Page 115 of Hold Me Today

Severing our connection, her hands come up and she shakes her head. “But there’s a difference between liking someone you think you know and lovingsomeone who matches you in every way.” She snaps her gaze up to mine. “Youmatch me, Nick, like no one else. And I’m so sorry for letting lifelong insecurities get in the way of us. I let three little words, that have always come with conditions, influence my reaction. I’ll never forgive myself for letting you think, even for one second, that I don’t adore you. That I don’t wake up every morning and wonder if I’ll see you or if you’ll make fun of me for having pom-poms on my snow boots.”

“Koukla,” I rasp, emotion clogging my throat, “I’m gonna be makin’ fun of those pom-poms of yours until we’re old and gray.”

“I hope that’s a promise.”

For the first time in my life, words fail me. I stand there, mute, my heart on a platter—and she knows it.

“Hold on,” she whispers, leaning over the back of the sofa to reach for something. My gaze unapologetically slips down to her heart-shaped ass in those baggy sweats before meandering north again in time to see her pulling an object out of her purse. If I’m not mistaken, it’s antler bone. The frame is sleek, not bulky, and then she grazes her finger over the back end and a blade pops free. A small, shy smile curls her mouth. “I bought this at the outdoor store in Bethel when you went to the bathroom. The owner told me this one is the best for whittling wood, and I . . .” She snaps the blade shut. Then, with hesitation gripping her features, she hands me the pocketknife, handle first. “I wanted you to think of me while you worked.”

Heart racing, I study the face I’ve known for years—this woman, my sister’s best friend, who can obliterate every wall just by saying my name. I skim my thumb over the inlay of the whittling knife. It’s a stunning piece of work with detailed carvings bordering each side of the silver blade. The fact that it was Mina who thought to get it for me? “I love it,koukla. Thank you.” I squeeze it once, feeling the weight and texture of the bone, before slipping it into my jeans. “It’s my turn now.”

Her nod is clipped.

Christ, man, donotcry.

I summon up every bit of self-control that I’ve got in the reserves. “I’m gonna put this as eloquently as possible—I’ve never been one for pigeonholing people, Ermione. I don’t give a fuck if you’re all Greek or half-Greek, if you speak the language fluently or only know how to properly curse me out.” Eliminating the last remaining inches between us, I spear my hands through her wild hair. I love that it’s untamed and curly and impulsive today. Tipping her head back, my hands cupping the base of her skull, I meet her gaze. “Those things make up one small part of who you are, but they aren’t what make me stop in my tracks and know that I’m one lucky son of a gun.”

Closing my eyes, I brush my mouth over her forehead. “I love how you go for what you want at full-speed. I love that you’ve got dreams—big dreams—and you reach for them with all that you are.” I kiss my way down to her cheek, then over to the shell of her ear, which I nip gently. “But, selfishly, I love that you make me feelalive. You challenge me. You push me to step out of my shell when I’ve spent years keepin’ everyone at arm’s length.” My mouth glides to the right, to hover over hers, and I flick my gaze up to look her in the eye. “I’m done playing at temporary longings,agape mou. I wantyou, in my life, by my side, in my bed—and I’m gonna push a hard bargain, Mina, because I want you forever.”

A fat tear rolls down her cheek that I catch with the pad of my thumb. “S’agapo,” I confess roughly, “and you can take all the time you need to say it back—”

Mina hooks her hands at the base of my neck and yanks me down, my mouth colliding with hers. She kisses me the way she lives her life: bold, reckless, impulsive. Her tongue tangles with mine. Her fingers, rebels that they are, reach down to hook into the loops of my jeans. Her hold on me keeps her steady on her toes, especially when she tears away, panting heavily, and gifts me with the brightest smile I’ve ever seen. “I love you, too, Nick. And thank you.”

My hands palm the curve of her ass. “For what?”

That smile of hers wavers, a show of sweet vulnerability, and then she whispers, “For making me feel like I’m finally home.”

Ah,gamóto.

I crane my neck back, staring up at the ceiling, and do my fair share of blinking.

“Are youcrying?”Mina demands, tugging on my shirt.

“Óxi.”Fuck, man, make them disappear.I squeeze my eyes shut, then press my tongue to the roof of my mouth—only for gentle hands to clasp either side of my face and make me look down, so that all I see is her.

“You’re such a romantic, Nick.” Though her tone is teasing, she uses the fabric of her sleeves to press to my closed lids. I feel her rise up on her tiptoes before soft lips kiss the underside of my jaw. “S’agapo. You can cry all you want and that’s not gonna change. I know you’re a man’s man deep down inside.”

I laugh, the sound gruff. She’s busting my balls again, and I wouldn’t change a damn thing about it. Hauling her up against me, my hands cupping her ass, I crash my mouth down over hers. The kiss is frantic, needy, and she gasps against my mouth as I stalk her backward until the backs of her thighs are colliding with the sofa and I’m lifting her up, propping her on top of it, and spreading her legs so I step in close. Her fingers push at my sweatshirt, tugging it off and—fuck, yes.

The fabric goes beneath her ass. “So Effie won’t kill us if we get messy,” I mutter, reining in laughter when Mina’s eyes fly to meet mine.

“She’ll kill us anyway.”

“Payback,” I mutter against the column of her throat, peppering her with light kisses. “For that one time I went to see Sarah at her office and found her and my sister hooking up.”

Mina’s throaty laughter sends a shiver curling down my spine. She hooks her legs around my waist, squeezing tightly. “Camping trip, 2015. I woke up in the same tent as them, only to hear noises that I wouldkillto forget.”

“Sex noises?”

“Oh, yeah.”

The heel of my palm gently collides with her shoulder, tipping her weight until she’s falling onto the cushions themselves. She giggles—giggles—at my foul play as I hop over the back of the sofa, but it doesn’t stop her hands from fumbling with the button of my jeans as soon as I crawl over her. Dipping low, I kiss the underside of her jaw. “It’s only right that we break the house rules.”

“Nick Stamos breaking rules?” Her hands come down to help me push my jeans down the length of my legs. “What’s the world coming to?”

I drop to my haunches on the floor, then swiftly strip off her sweats. “I fell in love, Ermione.” I kiss her inner thigh. Sweep my nose along the tendon leading to the apex of her legs. “And I’m only willing to break the rules with you.”

Her choked laughter only precedes her gripping my hair, keeping my face between her legs. “We’re totally going to be cleaning up the couch when we’re done, aren’t we?”

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