The Darkest Part (Living Heartwood #1)(49)

Shutting down pain, regret, guilt—I wrap my arms tighter around him, trying to bury all those conflicting emotions, and feel the music thrum through me as I allow him to lead.

Where his hands rove over my body, heat blazes, sending a mix of fire-hot and cold chills skittering along my skin. His pale blue eyes, backlit by the glowing lights, hungrily devour me. I’m concentrating on my breathing, trying to do so normally, as the hard, tight muscles of his chest press against me. His hand roams lower, grasping the back of my thigh, bringing me closer still.

I’m so close to him, pressed so tightly, I ache. Everywhere. Not close enough.

I can feel his hard need against the seam of my skirt. It sends a thrill coursing through me, knowing what my body is doing to him. And when he lowers his head, resting his mouth in the crook of my neck, flames ignite my chest, his lips scorching my skin where they lightly brush. Holy shit. Holy hell.

I slip my fingers into his thick hair and feel his groan reverberate through me as his hips guide mine in a slow, wanting rhythm. His cologne invades my senses. My head is fuzzy, unable to think rationally. That voice in my head is now screaming, trying to be heard over the pounding bass. Over the rushing blood, hitting my heart hard and fast. It feels like it’s about to burst.

His hand guides my leg up, wrapping it around him. Then it travels back down the sensitive stretch, his warm, calloused palms a pleasurable friction against my skin. His lips move higher, just below my ear, and my eyes flutter closed as his hand dips beneath my skirt. The tips of his fingers just graze the seam of my boy shorts . . . so close to the fiery ache building between my thighs . . . excruciating. But if he just touches me—

My eyes fly open. For my sanity (did I really just think that?) I plant my palms against his chest (he feels so good, shit) and press. With just my subtle pressure, he backs away. But his breathing is as labored as mine. I watch as my hand moves with his hurried intakes of air.

“I just need a minute,” I say, probably too low to be heard over the music.

But with a strained nod, Holden begins to lead us off the dance floor. We find our table, and my drink looks so inviting . . . but it’s been sitting out unattended. And alcohol is the last thing I need. “Can you get me a water?” I ask.

With another nod, he takes off. The tightness in my chest releases in a hot breath past my lips. Whatever was happening out there . . . it’s happening too fast. Just this morning, we were at each other’s throats. This whole trip has been one intense moment after the next. No time to equilibrate in-between. And I need . . .

I have no idea what I need.

Tyler made it a point of letting me know he was aware of my feelings for his brother. I didn’t get to finish that conversation with him, though. I can’t imagine he was giving me permission. For anything. And, I don’t get how he remembers all that but forgets other things.

I shake my head, my thoughts becoming muddled the more I try to sort them out.

Tyler also witnessed the devastation I went through the first time around where Holden was concerned. If Tyler wasn’t even a part of this equation, if my brain and heart weren’t so unbelievably f*cked up—I still couldn’t entertain thoughts of me and Holden together. Granted he was only seventeen when he said those things, when he shattered me. But he hasn’t proven that he’s changed at all from that guy.

It’s hot and sexy and full of lust in this club. And Holden’s a guy. I’m sure banging me would be no big sacrifice on his part. Like he said all those years ago, he just wanted to know what I’d be like. I clamp my eyes closed, reliving that painful moment, and shut down the frenzied desire pulsing through me.

When I open my eyes, Holden’s setting a water bottle on the table. “You want to get out of here? Are you feeling okay?”

I don’t know which question to answer first. But this environment isn’t a good one for us. “Yeah,” I say. “Let’s go.”

Once we’re outside, the cooler night air hits me, sobering my body and thoughts. I gulp down my water, diluting the alcohol further. My ears are muffled, the loud music from inside the club still ringing in my head. People are dancing right outside the building, and we’re being hurried to walk on the sidewalk as the crowd pushes in.

“I can get you something,” Holden says, keeping close to my side. “An aspirin. Stomach medicine. What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. It just got too hot in there.” Shit. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I glance up at him, and a sly smile curves his lips. “You know what I meant. God, Holden. Vain much?”

He chuckles. The rumble of his voice weakens my knees. I turn my sight ahead. “I know what you meant,” he says, laughter lingering in his deep voice. “Well”—he looks around—“we can find another bar. We still have to hit every one, right?” He examines my expression closely. I feel my brow furrow. “Okay. Agreed. We’re pushing it. It’s been a long couple of days. Maybe sleep is best.”

I exhale the tension from my chest. “Thanks. I think Tyler will let us off the hook on this one.” I bite my lip, definitely not meaning that the way it sounded.

He’s quiet for a minute as we take the corner toward the hotel. “Yeah,” he finally says. “He’ll probably forgive us.”

I can’t tell if he’s insinuating anything, or if he’s just going along with my crazy. I decide to let it drop. And once again regret not taking my shrink up on her offer of anxiety meds. Just the thought of trying to sleep in the same room as Holden has my heart racing. My stomach clenching. I doubt I’ll be able to fall asleep for a long time, if at all.