Chapter Thirty-Eight
THIS FEELS MORE like a movie scene than real life. Holland’s kiss is eager and demanding—in the best way. With each second his mouth is on mine, the rest of the world falls away, piece by piece.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he says and my heart sings and sinks at the same time.
He doesn’t want me to leave. Part of me doesn’t want to leave either. No matter how much I could’ve planned, Jack put me on the trajectory to meet Holland. And I never saw him coming.
“I know the feeling,” is all I can say before I get too emotional. The tears in my eyes are happy ones. I wrap my arms around his neck and try to explain myself with my lips. Feverish kisses.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Drinks were had. I wanted to come here and then I was fucking scared. I needed to sort my brain out.” He looks around the room while he’s explaining.
I grab his chin and lean in slowly to kiss him and bring my body to his.
Holland takes one of his hands and curls it around my neck. His fingers and grip are strong as he slowly brings my face closer to his. It’s not overwhelming or uncomfortable but hot.So hot.
“I’ve been thinking of all the things I want to say to you, but between the bourbon and being up most of the night, I don’t know if now’s the time.” Holland’s voice is quick and I can hear the exhaustion in his voice.
“Shh. Don’t worry about it. We can talk tomorrow.” I do my best to reassure him. I lean in close and put my finger on his lips.
Our noses touch, and Holland locks his eyes on mine. From here, I can see flecks of gold in those rich eyes. Bright spots. Just like him.
And he kisses me.
Time slows and something changes at this moment. There’s a shift. It’s something that I feel down to my bones. Holland is someone. This issomething.
I’m terrified because I didn’t see it coming.
With my thoughts running wild and Holland kissing me like he is, I do the only thing I know to do. I nervously laugh.
“I have a rule about drunk men in my hotel room.” I smirk at my own joke.
Holland is unbothered. He throws his head back and scoffs. “Honestly, just being near you is enough for me. Can I stay here tonight?”
My heart cracks. I know how difficult it is for him to ask me that.
“Of course.” I put my hands on the side of his face, like he did when I was drunk in his shower. He closes his eyes.
I knew something. Before Holland was outside my door. Before he was kissing me like I was the air he needed. I knew I was in trouble.
Deep trouble.
When we’re in bed—me in my matching pajamas and Holland in his briefs—he throws an arm over my stomach. He’s on his side and his hand rests on my hip. It’s like we’re puzzle pieces. Almost like my hip was meant for his hand. We fit together perfectly.
Out of habit, I reach for my phone and open a social app. I scroll for a few minutes. A few notifications come in, vibrating the phone in my hand.
“What are you doing?” Holland asks, his voice groggy with sleep.
“Scrolling.” It sounds dumb as soon as it comes out of my mouth.
“The light. The buzzing.” He doesn’t finish his thought but I know what he means. “Can it be just you and I tonight?” His voice is syrupy sweet and I’m going to melt into a puddle.
“Of course it can.”
I put my phone in the nightstand drawer and then kiss Holland’s cheek. I snuggle into the side of him and get comfortable.
A few minutes later, the phone buzzes. It’s more obnoxious than if I would’ve left it out.
