HOLDEN
“Idon’t want to forget.” Sophie says.
God, the magic words. But instead of encouraging me, they remind me of why we can’t. I’ve been hiding my attraction to her. I’ve been struggling every second she’s around to keep my hands to myself, and if I have her now if I push it any further than we already have, my brain might fall to pieces. As long as I leave her alone from the waist down, there doesn’t have to be regrets.
The second we take that next step …
But Sophie spreads her legs and pulls me closer until I can see her pale purple panties and how wet they are. I groan and lean in for another kiss. It’s stupid. But I’ve done a million stupid things. Thousands of mistakes have led me here, to Sophie’s greedy mouth following every stroke of my tongue and clinging to me like I alone can give her the satisfaction she needs.
She groans and rubs herself against my cock, taking full advantage of the friction as I drag her closer, fingers tugging at the hem of her dress so I can feel her silky panties covering her ass.
I devour her, feast on her, and enjoy every second we have. She rubs across my back, ignoring raised scars and tattooed lines and whimpering as she gives me more access to her mouth. I cup her breasts, teasing her nipples through the lacy fabric as her hips roll against mine. Fuck, I’m so hard, so ready.
The timer of the microwave goes off. Sanity returns, and I draw back. I turn away from her, trying so hard to get my head on straight.
Sophie’s going to be the death of me.
“Holden?”
I glance over my shoulder and find her sucking on her bottom lip, soft bedroom eyes focused on me, and that gentle flush over her cheeks as she fights to keep herself there. Her feet rub each other, and I can’t do it.
I can’t walk away. I know I should. She’s my friend’s daughter. I know Roman and others are interested, but fuck, I want her so badly, and the fact that she wants me … I blink a few times. It’s because she doesn’t know.
She’s only seen me in pants. Women don’t want someone they have to fix, and I can’t hide my scars. I take a deep breath and scratch the back of my head.
“Sophie, you don’t want me.”
“Yes, I do. I’m old enough to know what I want. And I know you know it too.” She swallows.
The hard way it is. Because I can’t go through the rejection again. I can’t fall for another woman only to have her push me away, watch me with pity or disgust when I have to drag my prosthetic back on in the morning.
I walk to Sophie, my hand between her breasts so she can’t come closer. Fuck, it would be easier to lose myself in her, to let my lips wander all the way to her hips, sucking and licking. And would it be so bad if I touched her, gave her the relief she needs as long as her panties stay on?
Fuck, focus.
“Sophie, you can do better than me. I’m scarred. I’m broken. I’m-”
“Do you want me, Holden?” She asks, cutting me off.
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is to me. I’m an adult. I can decide what’s best for me. I can make my own choices too. So if you’re pushing me away again because you think there’s something about you that’s so terrible, I can’t see beyond it … I need to know.”
I rub my thumb over the inside of her breast. She nods like that’s what she expected. “We’re all broken in different ways. That’s what life does. I want you, and that’s what matters right now.”
“I can’t do this, Soph.” I kiss her cheek softly. “I’m sorry.”
I grab my food and walk away, trying so hard to be the good guy. This is what Nick would do. I know it. And Miles, schedule-less, free-spirited Miles could come home anytime. Just before I get to my room, a small hand appears on the door.
“Please don’t run away from me, Holden.”
My eyes go back to her. I’d love to tell her everything, to spill my soul. To unlock all the shit that makes me unlovable and lay it out, chart it like a map so she can see how every turn is going to take her to another horror story and further away from the romance she wants.
I turn her cheek so I can softly peck her lips. “I’ll have better control next time.”
“You never answered me.” She insists.
I manage to get the door between us, but I turn and rest my forehead against it. With something in the way, I can tell her. “Yes, Sophie. I want you.”
She takes a sharp breath, then I hear her run off. The shower kicks on, and I smirk. I toss my food to the side, drop myself in bed and finish undoing my pants. I drag my cock from the denim and groan as I wrap my hand around myself.
Sophie’s long showers don’t fool me. And I know that Gunner and Roman are just as aware of how many she takes. Especially when she plays music loud enough to cover every sound.
So I let myself picture her, legs spread, completely naked, touching herself. Her fingers stroking her wet pussy – the pussy that I made wet – as she moans and whimpers. God, her moans taste good. I love hearing them, feeling them, knowing I’m the reason for them.
I pump my cock again.
Eager Sophie, so determined to have me even though she can have anyone. Anyone in this house, anyone at work, anyone in this whole fucking city, and she’s turned her attention to me.
I pant, thinking of her lips moving down my body, of her hot tongue stroking and lapping at my cock as her mouth sucks me hard. Sophie likes challenges. I bet she’d try to fit me down her throat, taking every inch of me.
