way in, entangling with my own. It’s like an explosion happens throughout my body all at once, and I struggle telling where he begins and I end.
Before I realize what’s going on, I feel him grip my upper arms and spin me around with him. His lips begin to explore my chin and neck while his hands slip down to my hips, and then around to my butt. With an intoxicating ease, he lifts upward on my ass and places me on the counter that is now behind me. The mugs clank together as they get shoved to the side.
My robe slips off and slides down my back, and Holden doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of the newly exposed bare flesh. He pulls on one strap of my tank, dropping it over my shoulder, and sucks on my skin. He presses against me, causing my legs to fall open, and the trail of his kisses begins to burn. An ache consumes my flesh.
He pulls away just for a moment, yanking his shirt over his head, exposing his muscular arms, firm chest, and defined stomach. I bite my lip, marveling at the display of manliness before me, but I don’t have time to enjoy it. He is right back between my legs before I can take another breath.
I wrap my arms around him, digging my fingers into his back, in an animal side of me I was unaware existed. He pulls one hand up my side, gripping my breast through the fabric of the tank top. My thighs quiver when I feel him growing harder against me. I arch my back and moan. His hands cascade down my chest, and his mouth explores my nipples through the fabric of my shirt, prolonging the building ecstasy.
He pulls his mouth away long enough to groan, “God, I want you so bad.” A sizzling sound fills my ears, and I’m in utter shock. I’ve never felt such intensity.
“Oh shit!” Holden shouts before pulling away from me.
It takes a moment for me to regain my bearings and figure out what in the hell is happening. I see him grabbing a dishcloth, and that’s when I feel the intense heat on my leg. The milk has boiled over and saturated one side of my robe.
Instinctively, I hop down and step back, allowing him to scoop up the pot and rush it to the sink, trying to stop any further mess.
He’s laughing, which causes me to laugh. Then I fall silent. The reality of what just happened hits me. A panic floods over me as I question what in the hell I am doing.
Without a word, I turn and leave the kitchen, even though I hear him calling after me. I’m halfway up the stairs by the time his fingers catch hold of my arm. He grasps me firmly, whispering, “Belle? Are you okay?”
I nod, my eyes shifting all around the dark stairwell, trying to settle anywhere but on him. “Yeah, I don’t know what got into me.”
“Are you kidding, that was amazing,” he moans, leaning in close to my ear. “At least I thought it was.”
“Yeah, it was, but ...” What am I supposed to say. I can’t think straight with him so close to me.
“You don’t normally do things like that,” he interjects, as if he can read my mind.
“No, I don’t,” I confirm.
“I don’t either.” “Maybe we should just slow down a little,” I suggest. He releases my arm, and I make my way up the steps, but he’s following close behind.
“If that’s what you want,” he whispers. “I’ll see you in the morning?”
I can tell by his tone he’s concerned about what I’m thinking. That in itself is a high for me. To have this gorgeous man wondering what’s going on in my head is a power I never imagined I could have. I’m not particularly proud of this feeling, but still fully aware of it.
I dare not watch him as he walks to his room, and I know if he stops, hesitates at all, I won’t be able to stop myself. I open my door, slide inside, and press it closed, panting, trying to catch my breath in the excitement.
Collapsing onto the bed, thoughts are swimming around wildly in my head. I want to scream, but instead I bite my pillow in frustration. The passionate encounter in the kitchen replays vividly in my mind.
A second later there’s a gentle knock at the door. My breath catches in my throat, and I dare not move. I hear Holden whisper my name. Slipping my hands over my mouth, I press firmly, doing my best to remain silent.
I know why he’s here. He’s thinking about the same things, unable to shake our encounter. I can only assume he wants more. I can tell he’s still at the door, and though I’m trying to decide what I should do, I don’t budge as I play out the scenario in my mind. What would it mean if I opened that door? Allowed him to run his hands all over my body, exploring every part? Once it’s open, I know I won’t be able to stop myself.
The decision is made for me; I hear his footsteps as he returns down the hall. I wait for his door to close before I breathe again.
Letting out a huge puff of air, I toss a pillow against the wall. I’m frustrated with my choice, and know sleep after that experience is going to be even more of a challenge.
Pushing myself up in bed, I pull my journal out of my nightstand and begin writing. Nothing like a little sexual frustration to get the words flowing.
