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“How did you know about the apartment?”
My panic has me opening the fridge for no reason at all. “Huh?”
I can feel his eyes on the back of my head. “I didn’t know about the apartment untilafteryou left, so… how do you know about it?”
I swallow.Hard. “I just assumed,” I lie. “I mean… with the whole Joseph and your mom thing, and the truck and…” andfuck, fuck, fuck.
He’s quiet a long moment. Then, finally, he says, “Makes sense.” I release the breath I’d been holding, and the chopping begins again. “You think we should set up inside or outside?”
“Outside.” I slowly turn to him. “For sure.”
“I should’ve known you’d say that.” He points the knife to the opposite side of the counter. “There’s some picnic stuff in the cupboard underneath if you want to set up.”
I hide my smile as I move around him, find what I need, and make my way outside. It’s only when I’ve spread the blanket out a few feet from his front door that I let my grin come full force. The thought of sitting down and having a decent conversation with him eases a longing I’ve held on to for way too long. I’ve wished for a moment like this, just the two of us, so that we can talk. So he can tell me everything he’s done the past five years, and maybe—if he wants me to—I can do the same.
I set up the plastic setting for two and grab some flowers from the garden to put in one of the clear glasses. I place it in the middle of the blanket and stand, my smile getting wider when I take in my work. With a skip in my step, I make my way back inside and stop right beside him. “What else can I help with?” I ask, bouncing on my toes.
He freezes mid-movement, his eyes sparking with an emotion I can’t quite decipher. He drops the knife and moves close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off of him, see the way his t-shirt stretches across his broad chest with every inhale, every exhale.
I keep my eyes on his, hoping he doesn’t notice my struggle for air, especially when he reaches up, his fingers shifting the loose strands of hair from my face to behind my ear. My eyes drift shut when the warmth of his palm floats along my jaw. He whispers my name as his forehead meets mine, his hands gentle on my hips, and the only thing I can think to say is, “What are you doing?”
His cheek brushes my temple when he moves his mouth to my ear. “What do youwantme to do?”
I stutter a breath, open my eyes to his. “What doyouwant to do?”
“Kiss you.” His rough hands move from my waist, up my back, below my top, stopping at my nape. He gently squeezes there, holding me in place, and I can hear each one of my shallow breaths passing my lips, making my mouth dry. “But if I kiss you,” he murmurs, “we both know I won’t be able to stop there. I’ll have to taste you,fuck you. Is that whatyouwant?”
Before I can answer, my phone rings, vibrating on the counter right beside me. I know who it is by the ringtone, but Holden... his gaze drops to the phone, and I can see the moment it registers for him. “Answer it,” he demands, stepping closer, blocking me in, and keeping me in my place.
His hardness presses to my stomach—proving I’m not the only one lost in our lust, our desire. “No.”
He drops his hand from the back of my neck and taps my phone, putting an end to the ringing. Just when I think he’s declined the call, Dean’s voice blasts through the air, splitting the tension between us. “Hey, Jamie.”
Before I can answer, Holden is kissing me. And it’s not forceful, or commanding. It’s soft, and it’s gentle—like his hands on my face—and when our tongues meet, a quiet moan moves from his lips to mine. He drops a hand, moving it lower down my body, between my breasts, to my bare stomach, and I instinctively shift my hips forward while I bite down on his lip, eliciting another groan. He finds the throbbing spot between my legs, runs a single finger along my slit.
“Jamie? You there?” Dean says, and I come up for air, forcing Holden to move his kisses to my neck, biting, licking.
“Spread ’em,” Holden murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. I do as he asks, my arms around his neck as he slips a hand down the front of my shorts.
“Jamie!” Dean calls again, and Holdenstops. Every muscle in his body tenses for just a moment before he releases me completely, putting an end to our madness. He takes a step back, shoving a hand down his shorts to adjust himself, and before I can even register what the fuck is happening, the front door bursts open.
“Hey, Jamie!” Brianna sings, sauntering toward us in nothing but a sports bra and tight shorts.
My mouth parts, but any words I have die in my chest. I grab my phone, hang up on Dean while Holden opens the oven and drags out the tray. He places it carefully on the counter, saying, “Perfect timing.”
Brianna’s on the opposite side of the counter now, and she leans over, inspects the food. “Is that the vegan lasagna recipe I gave you?”
“Sure is,” Holden answers, and even though I’m blinded by betrayal, I still manage to see them lean across the counter and kiss.
“You’re so sweet,” Brianna says, and I almost laugh at the thought. Holden? Sweet? My chest tightens at the realization that she’s right. Holdenissweet. When he loves you, when he adores you and wants to please you, Holden can be the single man to hang the moon.
“Are you joining us for lunch?” Brianna asks me, and I turn away, hoping they don’t notice my effort to blink back the tears, fight back the heartache.
“No…” I all but whisper. I clear the ache in my chest. “I was—”
Apparently, Holden speaks for me now. “Jamie helped set up a picnic outside.”
“Awe, thank you.” Sweet,naïveBrianna.
