Page 95 of Tangled in Vows

I mumble a quiet, “Thank you.”

The two men share a prolonged look, then Archer tilts his chin up. “Go before you get sick. I’ll make dinner.”

Holden rasps, “Thanks, Arch,” as his friend coos at Stormy with the towel in front of him, “Where’s my favorite girl?”

Holden turns to me with the softest smile I’ve ever seen on his face. “Ready to get soaked some more?”

I sigh and stare at the sky. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

We walk under the patio roof until it ends, then sprint the rest of the way to the side entrance. The cold rain pelts down on us while Holden enters the code with stiff fingers and yanks it open.

The door shuts with a loud click behind us, absorbing most of the outside noise. We stand across from each other in complete silence, both of us absorbing this shift between us.

A snort escapes me. “We look like drowned rats.”

Holden huffs a breath. “I might, but you look beautiful.”

An involuntary shiver runs through me, and Holden scans around the room until he spots the stack of gray towels on the bench to our right. Archer definitely deserves a gold star for this.

Grabbing a couple of them, Holden hands me one. “We gotta get you warmed up.”

I nod and run the towel over my hair. “I think my hoodie has soaked up about a hundred gallons of water. It’ll be a pain to take it off.”

“Do you want me to help?”

My breath hitches, and my hands still, the towel hiding my face from him.

Do I want him to help me take off my hoodie?

My heart is racing so loudly at the sheer thought, I’m sure he can hear it.

Now that he bared himself to you, there’s nothing left between you. You need to give him something. Anything.

You know you want to. You know you wanthim.

Another shiver rolls down my spine, this time not from the cold but from the thought of his hands on me.

On a deep inhale, I nod. “Could you?”

His only reaction is the bobbing of his throat when he swallows loudly. Taking a step toward me, he says, “Arms up.”

I put the towel on the bench and lift my arms above my head. Holden grips a fistful of my sweatshirt on either side and lifts it up. Slowly. Painfully. His hands brush along the sides of my rib cage, and I gasp.

A strange mixture of anticipation and disbelief bubbles in my chest, and I press my lips together to keep quiet.

The sweatshirt moves up my neck, hiding my face as he raises it farther. Once it passes my mouth, Holden pauses for a nanosecond.

What is he doing? Is he staring at me?

Every nerve in my body wakes at the thought, my skin feeling alive, buzzing with an overwhelming need that threatens to buckle my knees if I don’t do anything.

I wiggle, unable to stay unmoving for a second longer.

Holden gets the hint and pulls the sweatshirt up the rest of the way, tossing it into the empty laundry basket a few feet away.

I blow out a breath. “Phew. Much better, thank you.”

Holden’s gaze drops to the tank top I’m wearing. The one that’s turned into a second skin and is pretty much invisible at this point. My nipples greet him too, because I forgot I had taken off my bra earlier.

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