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“Let me get something to clean your face. It’s a mess.” Holt helped me sit down on his mattress and then he was gone.
I glanced around the room, which was much cleaner and nicer than mine. He liked organization, while I was messy and dirty. I started to sway just as he appeared in my line of sight again.
“Here.” Holt pressed a cloth to my lip, and I hissed at the contact. “You really should go to the emergency room to get this looked at.”
I grabbed his wrist to maintain contact. “No.”
I hated doctors, the hospital, the smell, the constant nagging. When I crashed in a race, they always did the same tests and asked the same questions. I didn’t need that tonight. What I needed was Holt. I gazed up into his pretty face and wondered what he saw in me. Because when I looked at him, all I saw was perfection. Dark hair he kept shaved on the sides while his bangs were long and swept back from his face on the top. Hazel eyes framed with long lashes that crinkled around the corners when he smiled and those lips. Soft to the touch, warm against mine, and made for kissing.
He wiped the blood from my face and tilted my head it up toward his. “You need to stop drinking so much. It’s not healthy,” he murmured.
“Have I ever hurt you, H?” I whispered. “Have I done something to upset you, to make you think I couldn’t make you happy? Haven’t I always been good to you?” I always cared for him. Wanted him to be safe.
Holt’s eyes went wide. “No, I mean, sometimes seeing you with so many girls hurt me, but you didn’t know how I felt about you. So it’s not like you did it on purpose.”
“I could be good to you.”
“Watson, stop it.”
I grabbed his hand. “Please, H, I need you.” God, why did I sound like such a child? “I was so lost without you today. When you were off with your friends, and I was here. I let Mason talk me into meeting his wife’s friend... Don’t look at me like that.”
“This is what I’m talking about.” Holt shoved my hand away. “You say one thing but do the opposite.”
“I wasn’t interested. I didn’t touch her. All I could think about was you.” I tried to stand but ended up dropping back down onto the bed. “Please, Holt, you have to believe me.”
He shook his head. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I think you should sleep in your own bed tonight.”
“No.” I raised my chin as tears burned my eyes. “I want to be with you.”
Holt stared at me with pinched lips. “Why are you doing this to me?” he demanded.
“Why won’t you listen to me?” My voice cracked, and when I tried to hold back, the tears began to fall. “I want to be with you,” I said again. “Please, just let me stay here tonight.”
“Raise your arms up over your head,” Holt cut me off. “Do it, damnit.”
When I did as he told me, he slipped my shirt up over my head and then folded it neatly before placing it on the dresser.
“Now lie down.”
I did that, too.
“Arch your hips.” He unbuttoned my shorts and removed them. They joined my shirt. “Your underwear stays on. Keep the cloth to your lip until it stops bleeding.”
I watched from the bed as he undressed before putting on a pair of pajama pants with pickles on them. He loved to wear crazy stuff like that. Then he climbed up onto the bed with me and reached over to turn off the lamp.
“What made you—”
His finger landed on my lips to stop me before he brushed the wetness from my cheeks. Was I still crying?
Holt wrapped his arms around me, and I swear I stopped breathing. My heart thundered loudly in my chest as I pressed my nose into his soft, dark hair.
“Why are you crying?” His lips brushed my skin. “Don’t you dare say it’s because of me, Watson James.”
My dick jerked in my briefs. “What do you want me to say, then?” I asked. Why was it suddenly like this? After years of knowing Holt, I was suddenly into him. Suddenly attracted to him when I’d been chasing everyone else. When he’d been here the entire time?
“Why now?” he asked, like he could read my mind. Holt pulled back to stare at me in the dark. “Why not last week or six months ago? I was just about over you, Watson.”
Tears filled my eyes again. I wasn’t a crier, but I felt like I was hurting Holt, and I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to be good for him. “I’m so sorry.” I meant it, too.
