Page 13 of Tracing Holland (The Hold Me NSB #2)

She pulls off her top and starts slipping out of her shorts, exposing a body that makes my mouth go dry.

I can’t stop staring, any earlier reservation completely gone.

As soon as she started moving, so did Wes, and he’s in the water on his way to the group before she even finishes dropping her shorts and tank a safe distance from the water’s edge.

I still haven’t budged by the time she returns, and she gives me an annoyed look.

“You’re still dressed!” she whines, hands on her hips.

I laugh. “You go. I’ll guard our stuff.”

She glares at me, making it clear that’s not going to work for her.

“Not a chance.”

She grabs the hem of my shirt and starts pulling it up my chest.

“Hey! What are you doing?” I cry.

“Stripping you so you have fun for five seconds.”

Shocked, amused, and completely turned on, I stop resisting and let her yank it over my head.

The humor fades as she stills, inches away, our bodies close, but totally off-limits to each other.

She’s at the right angle that I can see her eyes through her sunglasses now, tracking every detail of my form, and I’m sure I hear her suck in her breath a bit.

“My god,” she whispers. “Seriously?” She searches my eyes and I can sense every ounce of her sudden fascination.

My blood pounds, my heart racing. She wants to touch me.

It’s all over her face, her body language.

She even glances at the others, testing her limits, and I follow her gaze.

I’m sure I feel the same pain of frustration she does at their attention.

We’re on stage.

She lets out an awkward laugh and takes my hand instead, pulling me toward the waves as if nothing had happened.

I have to force a smile to hide the volcano erupting inside me, and nearly wince as we step into the surf.

The water may have been warm for ocean water, but it feels like ice against my burning skin.

The others laugh and splash in the distance, but my gaze is glued to Holland.

I love everything about the joy on her face as she joins in the fun.

The fact that someone so deep and introspective is also able to let go so completely.

It’s captivating, magnetizing. I’ve never been able to do that, not without the assistance of substances that could totally abduct my brain and mask my consciousness.

I don’t regret getting sober for a second, but I do miss those moments of stepping outside my own saturated existence. It gets exhausting being me.

“Luke, get over here!” Holland yells.

“Yeah, come on, grumpy!’ Callie echoes, and I roll my eyes.

“Ok, I’m coming,” I concede, fighting the small waves as they crash against my knees.

I have to jump to avoid being slapped in the face by a few more, but finally reach the three of them hovering a few feet beyond the breaking point.

The rest of our group is a hundred yards away, diving into the ripples, and I understand their position much better when I notice a cluster of bikini-clad women setting up nearby at the water’s edge.

It’s only a matter of time before that party happens.

“Wow, they’re pretty hot.”

The voice startles me, and I almost jump at the intrusion.

“Huh?”

“Those girls.”

“Oh, what? No,” I say, shaking my head and focusing back on Holland. She’s grinning, so I know she’s just teasing me. “Not my type,” I add, not sure why.

“Hot girls in bikinis aren’t your type?”

“Not unless they’re just as hot when they open their mouths.”

She laughs. “How can you tell they’re not your type then?”

She’s close now, way closer than she needs to be.

I can feel the heat of her body, the intentional contact that can still be disguised as an accident as she pretends to squint at the gathering on the beach.

It’s messing with my head again, not that I would have known how to answer her question anyway.

I just know from experience and that’s not a conversation we need to have right now. Or ever.

“I don’t know. Just my gut. They picked that spot to be noticed. They’ve been studying our boys just as much as our guys are checking them out. There’s nothing wrong with the game, it’s just not my thing.”

“Really? Your reputation says otherwise.” Surprised, I glance over at her, and she shrugs. “What? Am I wrong?”

I stiffen a bit, annoyed at her bluntness, at myself for making her right in the first place. “About my reputation? No. About me? Maybe.”

“You don’t even know what I think about you yet, so how do you know?”

“I know you think I’m hot,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood. She laughs and shoves me a bit. The playful contact is enough for my body to react again. Shit. I’m just glad the water is past my waist.

“Everyone thinks you’re hot. That shouldn’t even count as an observation.” She quiets. “What I didn’t know was that you were also a little shy, kinda sweet, and so damn intelligent.”

