Page 121 of Holden’s Resurrection

“Not done, Leigh-Leigh.”

“Okay.”

“Hold on, baby, it’s gonna be a long night.”

“Okay, honey.”

One hand gripped her hip, the other glided over her ass until his palm was in the middle of her back, then he pushed her down while he told her, “Chest to the bed and tip your ass up.”

“Holden,” she groaned and did what he asked.

Christ, but he loved it when she groaned his name.

Nowhere near done, Holden slammed into her, roughly making love to his woman. He hadn’t lied, it was a long fucking night—literally.

36

“Daisy, no!” Faith shouted and I turned to find a furry puppy attacking a stuffed animal.

“Faith, get that.”

“Trying!” she yelled and chased the dog out the front door.

Jameson paused with a box in hand and shook his head. “And that’s why I don’t want another one.”

“Another child or puppy?” Kennedy asked.

“Dog. Killer was a maniac when he was a puppy.”

“Tank,” she snapped, and my eyes went to my friend. “Sorry. I’m starving and grumpy.”

“The guys already brought the couch in. Go sit down.”

It was moving day. Obviously, Holden’s bid was accepted. Yet, he’d waited another week for the inspector to show to view the property. I still thought it was crazy he’d bought a house sight unseen, but I’d stopped mentioning it to him. As luck had it, he loved the house, so all’s well that ends well.

“The pizzas should be in here any minute,” McKenna said as she placed a stack of plates in the cabinet.

“Maybe you should go home and rest,” I told Kennedy, feeling guilty she’d been on her feet all day. “We’re done anyway.”

“And miss your welcome home party? No way. Speaking of parties, Jameson told me you got a ton of business from the Powell gig.”

“I did.” I smiled.

Thankfully, Sydney’s party had gone off without a hitch. Everything had been perfect despite the last-minute changes to the menu. And the fact that Lizza and Stone were less than pleased their daughter had received an alcohol citation the week before her party. But like any spoil-the-child parent, they blamed Jonny for his “heavy-handed” treatment of their princess. I’m not exactly sure what had gone down, just that a deal had been made that if Stone and Lizza kept Sydney on home restriction, he wouldn’t ask the State’s Attorney to file charges which could’ve landed Sydney in juvenile detention until her hearing. I had a feeling that was Jonny’s way of keeping Sydney safe since there hadn’t been a break in the case in the last month, even after I’d sent the text with McKenna’s virus. McKenna confirmed Sydney had been talking to a guy using an anonymous messaging app, but since it was anonymous, there was no email or cell number to sign up for the service, so all she had was a screen name. She’d spent a week researching the name but so far she hadn’t found that name associated with any other forum or social media.

Now after a month, I, too, was worried about Jonny. He looked horrible. Not his appearance. He was still as good-looking as ever, but it was in his eyes—devastation. Everyone saw it and all of the guys had been working extra hours trying to help Jonny. Holden had explained there was a deadline—there was a three-month pattern between assaults, and that day was drawing near. Another reason I believed Jonny was behind Sydney getting in trouble. Not that he could’ve done anything if she hadn’t been breaking the law first and been drunk and in possession of alcohol, but he was relentless in his demands that the teenager not be allowed out of her house.

“Pizza’s here, babe,” Holden said, coming into the dining room. “Do you know where my wallet is?”

I glanced around my new house and took in the boxes scattered around the room. I forgot all about Holden’s wallet when my eyes rolled up to the fantastic pine boards that made up the vaulted ceiling, then over to the stone fireplace that was a magnificent work of art and focal point of the big living room, then farther down to the knotted wood floors that had been refinished and glossed to a shine. The living room was so huge we needed more furniture to fill it up. Even my dining room table that leafed out to sit eight looked ridiculously small in the space it was now in.

McKenna’s soft laugh drew my attention to her still standing in the kitchen. It was a chef’s dream with granite countertops, double ovens, and a six-burner gas stovetop.

All of it open, so I could be in the kitchen and have an unobstructed view out the huge windows in the living room. The house was perfect. I loved it. But I really loved that Holden was happy. He’d been on top of the world as he moved our stuff into the house, never once complaining about the boxes of junk I’d accumulated over the years. True to his word, I’d never stepped foot back into my apartment. He and the guys had packed everything up and brought it to the house without me lifting a finger. All that was left to do was return the moving truck, bring his Airstream over—which I’d flatly refused to allow him to sell when he’d brought it up, and unpack.

Then we’d just be living.

“I already paid for it,” Evie said and Holden growled. “Oh, shut up, you wouldn’t let me buy you a housewarming present. You don’t get to bitch about me buying pizza.”