Before You Go (2 page)

There we go.

“Okay,” I say, trying not to jump up and down with joy. “I’d like that.”

#

Two hours and a few drink
s later, someone yells out a final
Bingo.
The players are all feeling pretty good at this point, myself included. Holden switched over to water a while ago, the responsible gentleman I’ve learned he is, so he is totally composed.

T
he announcer collects the last of the cards, but before the crowd can grow restless, the bartender turns up the music. Soon everyone is singing to classic Pearl Jam.

Holden looks at me,
his eyes grow dark. He holds me there for a long moment before sweeping my hair off my shoulder. He leans in and his proximity does amazing things to my skin. It’s buzzing, begging to be touched.

“Wanna dance?” he whispers
in my ear.

Yes.

“To Eddie Vedder,” I scoff. “Really?” I haven’t danced since that night, and though I so want to get closer to Holden, I’m scared. This game has become increasingly difficult to play.

“Really,” he says, reaching for my hand.

I try to empty my mind as he pulls me into a corner. Nobody’s dancing, but most people are too trashed to notice us in the dark. Holden pulls me close and I breathe him in. He smells like pine and spice and fire.

Winter
.

M
y body adheres to his every contour, so tight not even light can pass between us. He wraps an arm around the small of my back while his other hand climbs up, securing around my neck.

I r
est my cheek on his chest and he begins to move. The music teases me and my body responds, swaying slowly to the heavy beat. It feels better than I care to admit.

Holden’s
fingers snake through my hair and my back arches, pushing into him even deeper. I don’t mean to do it. I don’t want to be this needy, but I can’t help myself. A moan echoes in his chest and I close my eyes, letting my body enjoy what he’s doing to me without allowing my pesky brain to interfere.

Suddenly,
Holden pulls back. His hands rest on my hips, holding me at an arm’s length. Then they travel up the sides of my body and stop dangerously close to my breasts. I am on high alert, feeling every sensation. I pray my tank top covers up what he’s doing to me. But when Holden’s eyes skim down the length of my body, there’s no hope as my nipples tighten against my cotton shirt.

God, no. Don’t look there.

He pauses a beat too long on my chest and he pulls me in again. “Are you ready to leave?”

The understatement of the millennium.

“I am,” I say, willing my body to calm down. Something I’ve never had to do before with a guy. Usually, I had to talk myself into feeling something—begging my body to react. Even with Thomas. I wanted to
want
to be with
him, and I really tried. He was perfect, at least I thought so at the time. But I think it was the
idea
of him I liked, not the real person.

This, what I’m feeling now, is new and unsettling.

Holden grabs my hand and links his fingers through mine, a movement even more intimate than the dance.

“Ready?” he asks
.

“Yeah, let’s go,” I answer.

Hand in hand, we walk out the door.

THREE

Holden walks me to my apartment door, but doesn’t move when I open it. Oh no. He’s going to make me ask him in. Well, that’s mortifying.

He puts his hand on my should
er and turns me to face him.

“Hey,
Scout,” he says, tipping his head down. “What is your real name, anyway?”

“
Tabitha,” I tell him. “Why?”

He smiles and takes hold of my hands.
“Because I’d like to know the name of the girl I’m going to kiss.”

Then, w
ithout waiting for a response, he brushes his lips against mine. It’s slow and sweet at first. His lips are soft and smell like mint. And just as I’m getting used to the sensation, he brings my lower lip into his mouth and takes a little bite.

My e
ntire body tenses and my head goes light. I grip his arms for balance—his hard, taut arms cut in lean muscle. It’s ridiculous what he’s doing to me. He continues to explore my mouth and jaw and neck. It does nothing for my equilibrium, so I have to hang on.

Holden
clears his throat and looks down at me, shifting the weight on his feet. “It’s late. I better let you get inside.”

He takes a step back.

I take a step forward.

“I like you, Ta
bitha,” he says, reaching out to rub my arms. “I don’t want to overstep here, we just met and—”

This time
, I leap forward to silence him. My lips crash into his and he welcomes it. I inhale his musky scent and want more. I rise up to my tiptoes and link my hands around his neck. I want to hold him here and stop time.

It’s unexpected, this draw I have to this guy I just met.

Holden pulls me up to him, his arms snug around my back to hold me in place. He stays in that moment with me, our tongues exploring while our bodies cling to each other.

The moment doesn’t last. Soon the mood become
s urgent, desperate. Holden’s hands tangle in my hair, turning my head so he can deepen the kiss. His movements are frantic and I love knowing it’s me doing this to him. I also know that I can stop it at any time—and knowing
that
gives me the courage to keep going.

Holden
drops his hands to my waist. They quickly make their way under my shirt. He runs his fingers down the length of my back and then before I can process what’s going on, he skillfully unclasps my bra. He exhales, his breath hot on my neck, and I melt into him.

There’s this amazing push-pull thing going on with us. It’s a dance, really. I take the lead—just the
way I like it. Then, he steals it back, knowing exactly what to do to make my body surrender. Something I can’t let happen. I need that spotlight tonight.

It’s time to make the big move.

I pull away from him and look into his eyes. I smile as I lift his t-shirt from his jeans and slide my hands up to his chest. He’s ripped and his skin is smooth and incredibly warm. I let my hand rest on his heart so I can feel each erratic beat. Then I begin my descent. His breathing now matches his heartbeat. I bring my hand to his stomach, trailing the light path of hair down to his waist, before dipping my fingers under his jeans.

