But he wanted more, which was why he didn’t want to rush this. Holt wanted her to understand that he wasn’t here for physical gratification. Well, in a sense, he was, but there was far more to this than sex. Being that she was a small-town girl and he was technically only a guest for a short while longer, Holt didn’t want her to get the impression he was here for one thing. Or worse, he didn’t want Bailey to see this as temporary because he couldn’t see himself leaving. Not this small town, not Rafe, and certainly not her.
He composed himself as best he could while Bailey pulled the pot pie from the oven. He poured more wine into their glasses and watched as she worked. She was at ease in this space and beautiful as she went through the motions. So graceful, so self-assured. As though this was where she’d always wanted to be. Baking was obviously something she loved.
She gifted him with a smile as she dished up the food, arranging it on white plates with care and attention to detail. He couldn’t stop watching, mesmerized by the little things like her small fingers curled around the spoon, the way she delicately scooped the food as though it would taste better if she were gentle.
Yeah, he was falling for her. Never in his life had he admired the little things. Hell, he rarely slowed down long enough to notice them. But with Bailey, he noticed everything.
When she was satisfied with her work, she picked up both plates and turned toward the two-seater table in the nook. “You hungry?”
Holt managed a nod. He was starving. For both food and for her, but he couldn’t find his voice. It was lodged somewhere in his sternum because, at the moment, he was overwhelmed by it all.
Bailey set the plates on the table. “Let me get some napkins.”
Holt pulled out his chair but didn’t sit, waiting for her to do so first. When she finally eased into the chair opposite him, he managed to plant his ass in the chair, adjusting to accommodate the hard-on he was still sporting.
She was apparently waiting for him, so he picked up his fork and took a bite. Her eyes glazed over as she followed his movements, watching as he chewed.
“Bailey?”
She took a sip of wine, her eyes lifting to his. “Hmm?”
“I won’t be able to do this with you looking at me like that.”
She set the glass down, and he expected her to pick up her fork, but instead, she got to her feet.
“I can’t do this either,” she said, stepping closer.
He turned in his chair as she approached. “If this is about Rafe—”
She put her finger over his lips and grabbed his wrist. When she tugged, he stood up.
“I think dinner’s gonna have to wait,” she whispered.
He didn’t think this was her way of kicking him out, but Holt needed her to spell it out for him. He needed her to be the one to instigate this so she would remember that he’d held firm to his gentlemanly routine, although it had been ridiculously hard.
“What did you have in mind?”
Her hazel eyes moved over his face before locking on his gaze. “Holt.”
“Yes?”
Bailey’s lips parted, and he waited with bated breath.
“Fuck me.”
“Christ Almighty,” he growled, lunging for her.
Curling his hands behind her thighs, Holt lifted her off the floor. Her arms circled his neck as she crushed her mouth to his. He stumbled his way through the apartment, refusing to look where he was going because there were more important things to focus on, like rubbing the damp heat between her legs with his fingertips and listening to her moan into his mouth.
When he stopped at the first door, Bailey shook her head but didn’t stop kissing him. He took that to mean he was at the wrong room, so he moved a few more feet to the next and walked inside. He eased her down onto the bed and urged her onto her back. When he stood, he noticed the comforter and pillows were all a brilliant white, and the vivid colors of her dress stood out, making her look ethereal.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
Her cheeks turned rosy as he ripped his T-shirt over his head.
Her eyes moved over his bare torso. “Wow.”
No doubt about it, he felt ten feet tall and bulletproof from the awe in her tone. He was grateful for his workout regimen, and while he wasn’t beefed up like some of the hay-slinging cowboys he’d seen in town, he could hold his own.