“Careful. You’re going to ruin my reputation as a badass.”

She grins. “Don’t worry. I think your bad reputation is safe.”

I smile and shake my head. “I said badass, not bad.”

She returns it. “I know.” She grows serious. “I also learned you’re a hard person to avoid. Way harder than I thought.”

I glance at her. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs and stares off at the other group again, but I caught her revealing gaze before it fled.

“I don’t know how to explain it exactly.

” She stops and shakes her head. “Let’s just let that one go, ok?

” she pleads, and I’m disappointed I have to accept when Wes spots us and breaks up the conversation anyway.

Holland and I don’t get another moment alone on the beach, and we’ve barely even exchanged complete sentences with each other by the time we return to the hotel to clean up for dinner.

No one else seems to notice the change in our silence, no one except Wes.

I can’t help but observe how he seemed to be a constant presence for the rest of the day, always the third wheel, the barrier separating us from any chance of exploring whatever that was by the water’s edge, her cryptic comments later on.

Part of me is disappointed, but another part is strangely relieved.

These feelings for Holland are confusing at best, and I’m having a terrible time converting them into a reality I can process.

Better to make the entire issue a non-starter.

I’m very comfortable with my plan to try to avoid her for the rest of the tour when she catches my arm just as the others disappear around the corner of the hall to their respective rooms.

“Hey, um, do you have a sec?” she says. “Can we talk?”

I swallow. “Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

She glances around. “Not here. Maybe in your room or mine?”

My heart races, blood pounding violently. The memories of her wet body close to mine is ravaging my brain. Her eyes as they scanned me with that hunger for possession. Even I’m not that stupid.

“Holland, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say quietly.

Our eyes meet and she knows exactly what I mean. I can tell she feels it too as she bites her lip and studies me again with a troubling intensity. It makes everything so much worse.

“No, I know. You’re right.” She seems frustrated and grows quiet for a second. “Come out with me then,” she offers.

I stare at her. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Let’s go do something.” Suddenly, her face lights up. “Let’s play mini golf! I haven’t done that in fifteen years!”

I laugh. I can’t help it. “Mini golf? Are you serious?”

She shrugs. “Why not? You’re too much of a badass to slap a tiny ball around a pirate ship?”

I grin and shake my head. I have no chance against that challenge. “You are serious. Crap. Ok, fine. But I have to warn you, I don’t think I’ve ever actually played mini golf.”

“What?” she cries. “Never? That’s so wrong! Ok, you’re coming. Let’s go.”

“Right now?” I laugh.

“Yes, right now!”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

She shrugs. “We’ll grab a hot dog or something from the snack bar. Quit whining and walk, rockstar.”

She practically pushes me back to the elevator, and I’m still in disbelief that this girl is getting me to agree to a game that involves golf clubs and pirates.

“You don’t even want to change first?”

“Change? What’s wrong with my outfit? You don’t like it?” she teases.

I roll my eyes. She knows full well how good she looks. “I love your outfit, I just know you women. You have outfits for everything. I can’t believe your beach outfit is the same as your golf outfit.”

“Ok, first of all. It’s mini golf, not golf. There is a huge difference which drastically affects the dress code.”

I grin, loving how she can match me at every turn. “Ok, fine. And second?”

“And second, you can just toss everything you think you know about ‘women’ out the window. It’s time someone exposes you to the big secret.” She stops and glances around before leaning close. “No two are alike,” she whispers.

I offer a shy smile. “Fair enough. I’m sorry.”

She’s clearly not offended, just being gently honest, and grabs my hand as the elevator doors open back to the lobby. “Let’s walk. It’s not far.”

I like that idea as well, and I’m surprised when she doesn’t let go of my hand. Instead, she laces her fingers with mine and falls into a casual stride beside me, as if this is just another walk in our long history of walks. It’s almost surreal how effortlessly she fits into my universe.

I want to call her out on her recent behavior, which is completely at odds with her earlier warnings, but her hand feels so good in mine. I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense. I need it there at the moment and can’t risk losing my grip.

“I’m sorry about Wes,” she begins as we move out of the hotel complex and onto the sidewalk toward Highway 17.

“What about him?”

She shrugs. “He’s being difficult. He’s protective, you know?”

“I can see that.”