Page 49 of Cruel Dynasty

“I’m not interested in Spencer’s hand-me-downs.” He practically spit the words. Then clamped his eyes shut. His jaw tightened as he stared into the night ahead.

I sat in complete shock for a moment, searching for the right response. I spit it back at him when I found it, “Fuck you.”

I turned in my seat and stared out the window. The night had swallowed the countryside whole. The lights of passing cars blurred as we passed them, the only break in the monotonous void. I couldn’t even see the stars. My throat felt raw. When I swallowed, it constricted on the tears trying to work their way to my eyes. But the last thing I would do is let Holden Byrd see me cry.

I’d nearly fallen for his charm this afternoon. I supposed it was a kindness that he’d shown his cruelty before I became a victim of it. But it wasn’t the harsh rejection that had hurt, it was watching the man I’d seen glimpses of this afternoon vanish. Where was the Holden that knew an encyclopedia’s worth of Brontë sister trivia? Where was the man who carried a sketchbook in his pocket and looked longingly at the moors? How could one person have two such totally different sides?

“You remind me of her.” His quiet words shattered the silence, but I didn’t look at him. “I think that’s why…”

I wanted to press him to finish the sentence, but caring about what Holden thought would only destroy me. I’d gotten off easily. When he’d asked for twenty-fours, I’d fully expected to spend them in his bed. Somehow that would have been easier. Transactional. I’d already sold my virginity to win Spencer in Kerrigan’s name. Sleeping with his twin would only ensure my end of the bargain with Tod Belmond. It was harder to like Holden. It was harder to be disappointed in him. It hurt more.

I don’t know if five minutes passed or twenty. I couldn’t find the right words to respond until the lights of Hensley appeared on the horizon. “I’m nothing like her.”

Holden didn’t respond and the last few minutes stretched like a wire between us being pulled in opposite directions. When we finally pulled into the drive of Hensley House, I wanted to run inside and lock the door behind me. But I’d made a deal with him. I glanced at the clock and sighed with relief.

“Five more minutes,” I warned him, and then we could stop pretending to be civil to one another. “Want to get in a few final shots?”

Holden’s head fell and he exhaled. He turned to face me with a tight smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.” I already had one hand on the door handle. If we drew this out, I’d be free of him by the time we got inside.

“No, really,” he said firmly. His hand reached for mine, and I resisted the urge to draw mine away. I regretted it the instant our skin touched. A burst of electricity sang through me. I forced myself to stay still, not wanting him to see how it affected me. But even in the dark Holden’s eyes flamed as if he felt it, too. “I’m angry with myself, and I took it out on you and that’s not okay.”

“How self-aware of you.” I shook my hand free. “I’m not just some object for you or your brother to play with!” But wasn’t I exactly that? A toy bought for the express purpose of entertaining Spencer Byrd until his investment piece was finished?

“I don’t think of you that way.”

“You called me a hand-me-down,” I reminded him, my voice cracking.

“Because…” He took a deep breath and plunged forward, “Because I hate him for having you. I hate that he deserves you like you’re some prize.”

“Prize?” I repeated in a strangled voice.

“You’re misunderstanding me,” he said quickly. “I meant that they’re giving you to him like that. You are a prize.” He looked at my face and backpedaled again. “But definitely not an object or a toy!”

I glared at him in stony silence while he continued to elucidate the ways in which I was both irresistible but not an object until something strange bubbled inside me. Before I could stop it, laughter spilled out of me. Holden paused mid-sentence and stared.

“You...really...did…” I struggled to speak because I was giggling so hard. “...take...Women’s Studies.”

Holden’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head, but even he began to grin. He glanced at the dash. “One minute and you’re free of me.”

I took a deep breath, my cheeks hurting from the laughter. “Any last requests?”

“Just one.” His body shifted, shortening the distance between us. “I want to kiss you.”

“You’ve kissed me before,” I said, trying to act unperturbed as my hands grew slick.

“I want to kiss you. Not you pretending to be someone else. You. Not the woman pretending to be engaged to my brother. You.”

His words stole my breath. I felt pinned to the seat under his heady gaze, and all I could manage was a soft, “Your rules.”

Holden brushed the back of his hand down my cheek and cupped my chin. His head angled as he lifted my face to meet his. There was a moment of hesitation that seemed to last an eternity before his mouth crushed softly to mine. There was no urgency or demand. It was as if we’d both traveled a long way and stumbled upon each other somewhere in the middle. There was no rush as my lips parted to his and the kiss deepened. My arms circled his neck and I wove my fingers into his hair, dimly aware that each second brought us closer to farewell. When Holden moved to draw away, I caught his lower lip between my teeth and forced him back to me.

I didn’t care if the minute was up along with our excuses. I could only think of him. The energy between us shifted. Holden’s hand slipped to the back of my neck and tightened there. My body fought against the seat belt and I dropped a hand trying to find the buckle blindly. Holden found it first and released me. I tried to crawl into his lap, only to be thwarted by the center console.

Holden broke away, breathless, his eyes wild. Before I could stop panting, he was out of the car and around it. The passenger door flew open and he lifted me from the seat. My legs circled his waist as I pressed my needy center against his groin, grinding against his hardening cock. We crashed into one another in a tangle of limbs and tongues.

This is wrong.