Page 57 of Win You Over
My eyes sting, tears welling at the edges before falling down my cheeks and smudging the ink on the paper in my hands.
I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I was too weak to fight them and I couldn’t get the words out. Beg, they said. And I wanted to, so fucking bad.
I wanted to.
I wanted to.
I wanted to.
I write the words over and over and over, square upon square of green paper flying around the two of us as I pour all my anger into those three words.
Chapter 22
Remington
Anger like nothing I’ve experienced before rages in my blood.
What kind of piece of shit does this to another human being? It was a premeditated attack, using his silence and his desire for friendship against him. I fucking hate them all. They’d better hope I never find out who they are.
I’d known something had happened to him. I’d seen it in his eyes that night at the fight, when I had him pinned beneath me. It’s why I asked if I could roll us over that day in the gym when we first kissed, because I wasn’t entirely sure what had scared him that night. I had no idea it would be my touch on his wrists that would bring those awful memories to mind. I’m mad at myself for not realising sooner. I never want to be the cause of that frightened look in Holden’s eyes.
Squares of paper lie all around us as Holden sits on my lap, his eyes wet. I understand his reluctance to take off his clothing in front of me, but I also think what he fears he looks like is far worse in his mind than in reality.
He’s every bit as beautiful to me now as he was earlier – this changes nothing. If anything, my feelings for him have deepened, knowing just how fucking strong he is.
The unburnt skin on his torso is pale and smooth, contrasting against the mottled pink areas where the skin has healed into rough patches of scar tissue.
Sitting up, I slide my hands up his back until they reach his shoulders, then pull him forward and bring our foreheads together.
“Thank you for telling me.”
Holden sniffs, and I press a chaste kiss to his lips before trailing kisses along his jaw and down his neck.
“I’ll never hurt you, Holden.” I deliver the words against his warm, salty skin. I got carried away earlier and fucked up, putting him in that same position. I won’t do it again.
His body quivers when I suck his earlobe into my mouth, gently pulling the flesh between my teeth.
“Do you think I’m disgusting now?” His words are cracked and full of emotion, barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner, but I would hear them anywhere, so in tuned I’ve become to everything Holden Booker.
I pull back; the question sparking another bolt of anger in me – not at him, never at him – but at the people who put that insecurity in his mind. I get it; I get how superficial people are, especially in our town where designer labels and perfect skin, teeth and hair are a benchmark for deciding someone’s worth, along with their last name and bank balance. I couldn’t give a shit about any of that.
“You’re stunning, Holden.”
A blush turns his cheeks a ruddy pink, and his lips twitch into a sort-of-smile.
“Inside and out.” I continue moving my lips over his body, dipping my tongue into the groove of his clavicle.
“When you first stepped into that ring with me, I thought you were sexy,” I admit.
“I thought you were kind of a dick,” he replies, his words crack less than before, like he’s relaxing back into my presence. I never want him to feel anything but comfortable with me.
“What I’m hearing is that you wanted my dick,” I tease, thrusting my hips so that my thickening cock ruts against his ass.
He laughs, the sound warm like liquid gold in my ears.
“I’d have settled for being your friend,” I say. My hands draw circles on his back, his hips circling my lap at a languid pace.
“That what we are? Friends?” Holden asks, adjusting his position to close the space between our naked chests. His cock is hard, pressing against my stomach.
