He must put in serious time to stay this sculpted. If I wasn’t a little obsessive with details, I never would’ve noticed his knee pain.
What he said at The Met keeps running through my mind. The way he spoke about his family, clearly his top priority.
Such willingness to do whatever it takes to protect them, to provide for his little girl and his parents.
I bet PopPop left him enough to make that happen. He was always generous with his employees.
For Holden, that’s all that counts.
Enough for his people.
Not enough forhim. That never seems to enter the equation.
I prop myself up on my pillow now, gazing down at his face, still cast in liquid darkness.
The strong bridge of his nose, his square jaw, the slight scar above his eye.
He’s so big he might fall off the bed if he was turned the other way.
His bulging biceps remind me how easily he could throw me around.
Oh, this is bad.
Sure, he can be cold and rude and awful. But tonight, he’s so warm and peaceful. Today, he’s been real.
His body heat soaks through the bed into me. Or else I’m imagining it does.
It’s been an emotional rocket ride of a day, going from making up over breakfast to our little not-date at The Met, and now this.
Waking up beside him with a pathetic hangover.
I’m not sure if it’s the hangover or the temperature in here, but I shiver in the chill night air.
Do I dare?
I shift closer.
Somehow, being next to him, touching him, feels like curling up beside a roaring fire. Everything I need right now.
He doesn’t stir as I rest my head on his shoulder so gently.
The craziest part of today was how the museum tripfeltlike a date. Better than any date I’ve had in years, hands down.
Bad, bad thoughts.
I didn’t realize how horny I was, I guess.
I’ve been too busy and tired for a no-frills hookup for months.
Apparently, that makes me susceptible to intrusive sexy thoughts abouthim.
Bonkers.
Holden Verity, who’s too old, too frigid, and not remotely interested. I think he’d rather immolate himself than kiss me.
We’ve had a rough time over the years, and now that I’m grown, it’s harder. Talking to him like a grown man instead of a pesky extension of Gramps’ authority, that’s new, too.
We’re still practically strangers—two opposites sharing a life out of convenience, just like this bed.
