Page 95 of Our Little Cliche
He grins, laughing so deeply that it’s almost sinister. “So fucking much that I’d gladly fuck you right here, right now until your legs grow numb and you can’t even leave to go back outthere,” he says, then reaches his hand to the small of my back, pulling me closer. “But to answer your question on a deeper level, I want you with a greater need than a fish needs water. Than the stars need the sun to shine. And more than I need air to live and breathe.”
Jesus.
I open my mouth to speak but his thumb crosses over my lips, muting me. My heart skips a beat as the pads of his fingertips curl into the nape of my neck, tilting my head to open the bare space of empty neck for him. He plants a delicate kiss there, right on one of the creases.
“Holly. Angel.My love. I want you in all of the ways you let me.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
CYRUS
“Now,shoo. Get out, you. Go check the coast is clear,” Holly demands, shooing me away.
“But—”
“No buts. Out.”
“Okay, okay.Madam,” I mock, bowing. Peeking through the door, the passageway is clear, and when I step out I peer over the bobbing heads of those in close proximity, seeing that everyone is as they were moments ago: dancing, drinking, laughing, and mingling. All without a slither of suspicion on Holly’s or my disappearance. “Wait for a few seconds, then go to the bar and order a drink. If you go back empty handed they might suspect something.”
I return to my seat, only to be confronted so suddenly by a snarling looking Renee. My stomach churns.Crap, here comes the investigations.“Where did Holly?—”
“So… how’s that book coming along?” I cut her off with haste, not wanting to draw attention to our disappearance. Annoyed, she answers the question.
“Good. I’ve almost finished two rounds of editing. I was actually looking for Holly, do you know where she is? SinceQuinn hasn’t bothered looking for another editor to fill in for Graham yet other than Holly I need someone to do my books. If I can steal her away from thestar of the showthat is.”
“I’m sure Holly would love that. After she’s finished with mine, of course,”
“Oh, yes, your new book. Your last was a great success, this one will be no different.” Her tone reeks of jealousy, and I know why: I’m lined up for New York Times Bestseller, and she’s not. Not that I’m bragging about it or anything. I don’t rub my success in people’s faces.
“Thank you, Ren.”I guess.I’ve always felt guilty for stealing the limelight. Renee has been published with Quinn and Riverton House for far longer than I have. But I’ve worked hard to be where I am now.
“So… you’re not ready for edits, yet?”
“No, but?—”
“Okay, good. I’ll ask Holly when I see her.”
“Ask me what?” Holly enters the conversation with a cocktail in hand andstill flushed cheeksfrom our earlier encounter.
“There you are. I’ve been wondering where you were, not that I left my spot to go looking. These drinks have gone straight to my head,” Renee says. “Hmm, speaking of… is that an espresso martini?”
Holly grins, her eyes sparkle with joy. The glass is almost as big as her face as she slurps the foam from the rip of her glass, leaving behind a creamy mustache on her lips. “Yep!”
“That looks delicious.”
“It really is.”
Oh, boy. That’s not going to end well, I think to myself, knowing that she’s going to end up stumbling in moments to come. She’s got two left feet sober as it is, let alone after a few beverages.Such a clumsy thing. How am I going to look after her with all these people around to see?
“You’re going to drinkallof that?” My tone is unintentionally rich with possessiveness. Holly’s eyes widen, much like mine, then Renee fixes me awhere the fuck did that come fromglare, enticing a gulp to swallow down the lump in my throat.Crap. Way to go, genius.
“You’re probably right,” she breaks through the tight silence. “I’ve had too much already, I’ll make a mess of myself if I finish this.” She taps her glass, spinning around to walk away. “I’ll be back… again.”
After a split second Renee pins me down by the eyes. “Alright, enough with the funny business.”
Shit.
“What…?”