Holden’s grip tightens around my ribs and
he kisses me with so much force he almost knocks the wind out of me. This incredibly erotic dance continues as he takes over. His hands release their death grip on by body and travel upward. But just before they reach his intended destination, I yank him inside my apartment.

This time, h
e doesn’t argue. He follows willingly, kicking the door shut behind him.

We fall onto my couch and
his head smacks into mine.

“Ouch
.” I laugh.

“Sorry, Tabitha.” He kisses my forehead, my nose, my lips. “Sorry,” he says again, brushing his lips on my chin, my neck, my chest.

He lifts me onto his lap and we sit face to face with my thighs straddling his. He gently tugs on my tank top, gathering the bottom as he slides it up over my head. Even though the clasp is open, my bra still covers me. But I’m not sure for how long. Holden kisses me over the silk. Still, the kisses are warm and wet, almost as if on my bare skin. When he does it a second time, I feel like I’m going to explode.

Time
to get this situation back under my control.

I
drop the bra straps off my shoulders and Holden’s eyes cloud. Slowly, I slip the bra off and let it drop to the floor. Holden appears to be frozen. He sits, staring at me, without a single movement. Taking advantage of the situation, I lift his shirt off. My eyes meet his and I hold his gaze while I undo the top button of his jeans. He closes his eyes and tips his head back.

I
can’t believe how much I want him in this moment. I can’t wait any longer. Sliding off him, I take his hand and bring him to my bedroom.

I giggle to myself, knowing
he doesn’t stand a chance
.

FOUR

Holden sits patiently on my bed while I light a c
andle. Who knew when I would do this again, if ever, so I decide to make the most of it.

I look over my shoulder at this man on my bed, his naked chest a map of beautiful plains and valleys. He looks even better in candlelight, if that’s possible. I sigh at the sight of him, off in my dreamy world, until he crooks his finger in my direction.

“I can’t wait,” he says and I know I don’t want him to.

As I walk toward him, toward the bed, I am extremely aware I have no shirt or bra on. But I don’t mind. He’s the one I picked, the one I want.

Holden reaches out to me and laces his fingers in that intimate way and I swear I float up off the floor. I want to ask him his real name, but that will just make all of this more real, and more difficult. No, he will just be my perfect Holden tonight.

His lips find mine again as he pulls me down to the bed. Each touch is magnified on my skin. All I see, hear, and feel is him. He parts my lips, but I soon take control, brushing my tongue along his. Gentle and soft, I taste every bit of him, and then push my body against his. When his breathing becomes ragged, I move a little faster and push a little deeper. He has no trouble keeping up, nipping at my lips, down my neck, and up to my ear. The sting of it has me on fire.

“Is this okay?” he whispers.

His voice sends
chills all the way down my body, settling between my legs. But how do I tell him that? Instead, I nod my reply and show him just what he’s doing to me.

I
roll over so I’m on top and plant a trail of kisses along his neck.

Down his chest.

Across his incredibly muscular stomach.

My fingers explore his
skin, reveling in the heat of it until I reach the waistband of his jeans.

“Tabitha.” Holden’s voice is raspy
, and the way he says my name does something to me. Something delicious.

I’m
giddy at the thought of what’s going to happen next. I’m going to have sex with this beautiful man and put my ugly past behind me. I will finally be okay again. It’s really going to happen this time.

I sit up to help him slide
off his pants and I see my reflection in the mirror above my dresser. My top gone, breasts exposed, and a guy in the background.

I lose my balance and suddenly it’s hard to breathe.

“Tabitha?” Holden sits up, reaching for me instantly. “Are you okay?”

Before I can answer, t
he pictures flip in my head—just as it happened that morning when Thomas shoved all those terrible images in my face. Photos from his party.

That night
started innocently enough. My friend Megan and I went to his house to put on a little dance for his birthday. He always asked me to dance for him, and I thought it’d be a fun way to celebrate. In private. But Megan talked me into doing a number as entertainment at the party.
We won’t strip or anything
, she said.
Just put on a little show. It will be fun
.

It was stupid and careless. Someone slipped something into my drink before we went out to surprise Thomas. I blacked out
soon after, but there was plenty of documentation from the night.

The next morning
I stood there with Thomas, unable to move, as all the pictures from the night fluttered to the floor.

Photos of me dancing.

Sitting on laps.

Posing with the guys from the party.

In most of them, I was topless, only wearing a pair of tiny panties.

“Tabitha?” Holden wraps an arm around me. “Are you okay there, little one?”

No, not even close.

He rubs my back and I want nothing more than to fall into him. “Ugh,” I search for an excuse to get out of this mess. This was another terrible idea. What was I thinking?

“
It’s all those mojitos,” I tell him now. “They’re catching up to me.”

I grab a blanket and wrap it around me, no longer wanting to be on display. “I don’t feel well.” I drop my head.
“I’m so sorry.”

Holden
tips my chin to meet my eyes. His are warm, full of concern. “It’s okay.” He helps slide me back into bed and pulls the covers up over me. And I try to put the memories far away, to the back of my mind.

For the next twenty minutes, Holden plays nurse. He feeds me Advil, makes tea, and puts a bucket on the side of my bed.
Then he crawls in next to me.

We fall asleep.

And it’s nice.

Until I wake up at four in the morning and
discover he’s still in my bed.