Page 21

MERIT

My boyfriend’s parents are driving me home from the football game.

Yep.

I’m twenty-eight and doing something a high school sophomore would do.

And boyfriend ? That’s a new development. Very new and something we didn’t even discuss. After the game, Holt just introduced me to the opposing coach as his girlfriend.

I should be scared. Hell, I should be terrified. But I’m not. When he said it, my stomach fluttered, and a warm heat ballooned in my heart.

I’m listening to Ray and Teresa talk about buying new flowers for their back porch when my phone dings with an incoming text.

Holt: You’ll get home earlier than me. The bus is nearly back at school, but I have to wait for all the kids to get picked up. My parents can let you in the house. Wait for me?

I smile, typing out a teasing response.

Me: I should really get home. Tomorrow is the monthly 20% off sale. It’ll be a busy day. I’ll just see you later?

I doubt he’s even had a chance to read the whole text message before he’s calling me. I’m chuckling under my breath when I answer. I don’t even say hello. “I was kidding.”

The celebration and noise on the bus drowns him out. “You were kidding?”

“Yes. Of course, I’ll wait for you.”

I literally hear him smiling across the line. “Good.”

When we pull up in Holt’s driveway, I just assume Ray and Teresa will come inside, but they don’t. Ray uses the keypad to open the door and disarm the house alarm while I put my rain jacket in my parked car. I was worried it was going to rain during the game, but fortunately, the skies cleared. After waving goodbye to his parents and thanking them for driving me to and from the out-of-town game, I meander my way through my boyfriend’s empty mansion.

***

“Hey.” Holt’s voice pours over my skin like melted butter. It takes me a minute to crawl off the couch. It’s so comfy I nearly fell asleep. “What are you doing just sitting here? You didn’t wanna turn on the TV?” His strong arms circle me.

I love the way Holt hugs me. His hugs are never quick; they’re long and sincere. His large, muscular hand massages the small of my back, and slowly travels up the length of my spine, settling on the nape of my neck. I lean back, looking into his eyes. The blue sparkles with the excitement of his win. His body is sticky with sweat. Even the curls peeking out from underneath his ballcap are damp.

“I was afraid to turn it on. What if I break it?” I look over his shoulder at the world’s biggest TV screen.

“You don’t need to worry about that, Mer. There’s nothing in this house that can’t be fixed if it breaks.”

He hasn’t let me go yet. My fingertips trace the veins in his forearms. “Speaking of the rest of the house, we never finished the tour. I wanna see the rest of it.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “You’ve been here by yourself for an hour. You didn’t snoop around?”

Trust me, I wanted to. I’m super curious, and just sitting around has been killing me. But with my luck, I would’ve broken some priceless Ming vase or some crap like that.

When I shake my head, he laughs. His voice is slightly hoarse from yelling on the sidelines. “I tell you what, I’m jumping in the shower. You snoop around all you want. I have nothing to hide.” He winks, planting a salty kiss on my mouth, leaving me standing in the middle of his living room as he takes the stairs two at a time.

I walk down the hall, peeking into the rooms as I pass. There’s a theater room with a huge movie screen and two rows of reclining seats. I smile much larger than a sane person would at the thought of watching old movies in there with Holt. Then, two large guest bedrooms with a massive bathroom between the two. There’s one last room, much smaller than all the others, in what looks like the ‘normal’ area of the house. Beyond that, there’s a small hallway. I can only assume that leads to the Children’s Wing. When I flip on the light switch in the last room, I have to take a step back to catch my breath.

Crystal and gold and silver and diamonds are everywhere.

And I mean…everywhere.

It’s a trophy room. With literal trophies.

There’s so much stuff stored in the small room it almost looks comical. Framed pictures, newspapers, and magazine covers adorn the walls. And everything in here has two things in common—it’s all about football and all about Holt. There are cheap plastic trophies from when he was younger. The older he got, the fancier the awards got. And then there’s a glass case filled with diamond and gold rings. The biggest ones, declaring him a Super Bowl winner. Two times over.

