Page 94 of Valentine Nook
I start by brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Hey.”
“Sorry.” She sniffs, swiping her hand under her nose.
I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but I ask anyway. “Why are you crying?”
A fresh set of tears starts up, but through them, she laughs. “I don’t know.”
“Is it because of me? Have I made you cry? Because if I have?—”
“No.” She shakes her head. “No . . . you haven’t. No. Of course not.”
She’s so adamant with her response that I know I’m onto something. The tears definitely have to do with me, and I’m wracked with guilt.
“Holiday, you can tell me. Please tell me.”
She lets loose a big, long sigh. “It’s so dumb.”
“If it upset you, it’s not dumb.”
“Okay, but bear in mind I drank a bottle of champagne with Clemmie earlier,” she mumbles, teeth worrying at her bottom lip.
“Got it.”
Holiday’s face screws up tight before she drops it into her hands. “I thought you punched him because you’re still mad at him because you’re still in love with your ex.”
She says it so quickly, and her mouth is partially covered with her hands so it comes out a little garbled, but once I realize what she said—or rather theimplicationsof what she’s said—my anxiety vanishes.
She’s not looking at me, so she can’t see my struggle to hold on to the grin tugging at my mouth. I’m tempted to wait a little longer before putting her out of her misery because honestly, thisfeeling—that thisincrediblegirl standing in front of me might be jealous—is intoxicating.
“That’s not why I punched him,” I say eventually.
“No?”
“No.” I shake my head, easing apart her hands until her beautiful, tear-stained face comes into view, and I tuck a finger under her chin. “I punched him because he was talking to you.”
“What?” The tears have turned her eyes even bluer than normal, and a whole story of questions and emotions plays out in them before she settles on, “Really?”
“Yes. Really. I don’t care about him, and I’m definitely not still in love with Caroline. I’m beginning to wonder if I ever was. But seeing him next to you, looking at you, breathing the same air asyou, made me insane with rage. So I punched him.” I add a casual shrug, like it’s no big deal, because the way she’s looking at me makes my heart race enough that I need to take the edge off.
I catch the faint remains of pink shimmer on her lips as her mouth drops into a perfect oval.
“I’ve spent my entire life doing what’s expected of me. For once, I’m going to do what I want.”
She blinks. I see her breath catch, and the shift between us is seismic. I hold her gaze, blue on blue. The intensity between us builds as quickly and thickly as the air before a thunderstorm.
The delicate curve of her throat works as she swallows. “What do you want to do?”
“This.”
My mouth falls onto hers, sealing us together. Flinging her arms around my neck, she holds on tight as I scoop her up and kick the door shut behind us.
I carry her down the hallway, past the ghosts of old memories, and deposit her on the big round hall table. I’m already hard when I step back.
For the millionth time, I marvel at how fucking beautiful she is. ThatI’mthe one who gets to see her this way—sitting on the polished mahogany table, dress bunched around her thighs, chest heaving, cheeks flushed with desire.
When her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, my gaze finds a new target. The pink shimmer has disappeared, kissed off by me, leaving behind a mouth I plan to do wicked things with.
Her eyes, no longer puffy or red from crying, drop down slowly and back up, stopping at my mouth.