Shivering, I gasp and picture her wicked eyes, sinful and vulnerable, all at once. I come before she does – or at least before she turns the shower off. After I clean up, I try to continue on with my day. I get more work done than I have in over a week while trying to avoid her.
I hear the guys come home and wait until the TV is on to come out. Sophie is sitting with everyone at the table. Miles waves me over. “Come on, Hold. Take a break from work and join us. We got a full Southern spread.”
The smell of fried chicken wins me over. I take the spot next to Sophie because it’s the only one left and focus on filling my plate. Conversations whirl around. Which department did Sophie like best? Was anyone out of line with her while she was there? Does she have any questions?
“Daddy, when do I shadow you?”
That word on her lips reminds me of our first kiss, of when I came in and saw her ass up in the air, perfect to smack and fuck. I take a slow breath and look to Miles. He chuckles and shakes his head. “My job is the worst. Phone calls, emails. All I do is talk to people. I’m an underpaid therapist.”
“No, he’s the complaints department.” Gunner teases.
“Then even more underpaid.”
Everyone laughs, and even I crack a smirk. Sophie nudges me with her knee and gives me a gentle smile. Just that tells me we’re okay. She’s not worried I’m mad. She’s not hurt. And maybe she’ll behave tonight.
“You have a mountain of work waiting for you now, hon. I can’t take you from that anyway.” Miles says, his mouth full of food.
Sophia shrugs and sucks mashed potatoes from her spoon, her tongue flicking out to catch what remains on her lips. Her eyes move around the table, and I can tell that she feels relaxed here.
Which is another reason to not push things further. She deserves to feel comfortable and safe among us. This is supposed to be her home. I can’t ruin that just because I’m greedy for her affection.
“How’re you, Hold? You’ve been living like a cave creature.” Gunner asks.
Roman’s eyes focus on me. “Everything good?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Just getting through.”
They nod, and Sophie looks around before her hand comes down on mine. “What? What’s …”
“It’s up to Holden to tell you.” Miles says seriously. “Don’t pry, sweetie.”
But no one says a thing about her small hand wrapping around mine and her pleading eyes. I shrug. “No one leaves war easily.”
There’s no pity in her eyes. She just nods and murmurs a word that goes straight through me. “nightmares.”
“Massimo has invited us for the weekend. One of his parties or something.” Roman says, helping the conversation move away from me.
I shoot him an appreciative look, and he nods his head. He fills Soph in on his cousin, then shrugs. “It’s weird, though. He said he had news but didn’t want to say what just that there was no way we were getting out of the visit this time with a work excuse.”
“Maybe he’s settled down,” Nick says.
“Oh please, him?” Matt drops into the last remaining chair. “Please, he’s worse than Roman.”
We all laugh, and Sophia looks to her dad for answers. He shrugs. “Player.”
“Oh.” Then she grins at Matt. “How’s the wedding planning?”
“I come here to escape it, Sophie,” Matt says, pointing at her with a beer. “You want details? Go talk to Bella.” He smiles and winks at her.
“I’ll make it a lunch date.” She decides. “I’d be happy to help.”
I clean up after dinner, and Roman pats my back. “If you need anything, man.”
“I know,” I grumble. “Thanks, man.”
“Sophia’s easy to talk to as well.” He states evenly. “I know you like secrets and all that, but really, if anyone is going to listen without getting all weepy and dramatic about it, it’s her.”
“She doesn’t need to know the hell we went through. There’s a reason it was kept overseas.” I affirm.
“So why did you carry it home?” He asks.
With that, he leaves. I hear his booming voice as he greets Miles with drinks. They usually have an informal business meeting on Thursdays. Gunner, Roman, and Miles. They watch sports and talk about shit that needs to be addressed back in Scottsdale. I’m glad they leave me out of it.
I stretch, take care of some physical therapy, then take off the prosthetic. I set it on the floor and compare my legs again. The scarring goes all the way up my thigh to my hip. I trace it with a shaking finger. Sure, Sophia is eager to be in my lap, eager to take whatever she can, but she doesn’t want this.
She can do better than an ex-soldier who can’t leave the battlefield. One who’s marked by it inside and out. Even Gunnar’s a better option, and he’s a miraculously functioning alcoholic. I shake my head and push myself into bed.
Sophie only wants me until my own demons come out.
Still, Roman’s advice to talk to her is stuck in my head. Because I’d kind of like someone – a nonprofessional civilian – to know that I’m surviving. I want someone who won’t stare at me like I’m not a man, someone who won’t try to fix me like a wounded bird.
And if Sophia, in her sexy wrapping, could be that person …
I shake my head and rollover. No. She’s too sweet, too gentle, too loving. She doesn’t need to suffer under anyone else’s baggage. She deserves more than this.
But when I lick across my bottom lip, I swear I can still taste her. I can still feel her hard nipple against my palm, still, feel her nails dragging down my sides. It’s a beautiful way to fall asleep.