Page 30 of Holden

“Yes. Maybe someday I’ll take Chelsea on one of my jets,” Holden says, drawing my attention back to the actual conversation and not the dialogue of doubt in my brain.

“I’ve never flown anywhere,” I say. Mom and I drove, bussed, or took the train. Flying was too expensive, and always felt riskier. Like people would notice us in line at security. I hate that my father’s actions made us live like fugitives.

Holden looks at me seriously. “We’ll have to change that.”

My stomach does a double flip. Holy fuck he’s adorable, and again, I’m dragged from my dark thoughts and dropped into this fantasy.

Lindsay clears her throat, a reminder that she’s there. For a split second, I thought—dreamed?—it was just me and Holden, conversing over coffee in our apartment…

“So, er, I should go shower or something…” Lindsay says.

Our gazes meet, and in hers, I find all kinds of questions. I know she’s hurt I haven’t mentioned Holden, but even in this moment, I’m not sure what to say. Holden drains the rest of his coffee and stands. “I’d better get going.” He shakes Lindsay’s hand. “It was nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll meet again.” And then to me, “Walk me to the door.”

I practically stumble off the stool in my haste, and he grabs my elbow gently, while I regain balance.

At the door, Holden pulls me close and hangs his arms around my waist. I look up at his handsome face. Emotion clogs at the back of my throat.

“Thanks for a perfect night,” he says.

A delicious thrill runs up and down my spine.

He gently touches his lips to mine.

I am awash in guilt. But I can’t ignore the impact I’ve had on his life, without him knowing who I am.

Every cell in my body begs me to come clean. A confession lingers on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t get the words out. Damn it. Telling Holden who I am is the right thing to do. There isn’t—can’t be—another option. But as I look into Holden’s glistening eyes, my heart leaps into my throat, effectively cutting off my vocal chords.

Maybe I don’t have to tell him right….now. Not when we’ve finally gotten somewhere real. Not when we’re finally past the cool, hard exterior and into a part of Holden that’s even more alluring and mysterious.

Holden leans in for another kiss, this time lingering on my lips as last night’s memories come flooding back. My knees buckle. A deep sigh pulls from my mouth.

“I need to get out of here before I lose my willpower altogether,” he says, with a quick nip at the corner of my mouth. He opens the door, and kisses me lightly again, just as a group of college girls walk by on their way out of the dorm. My body stills. I’m sure I can hear them whispering about me. About Holden. About us.

No use pretending that they won’t recognize him. Holden Quinn is on the cover of three different magazines this month alone—a copy of each is tucked away in the drawer of my bedside table.

“People will say things about us,” I whisper.

He turns to watch the girls, just as they round the corner, giggling and glancing over their shoulders like high school cheerleaders, not college students. Holden pulls me close, his chest firm against mine. To my shock, my nipples go instantly hard and sensitive to his touch.

“Then let’s give them something to talk about, sweetness,” he says, closing his mouth over mine.

My stomach lurches with guilt. I should not want this. I don’t deserve it, not after everything I’m doing to deceive him. But damn if I don’t have the strength to pull away. And it feels so nice just to give in…

“I’ll see you tonight,” he says, finally breaking free. “7 p.m. at the office. Don’t be late.”

Chapter 16

Lindsay flops down on the sofa and folds her arms across her ample chest. I’ve never considered plastic surgery before—Holden seems absolutely fine with my breasts—but I admit, there’s something to be said for not having to wear a bra.

I lift my head, grateful for the brief reprieve in my studies. “What’s up buttercup?”

Her sigh is heavy.

She curls her feet up under her butt and shifts so we’re face to face. I sense her question before she asks, and immediately tense up. “So, Holden,” she says. “Things are kind of serious, huh?”

I swallow hard enough that it comes out a gulp. “Not really…”

She arches her manicured eyebrows. “You’ve seen him five nights in a row—and slept over once, maybe twice. He’s stayed the night here, too. That’s not serious?”