Most people would have this stuff on display in their living room or something. Someplace where anyone and everyone could see it. But Holt? It’s in a small, non-descript room, far out of the way.

I run my fingers over a magazine cover from one of his many college National Championship wins. The picture is so crisp, I can see the freckles on his nose.

Carefully shutting off the lights, I turn and walk down the darkened hallway to the isolated wing. My heart beats faster as I open the door at the end of the corridor. It feels like I’m doing something I shouldn’t be doing. But he gave me free rein. Free rein to look, and I can’t curb the desire to know more, see more.

This is where his cousins lived.

Ella, whom I’ve grown to like so very much over the past few weeks. With her honey-colored hair, extreme posture, and round belly. And who can forget the stolen glances she shares with her husband? It’s like the world is theirs, and the rest of us are just living in it out of the kindness of their hearts.

And Carrie, whom I will never meet.

The wing is bigger than my condo. There’s a small laundry room, an open kitchen and living room, and two bedrooms each with their own bath. One bedroom is decorated in pale blues and greens. The other in beige, dark brown, and bright coral. Lots of colors. I remember Holt saying that Ella required him to redecorate everything after buying the house, especially the Children’s Wing. From what I understand, it was nothing but creams and grays and whites—professionally decorated without a thought to it being children’s living quarters.

I think back to my own room growing up. My furniture was mismatched pieces Mom and Granny refurbished. And I think I changed the color of my bedspread every single year.

Instead of shutting the door, blocking the wing back off from the rest of the house, I leave it wide open. I make my way back to the living room and up the marble staircase. My flip flops pound against the polished stone, echoing through the house. The first room I come to upstairs is a large laundry room. The ironing board is standing in the middle of the floor, yet I can still spin around with my arms wide open and not knock it over. Now, that’s a big laundry room.

Two of the upstairs bedrooms share a bathroom. The third guest bedroom has its own bathroom. It’s a large bedroom, and I can tell right away that it’s a bedroom for the kids—Anna, Ty, and Laura. My heart melts a little at that realization. There’re two twin beds piled high with pink and purple comforters. In the corner, there’s a toddler bed on the floor with a superhero blanket on it. The bookshelves are filled with toys, books, and games. There’s even a white porch swing dangling from the ceiling, with another pile of books and notebooks stacked on its puffy cushion.

The last bedroom door is partially closed. By process of elimination, I know what’s behind that door, and it makes my mouth dry and my stomach fold in knots.

Holt’s bedroom.

My feet feel like weighted concrete as I take a step closer to his room. I glance to the side when I hear the telltale ping of an incoming text message and see his cell phone plugged in and charging on a side table. Leaning in that direction, I flip it over and check the home screen, wanting to make sure there’s not an emergency. What if something happened to Ray and Teresa on their drive home? The first line of a message blazes across a picture of him and Anna.

Nope. Not a text message…just an alert from some sort of sports app. I quickly flip the phone back over and close the distance between me and his bedroom.

His. Fucking. Bedroom.

I gently push against the door, trying not to push too hard because I don’t want to slam it against the wall. I take a step forward right at the same time Holt jerks the door open. I run slap dab into his chest.

“Whoops,” I say with a stumble. His arm darts out, catching me.

All of a sudden, I can’t breathe.

And it’s not because my funny bone hit the doorframe.

He’s standing in front of me, wearing nothing but low-slung gym shorts. Beads of water drip from his hair onto his chest and travel along the paths of his muscles, down his stomach. My eyes eagerly trace every drop…down, down, down. His love handles are indented, chiseled with years of exercise. More importantly, I don’t see the band of his boxer briefs.

I. Cannot. Breathe.

The thought that he’s naked underneath the gray shorts makes it hard to swallow. Hard to think. Hard to stay on my feet.

He smells like soap and toothpaste.

