Dear Life(74)

I shouldn’t care, but I do. I care a lot actually because I like Hollyn and want to make a good impression. Although, lately I haven’t been doing a good job at that. I’ve been a blubbering mess around her, and that’s embarrassing.

Today. With Ethan. Yeah, that was some fucked-up shit. When I left Rebecca’s, all I could think about was one thing: getting to Hollyn. While I waited for her to fly in, I kept thinking what I was doing, why I needed her, but once I saw her in the airport, I knew exactly why I needed her. She soothes me, but not just me. She soothes my soul.

From her kind, knowing eyes, to her gentle, pacifying touch, she is able to take the darkness that tends to envelop me and turn it into something bright, something real.

The sound of objects clinking around in the sink of my bathroom draws my attention back to the here and now. Hollyn, she’s here. She’s really fucking here.

“Everything okay in there?” I ask.

The door opens, light floods into the bedroom, and Hollyn stands in the middle, her hair tied on top of her head, her face free of makeup, and a long T-shirt hanging loosely on her shoulders.

“Uh, do you have some paper towels?” She toes the carpet, her hands behind her back, and her eyes avoiding all contact with me.

“I have leftover Chipotle napkins.” I wince. Cleaning supplies don’t exist in my apartment since I have a maid service come in, but I should at least have paper towels . . . if I hit up the grocery store like I was supposed to.

“Those should work.”

I turn to go get the napkins when an assault of my cologne hits me. What the hell?

“Did you use my cologne?” I wave my hand in front of my nose. “Like a lot of it?”

Guilty is written all over her face. There is no hiding it.

“Um.” She rubs her forehead and shifts in place. “I kind of wanted to smell it, and in the midst of doing so, I might have dropped it in the sink, breaking the bottle open accidentally.”

Laughter bubbles up inside me, but I tamp it down. “But my cologne was in my medicine cabinet. What were you doing in my medicine cabinet?”

Her wince deepens, shame and embarrassment visible on that beautiful face of hers. “If I said I was looking for night cream, would you believe me?”

“No.” I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head.

“What about Gold Bond?”

My brow furrows. “The itching relief body powder? Not so much.”

“Tampons?” she tried one last time.

A smirk crosses my face. “That’s a fuck no.”

“Fine.” She succumbs with a defeat in her shoulders. “I was snooping, found your cologne, fumbled it like an idiot and then smashed it in your sink. I just wanted a sniff. Who knew the bottle was going to be so slippery?”

“And why did you want a sniff?” Teasing Hollyn, making her blush, God, it has to be one of my new favorite things.

“Because, uh . . .” she pauses and then says, “I’ve heard if you smell something before you taste it, you get the full experience?” There is no confidence in her voice. It’s all question. Fuck. Me.

“Smell it before you taste it?” I step toward her, closing in rapidly. “Are you referring to tasting me or the cologne?”

The distance between us shortens quickly, her body stiffening with my approach. Her hands are trembling. Is she second-guessing this? Or is she nervous?

“Not the cologne,” she answers shyly.

The last few inches between us close. My hand to her waist, my eyes trained on hers, my breath a whisper away. She said she was ready? Right? I don’t want to push too far, and yet, I need to dive in. I need to know what it feels like to have her intimately pressed up against me, our skin melting together, our tongues tangled, and our hearts beating as one.

I need this more than anything.

But I will wait if she’s not ready. I don’t want to, but I will wait.

Tentatively, I trace the line of her jaw with my thumb, marveling in the beautiful, delicate structure of her face, taking in every contour, every divot. And I can’t help but think, Eric was one lucky son of a bitch to have married Hollyn, even if it was for a short period of time.

“I want to kiss you, Hollyn. So fucking bad.”

“Then do it,” she says on a whisper.

“I can’t.”

With a cute tilt to her head, she asks, “Why not?”

Isn’t it blatantly obvious? This woman can be so oblivious at times.

“Because,” I lean in, my nose running along her jawline, stopping at her ear to finish my sentence, “if I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop myself from stripping this T-shirt off you and kissing your entire body, leisurely exploring you with my tongue.”

Her breath hitches, the pulse in her neck quickens, and everything in her body stiffens. At that moment, I know I fucked up. She let me kiss her, that was it. It wasn’t an open invitation to talking about licking every inch of her body.

Christ, Jace. Shit.

“What are you waiting for?”

My head is cast down, shame coursing through me when her words register in my brain. What?

What am I waiting for?

Wait, what?

Shocked and already excited, my eyes meet hers for confirmation. There is some hesitation in the way her body rests against mine, but those eyes, they give her away. She wants me as much as I want her.