Page 43 of Tangled in Vows

I lower my gaze, caught off guard by our intertwined fingers. His much larger hand swallows mine, and I’m strangely fascinated by the sight. I’m forcefully yanked out of my thoughts when cool night air hits my clammy skin, and Holden lets go of my hand so I can climb into the SUV.

Jax steers us away from the alley and into busier streets. It will take us at least half an hour to get home, so I lean my head back and close my eyes. Anything to escape Holden and my embarrassment. Just for a minute.

The next thing I feel is strong hands banding around my legs and back, hauling me against solid warmth. I snuggle closer into the embrace, breathing in the familiar spicy scent, followed by a loud sigh. “You still smell the same.”

Something rumbles under me, but I’m too tired to open my eyes.

“Is that good or bad?” Holden asks.

His voice penetrates my sleepiness, and I manage to crack open an eye. Bright lights meet me. Elevator lights. My apartment elevator. A ding announces the arrival on my floor, and Holden steps out with me.

He walks to my door with me cradled to his chest and says, “Thanks,” to someone.

“No problem, boss. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jax replies.

Jax? I didn’t realize he was still with us. I hold back a groan, realizing he must have been with us in the elevator too.

All while Holden’s carrying my big ass.

My brain fires up for a moment. “Let me down, I’m too heavy.”

He snorts. “You’re a lightweight, Hurricane.”

I know I’m not anywhere near a lightweight with all my extra pounds, but I’m too exhausted to argue. Plus, his breathing does seem pretty even.

Since Stormy is with my neighbor, Susanne, our breaths and Holden’s footsteps are the only sounds. He maneuvers us through the condo and into my bedroom, where he gently lowers me onto the thick comforter of my bed.

Instead of moving away, his face hovers inches from mine. “You didn’t answer my question.”

His full lips move, his beautiful brown eyes boring into mine.

What would it feel like to kiss him?

I hate that the question still occupies my brain, despite his rejection at the club.

“Hurricane.” My nickname leaves his throat in a low growl.

A warning. One I’m not sure I’m in the right mind to heed with the remainder of the alcohol still rushing through my veins.

I clearly overshot my limit by more than I thought, or why else would I blink at him and say, “Yes, Holden?” in the most innocent voice I can muster?

He closes his eyes, probably to reconsider some life choices. Because same.

His hands flex around me, renewing the desire in my body.

I bite my lip to keep the moan at bay that is wandering up my throat.

Holden leans closer, and I’m holding my breath.

Is this really happening?

I close my eyes, waiting for his mouth to touch mine. Wanting him to do so desperately.

His lips press against my forehead. “Have a good sleep, Hurricane.”

Tears prick my eyes as he draws his hands out from underneath me.

Only once my bedroom door clicks shut do I open my eyes again and expel an agonized whoosh of air.

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