I’m ogling his body like I’ve never seen a man up close before. And I haven’t. Not a man like Holt. Edward, most assuredly, is not the same as this man before me.

Even the other night when we made out after our fight and I stripped the shirt from his body and scraped my teeth across his nipples, I didn’t have the opportunity to fully appreciate what he looks like. Every time I tried to pull away, he pulled me back in, acting like he couldn’t survive without his mouth on mine.

Without thinking, my fingers reach forward, wiping away a rivulet of water before it reaches his belly button.

My gaze is drawn up to his face the second he sucks a sharp hiss of air between his teeth. His eyes are dilated, nearly drowning the blue in black.

My heart stops beating.

“You finished the tour?” he asks.

I have to wet my lips to even get enough traction to talk. “Mmm-hmm. Yep. Saved the best room for last,” I say with a nod behind his shoulder.

“Well,” he steps to the side, giving me a wide berth. “Don’t let me stop you.”

I can’t believe I find the strength to cross the threshold, but I do. The room is very large. Should I expect anything less from this house? On one side of the room is a small sitting area—a plush loveseat and two chairs, with side tables and lamps. The king-size bed is made, but lacks the fluff and decoration of the other beds. It’s covered in some kind of fake fur comforter marbled with shades of black, gray, and white. There’s two nightstands, two armoires, a dresser, and a super big TV on the wall. A light shines behind the door in the corner. I’m guessing that leads to the bathroom.

I close my eyes, doing something that I know will get me into trouble.

I picture myself on the bed, writhing beneath the scorching heat of Holt’s touch.

As if on command, his hands grab my hips, and he nuzzles against the side of my face. I can feel the bulge of his erection pressing into my lower back. “Stay with me tonight,” his whisper is low and gravelly, and the essence of my wet dreams.

My swallow is audible. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have my stuff.”

His chuckle sends a shivered heat down my spine. “What stuff?”

“My toothbrush.”

“I have a whole bucket filled with toothbrushes. I save every free toothbrush the dentist gives me.”

Huh. Me too.

“Well,” I stammer, “I… I don’t have my shampoo and conditioner.”

“I have plenty. And if you don’t like what I have, the girls’ strawberry-scented kid’s shampoo is right next door.”

My brain churns, trying to think of another excuse, when all my body wants to do is strip him naked and lick him from top to bottom.

He spins me around, holding my face in his hands. “Stay with me.”

“I don’t want to.” My voice sounds so pathetic even I don’t believe it.

“Don’t lie, Merit.”

“Mmmm?”

“You wanna stay. It’s written all over your face.”

I nibble on my lip, not answering. I turn back around. Maybe if I turn around, I won’t have to confront the emotions swirling in my mind and body.

He drags my ponytail to the side and kisses the nape of my neck. “Tell me the truth,” he urges softly. The tenderness of his actions and my own need soak my panties even more.

“I wanna stay. But I don’t think we should have sex yet.”

“I’m okay with that.”

I twist my neck and kiss the stubble on his jaw. “You are?”

He chuckles again, nodding. “Yes. We have every day for the rest of our lives. There’s plenty of time.”

Oh, he shouldn’t say things like that. He shouldn’t promise me a lifetime of happiness unless he plans to deliver.

His lips kiss a slow path down my neck. It sends pure electricity coursing through me, from head to toe. His left hand finds my breast, eagerly teasing my nipple through the fabric of my shirt and bra. His breath hitches, and it’s like I can literally hear his hand shaking as it snakes down my stomach, down my pelvis. Cupping my groin, he firmly strokes the mound of my sex through my panties and shorts. Clothes be damned, he finds my clit right away and circles his thumb around it.

Holy shit. I want him.

His whisper is sticky and sweet. “But, how do you feel about heavy petting, baby?”

My voice is so loud it rivals a full-blown scream. “Oh god, I’m completely for it.”

Spinning around, I jump into his arms and crash my lips to his.