Page 36 of Holden

Far too much. And I need to finally get on with filling him in before it’s too late.

I lift the pizza up to my nose and inhale its herbal scent. My mouth begins to water. I nibble the end, tasting at first, aware that Holden is watching me, and then take a larger chunk. It’s delicious, and I let out an embarrassing moan.

Holden nods with approval. “I had a feeling you’d enjoy it.”

Actually, I’m enjoying all of this, every last second—the flowers, the candles, the undivided attention. So much so that I don’t want to ask questions or talk about my dissertation or my father, or anything that isn’t focused on me and Holden, just the two of us.

We eat pizza, drink beer, laugh and talk about everything and nothing, until at last, Holden suggests we leave the restaurant. My disappointment is tempered with the anticipation of us taking this date to somewhere even more private.

Holden’s car is waiting for us outside the restaurant, and I willingly climb into the back seat, already familiar with the details of this particular luxury vehicle. Soft music pulses through the speakers. I settle in and close my eyes, breathing in the scents that I’ve come to think of as his—cinnamon being the most potent.

His hand slides to my bare knee and I sigh with content. This is what I’ve been waiting for, craving. As nice as it was to sit and laugh with Holden, my body aches for his touch and in its absence I’ve been out of sorts.

When he touches me, when he’s inside me, I can forget that this is all a lie.

I can forget who I am, where I come from.

And it’s pure bliss.

I shift my leg closer, subtly uncrossing my ankles, widening the space between my thighs. Holden’s fingers inch toward my crotch, the warmth of his palm flattening the goosebumps that prickle along my skin. He pauses.

What is this sweet torture?

And then my breath hitches as his hand begins to move again, tracking inwards toward my panties. There, his fingertips brush against the flimsy, damp lace.

I’m acutely aware of our driver in the front seat, and clench my thighs in playful protest. What can the man up front see in the rearview mirror? Seemingly unfazed by the thought, Holden deftly pries my legs apart, and pulls back my underwear to reveal the soft folds of my pussy. His thumb glides along the slit.

“Holden,” I say, voice hushed, anxious.

“Shhh,” he whispers, breath hot against my throat. He pinches my clitoris between his thumb and forefinger and squeezes. “Just relax, sweetness.”

Easier said than done with his hand stuffed down my underwear.

He leans over and kisses my earlobe before taking it between his teeth. Beneath my clothing, he rolls my clit from side to side. Something about the danger of getting caught with his unabashed nonchalance stokes my desire.

An unexpected noise of approval purrs from the back of my throat. Sweat beads between my breasts.

Holden slips two fingers inside me, keeping his thumb pressed against the tight nub of my sex and stills. “That’s right, sweetness. Let me in.”

His entry is shocking and brief. He smiles as he withdraws his fingers, using them now to draw careful circles around my clit and my wet pussy lips. It takes all my willpower not to beg him to fuck me here and now, in front of his driver, the people in the cars beside us, the whole damn city for all I care.

I stop short of saying the words aloud. I’m with it enough to know how pathetic that would sound. Face hot with embarrassment, I burrow into his shoulder. “I want you, Holden,” I whisper, with a nervous laugh.

He buries his head in my hair. “Oh, I intend to fuck you again, Chelsea,” he says, voice dropping to a whisper. “But not tonight.”

Startled, I look up and realize we’re parked outside the college, and for the first time in what feels like months, Holden is not inviting me back to his apartment. I will not be sleeping next to him in his bed, waking up to his spiced coffee, or wrapping my legs around him as we gently rock ourselves to blissful pleasure.

I can’t help it. The rejection stings.

Blinking back tears, I sit straight and adjust my skirt as best I can, fumbling with the seatbelt buckle until it pops loose. I’m rooting around for my purse, my keys, my dignity when he puts a warm hand on my arm. “Hey,” he says, so soft at first I think I haven’t heard him right. “Don’t take it personal. I’ve just got…”

“A lot on your mind,” I finish.

I know things at the office haven’t been great. With Lucas doing his own thing and Mason focused on his pregnant girlfriend, Holden is taking care of business —all of it. I’ve heard some of the tense conversations between them, seen the way Holden’s jaw stiffens whenever one of them calls. There are legal bills to pay, and clients to appease, and staff to hire…

It’s a lot, and I’ve been selfish.

I swallow and blow out a breath. “I’m sorry. I know it’s been a bad week.”