Page 21 of The Placeholder
“Told you,” I growl, planting one hand on the car behind her, caging her with my body. The scent of her—vanilla and something uniquely her—cuts through the cinnamon in the air.
“You did,” she agrees, tilting her chin up, eyes locked on mine. “And you were right.”
I crush my mouth to hers, tasting sweetness and heat. My hands grip her waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as I pull her hard against me. She fits perfectly against the hard planes of my chest, my thighs. Blood rushes south, making me dizzy with want. When I finally tear myself away, her lips are swollen, her breath coming in short gasps.
“We should get back on the road,” I say, my voice a rough scrape, “or we might never make it to the lake house.”
Back in the car, I grip the wheel with one hand, my knuckles white as my other hand claims her thigh again, fingers splaying possessively across her soft skin. The muscle beneath tenses as I inch higher, tracing the frayed edge of her denim shorts. The heat of her radiates through my palm, straight to my core. When my thumb grazes that sensitive spot where thigh meets hip, I catch the hitch in her breathing—a slight sound that shoots straight to my groin.
“I’ve missed you,” I growl, my voice a rough rumble that I barely recognize. “These business trips are fucking torture. Three days without touching you feels like three years.”
"Phone calls helped,” she whispers, placing her smaller hand over mine, her touch feather-light yet searing. “But this is better.”
"Much better,” I agree, jaw clenched as her fingers slide between mine, our hands locked together against her warm thigh. The steering wheel creaks under my grip as I force my focus on the asphalt ahead instead of the curve of her lips. “Been thinking about nothing but getting you alone since I boarded that return flight. Just you and me. No goddamn interruptions.”
My body responds instantly at the thought, and I shift in my seat, the denim of my jeans suddenly too tight, too restrictive. The ache is primal, a physical weight between my thighs. Her scent fills the car—something floral mixed with the heat of her skin—making my jaw clench with restraint.
We stop at a scenic overlook, the Hudson River a silver-blue vein cutting through the landscape below. I back her against the guardrail, one hand braced beside her head, the metal warm from the sun. This time, when I claim her mouth, I taste her deeply, my tongue stroking against hers. My rough palms slide down the curve of her spine to grip the soft flesh of her ass, pulling her hard against the rigid length of me. The friction draws a groan from deep in my chest. Her gasp vibrates against my lips, her body yielding and arching into mine.
“I want you so badly my muscles ache with it,” I growl against the pulse point at her throat, tasting salt on herskin. “Been fighting to keep my hands off you since that first night.”
Her fingers twist in my hair, the sharp tug sending heat straight to my groin. “Then drive faster.”
The last hour of the drive is exquisite agony. Della’s hand claims my thigh, her thumb drawing slow circles dangerously high on the muscle, making my jaw clench with each teasing stroke. I grip the wheel harder, knuckles white, as I describe in rough detail exactly how I plan to take her—bent over the kitchen counter, pressed against the shower wall, sprawled across the dock with nothing but stars above us. Her skin flushes pink beneath my gaze, the pulse at her throat visibly quickening.
The private road appears like salvation. I downshift hard, engine growling as we curve through dense forest. The lake appears first—a sheet of hammered gold in the late sun—then the house: raw timber and glass rising from the pines like something carved from the wilderness itself, the wide deck jutting toward the water like a challenge.
“Axel,” Della whispers, her body arching forward. “It’s beautiful.”
I kill the engine with a flick of my wrist, satisfaction surging hot in my chest at having pleased her. “Wait until you see inside.”
Before I can even turn off the engine, she’s unbuckling her seatbelt, a mischievous glint in her eye.
She bolts from the car with a challenge thrown over her shoulder, gravel crunching under her sandals. The sight of her—all curves and wild hair—ignites something primal in me. Three powerful strides and I’m on her, my hands rough against the bare skin of her waist as I haul her against my chest. The scent of her—sunshine and sweetperfume—fills my lungs as I lift her off her feet. Her body weighs nothing in my arms, her soft curves molding against my torso.
“Caught you,” I growl, my voice a low rumble against the delicate shell of her ear. The silky strands of her hair brush my jaw as I set her down only to claim her properly, one arm beneath her knees, the other supporting her back.
Her fingers trace the corded muscle of my neck, nails lightly scraping my skin. “What now?” she asks, her breath warm against my throat.
I take the steps two at a time, muscles burning pleasantly with her weight. “Now I remind you what it feels like to be thoroughly claimed.”
The door yields to my shoulder, revealing cathedral ceilings and endless glass. But all I register is the heat of her body against mine, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, and those lips parted and waiting for mine.
“Welcome to our weekend,” I tell her, crossing the threshold with my prize, kicking the door shut with a decisive thud.
I carry her upstairs, taking the steps deliberately so I can savor the weight of her against my chest. The bedroom takes up the entire second floor—all exposed beams and panoramic glass. I set her down, and she immediately moves toward the wall of windows, drawn like a magnet to the view below.
“Oh, Axel,” she breathes, pressing her palms against the glass. "It’s stunning.”
I watch her silhouette against the backdrop of the lake, the late afternoon sun gilding her hair and casting her in amber light. My mouth goes dry at the sight.
“My view’s better,” I say, my voice rough with desire as I close the distance between us.
I come up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her flush against me. Her body fits perfectly against mine, the soft curves of her ass nestling against the hard ridge straining beneath my jeans. I brush her hair aside, exposing the delicate column of her neck, and press my lips to her pulse point. Her skin tastes like salt and sunshine, and I can feel her heartbeat quicken beneath my mouth.
“I’ve been thinking about this all week,” I murmur against her skin, trailing kisses up to the sensitive spot behind her ear. My hands slide beneath the hem of her shirt, finding the warm skin of her stomach. “Having you here, all to myself.”
She turns in my arms, her blue eyes dark with desire, and I can’t wait another second. I lift her again, one arm beneath her thighs, the other supporting her back, and carry her to the king-sized bed dominating the room. The mattress dips as I lay her down, the white duvet a perfect canvas for her beauty.