Chapter Nine
My night is riddled with dreams of Holden. His lips, his firm grasp holding my body, his teeth teasing my breasts. I awake on multiple occasions drenched in sweat. Once the sun is finally up, all I want to do is get dressed and try, once again, to find Chawton. I don’t trust myself in this building with him lurking nearby.
I slip on jeans, a t-shirt, and an off-white cardigan, pushing up the sleeves. Making my way down the stairs, I don’t linger. I’m out the front door in a matter of seconds. Once on the gravel path I let out a sigh of relief. I’d made—
“Where are you headed, beautiful?” Before I can even finish the thought, I hear Holden’s voice above me. I turn and look up to discover him leaning out the window at the end of the upstairs hallway.
“I thought I’d go for a walk,” I answer, lifting a hand up to my brow to shield the morning sun.
“Don’t move,” he shouts before disappearing.
A few seconds later he emerges from the front door. I wonder how a pair of jeans can hug someone so perfectly. He’s wearing a faded blue t-shirt and a gray button-up that hangs open. His hair still shows evidence of his morning shower, and the image of his bare chest consumes my thoughts.
I squeeze my eyes closed, and when I reopen them, he is standing in front of me.
“Did you really think you could ditch me that easily?” He flashes me a mischievous look.
“I wasn’t—” I start defensively, then laugh. “Okay, maybe I was.”
“I was waiting for you to get up; there was no hope of you escaping me,” he says to my surprise.
“You were?”
“I was hoping I could convince you to spend the day with me.” He glances down at the ground in front of me, kicking the dirt around with his toe, and the moment of vulnerability makes him even more endearing to me.
“That’s a great offer, but I was kind of hoping to visit Chawton, since I didn’t make it yesterday,” I reply, remembering Kenzie’s words of wisdom about playing hard to get, but never too hard.
“Perfect, because that is exactly what I’d planned. Be right back.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond. In a flash, he’s inside, but minutes pass before he emerges, tossing keys into the air with one hand and holding a basket at his side with the other.
“Whatcha got there?” I inquire.
“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” There is a flirtatious tone in his voice, and the day I was looking forward to just got ten times more exciting. I turn and walk in the direction of the truck. He sets the basket in the bed, then rushes to beat me to the handle, pulling open the heavy metal door.
“Why thank you.” I grin and nod with a slight curtsy, hoping I look adorable and not like a complete dork.
He walks around and climbs in, gripping the steering wheel as he does, causing his arm muscles to flex and my stomach to flip. I lick my lips, remembering the explosive kiss the night before, shifting in my seat as a slight ache begins to
rise between my legs.
“All right, confession time. I’m actually glad you’re with me,” I begin.
“Oh yeah?” he asks; a single eyebrow lifts in anticipation.
“Yeah.” I laugh, slapping his arm. “I’d hate to get lost again.”
“Nice, thanks a lot. You just want me for my tour guide skills.”
“Just being honest.”
“Well, you’ll be glad I came with you by the end of the day,” he says, starting down the long gravel drive. My imagination is going wild with what he might mean by the statement. Is it because he planned a repeat of last night? “I’m the best damn tour guide in Hampshire.”
“Oh ...” My disappointment is obvious.
“Hey, dirty bird, what did you think I meant?” he taunts. Strangely, I like it when he does this.
“I guess I can’t help myself.” I’m flirting ... I think. I’m actually flirting with this guy. And I think I’m pretty good at it.
“After last night, I don’t blame you. I can’t get it off my mind.” There! He said it first. He is the first one to acknowledge the mind-blowing collision between us. The awkwardness of it going unsaid is now gone. I sigh a breath of relief.
“Last night was ...” I start, choosing my next word carefully, “nice."
I smile at him, and he glances at me, furrowing his brow.
“That was a lot better than nice!” he exclaims, lifting his arm across the back of the seat of the truck. I use the opportunity to slide in close to him, allowing his heat to envelop me.
I don’t recognize who the hell I am, but in that moment, this close to him, his scent surrounding me, I don’t care to recognize myself. I just want to see where this day takes me.
“So Mr. Tour guide, what can I expect today?” I ask, resting my head on his shoulder. I feel his muscles stiffen beneath me for a moment, and then he relaxes. We pass the sign for Alton and I realize just how lost I’d been the day before.