Page 31 of Sunday's Best

Holden

Come outside?

I inhale a small sip of air and work up the courage to roll out of the supine position. My bare feet hit the floor, and I shut my eyes for another second, hoping to quiet the cacophony of power tools hammering and drilling and chiselling away at my skull.

Inhale. Exhale.

With exaggerated effort, my feet slide into my sandals, and I gingerly step out into the bright daylight. It’s already much too hot for comfort out here, and that blasted sun is doing a number on my headache. Brimming a flattened palm above my eyes, I throw myself into the camp chair next to where Holden’s calmly sipping from his favorite mug.

“Hey,” he says, a little softer than I ever hear him speak when Logan’s around.

“Hey.”

His free hand runs through his wavy, dark hair, gathering a handful and letting it fall so the sun catches each strand and dips them in gold. His eyes drift over my face, lingering on my mouth, and my heart dips and spills into my stomach.

Holden jerks his chin toward the pickup. “I’m gonna rip into town to restock some food while we wait for Logan to get himself together… If you want to take a little drive with me?”

“I’d love to.”

Before too long, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Holden’s truck with an anticipative smile and a nervous hum in my chest.

The truck rumbles to life, and Holden’s hand slides across the center console to catch my fingers in my lap. “Ready?”

I nod. Though I’d told him I would take a drive, and God, did I love the excuse to have one final moment alone before we get home tomorrow, I walked into the trailer with a nagging realization that I couldn’t leave Logan here if he was really sick. I’m an asshole. A cheating, lying asshole. But that doesn’t mean I’m entirely heartless.

Instead I found him parked on the dinette bench, shaky hands wrapped around a cup of coffee, with a bottle of pain killers open in front of him. I tossed some bread in the toaster for him, freshened up, and it was Logan who suggested I tag along with Holden—he had a list of things he wanted from the store.

A sign from the gods, I decided.

At first, we drive in companionable silence, with small finger squeezes and the low sounds of a country song crackling through the radio. But the farther we get from the rest stop, the more the air between us charges and heats with an expectant energy. My thumb strokes his hand, studying the grooves and wondering what it would feel like between my legs.

Holden clears his throat. “There’s, uh… apparently, there’s a sightseeing spot we could check out up ahead.”

“Yeah? What type of bizarre sculpture is it this time?”

He smiles. “No sculptures. I’ve just been dying for another chance to kiss you.”

I smile back. “Me too.”

The secluded spot is overgrown with grass, and there’s really not much to sightsee beyond tiny cars moving along the nearby highway, an endless prairie sea, and a bent-over sign warning of high winds.

The click of my unbuckling seatbelt echoes in the quiet truck cab, a dangerous spark in the charged air. Holden’s grip on my hand cuts to him holding my jaw, and a slow, careful tug until my lips are a breath away from meeting his, and my heart is drumming louder than the waves of wind rolling over the truck.

His eyes are so blue in this light, pupils flaring as he reaches to unfasten the hair tie securing my messy ponytail. Thick fingers caress the sleek, black strands, catching on tiny tangles. I can feel the heat of his breath, smell the sweetness of his shampoo and the lingering hint of mint from his toothpaste.

“I meant what I said yesterday,” he murmurs. “About this not being a mistake. About wanting you. I know that’s fucked up because Logan’s my brother, but I also know he wouldn’t hesitate if the tables were turned.”

“The way I see it, our relationship ended the first time he cheated on me, then again every time since. For a long time, I thought I was lucky that anyone wanted me, and the kind of love he gave was as good as I’d ever get, but…” My eyes trace each feature of Holden’s handsome face—the dark lashes casting shadows over slightly reddened cheeks, the thick layer of stubble, the permanent divot between his brows from the near-constant frown. A frown that’s been absent all morning until now. “But I’m not afraid to admit I want more now. I want you. And I think I deserve that, don’t I?”

“You deserve the best.”

“You,” I whisper.

He’s on me then. His hand tightens around my hair to palm the back of my skull, and his mouth claims mine like he’s a man starved. It’s messy and breathless, and I kiss him back just as hard. I’m ready to lose myself entirely to appease the want coursing through my veins.

His free hand moves beneath the hem of my shirt, shoving the cotton bralette up so he can cup my bare breast in his warm hand. The rough skin on his fingers feels delicious swishing over the peaked point of my nipple, and I lean into the heat blossoming low in my belly. We’re pulling my shirt over my head, then my bralette, and he groans at the sight of my naked chest.

“I think about these tits every time I fuck my hand,” he confesses, gaze moving from one to the other like he’s trying to catalogue every minuscule difference between them.