Page 21

Eleven

ANDREA

His body heat was absolutely amazing. Come to think of it, so was his body.

I’d been too cold to argue, standing there in a loose pair of Randall’s sweatpants and a 40-year old promotional T-shirt. The dream was still fresh in my mind. My whole body, shaking.

Holden had led me by the hand, up a trio of wooden steps, and into the boxing ring. He’d even held the ropes open for me, like some up-and-coming contender. Stepping silently past Randall’s mattress, he tucked me into his bed and slipped right alongside me.

Mmmmmm…

I couldn’t help but spoon back against him, as he threw one strong arm over my body. His muscles tightened as he cinched it around my waist. I could feel us flesh to flesh, where my sweatpants had already started slipping down.

“You okay?”

I nodded and squirmed back into him, hyper-aware of my ass grinding against his crotch. It felt sooo good! So totally perfect.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get him last night,” he whispered into my hair. The arm around my waist went a centimeter tighter. “But don’t worry. We will.”

His voice was deeply masculine. Unintentionally sexual. Or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. It was hard to know.

“Can I tell you something?”

He was stroking my hair now, pulling it gently back over my ear. I nodded silently.

“That kiss tonight…” he said softly. “That wasn’t fake.”

All the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at once. I grinded my ass backward a little more, telling myself it was only to steal his warmth. But I was already plenty warm.

“I wanted it,” said Holden. “I needed it, actually.”

His lips were just inches from my ear.

“And I totally fucking loved it, too.”

The emphasis on the word was wholly intenti

onal. It came with a distinct bump, a surge of his hips. I could feel a bulge forming there now, between his legs. Growing slowly…

I blinked, looking straight ahead. My eyes had readjusted to the darkness, when suddenly I realized something.

“Randall!” I gasped, raising my head to look at his mattress. “He’s not there!”

Holden only squeezed me tighter. “I know.”

“W—Where is he?”

“Who knows?” lamented Holden. “He does that often. Randall is restless, always moving, always doing something. He roams.” I felt him shrug his big shoulders. “Half the time I wake up he’s not there. I don’t even ask questions anymore.” His body swelled as he heaved a big, beautiful sigh. “Don’t worry about it. He always comes back.”

I settled back down, only this time I twisted into him. We were face to face now. Nose to nose in the semi-darkness.

“Okay,” I smiled. “Holden?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He smiled back, rather than answer. One of my hands found his, beneath the blankets. Our fingers intertwined.