Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Trey
Holland was and still is the most stubborn woman I’ve ever known. When she digs her heels in on something, she doesn’t budge. Once, when she was twelve and we were fishing down at the pond, she refused to quit until she caught a fish. It didn’t matter she was using the wrong type of lure, she wouldn’t give up. It was only when it turned dark and we couldn’t see anymore that we finally convinced her to give it a rest for the night.
It’s because I know her so well that I settle into the quiet on the ride to Louisville. It’s not hard because where Holland is concerned, I’ve built up a well of patience to call upon. I know I’m starting from behind the eight ball, but one thing Holland must surely know… I’m as stubborn as she is.
By the time we reach Louisville, it’s almost eight p.m. I hand the truck over to the valet and escort Holland inside. She only has her purse and she mutters as we approach the check-in desk, “I feel like an idiot since we don’t have luggage. It’s clear we’re here to just—”
Her mouth snaps shut as the clerk smiles at us. “Good evening. Welcome to The Brown Hotel.”
I make small talk with the woman as she checks us in and when she asks what we’re doing in town, I can’t help myself. “Just here to do a little fishing.”
The smile she bestows is confused yet accommodating. “Well, enjoy your stay.”
“We intend to,” I say, taking Holland by the elbow and leading her to the elevator.
I’m shocked when, as soon as we enter our room and the door closes behind us, Holland turns and presses her body against me. Her palms to my face, she pulls me down for a stirring kiss to which my body instantly reacts. The woman has hardly said a handful of words since I picked her up, but she’s now communicating by action.
Fine by me. In a frenzy of need and desire, we fumble with each other’s clothes, hands grasping at fabric, nails scraping against skin. There’s urgency in our movements, a raw hunger that demands to be sated. Our bodies collide with a force that borders on violent, seeking completion in the chaos of tangled limbs and heated acts.
We’re naked, falling into bed and within the cyclone of lust, I’m where I need to be… deep inside Holland. The physicality of our union is rough, unapologetic in its intensity. Moans and gasps fill the room, punctuated by the sound of flesh meeting flesh.
Holland asks for more, and I give it, and then we’re both exploding in a firestorm of pleasure that has her yanking my hair and me biting into her shoulder.
We lay entwined, breathless and spent, the air thick with sweat and sex. My heart still hammering, I revel in the way Holland sprawls across my chest, which is the first time we’ve actually cuddled since she’s returned. The last two times we were quick to get dressed and move on.
“That was some good fishing,” she says, her words raspy, but I hear the teasing in her voice. The tension is gone and she’s relaxed in my arms.
Chuckling, I press my hand into her lower back, holding her tight to me. I want to poke at her to talk to me, but I tread carefully because I could be poking a bear. “Want to go down to the restaurant and eat or order room service?”
“Room service,” she replies, all mellow with the hint of a smile in her voice. “I’m not leaving this bed until we have to go home.”
Grinning, I squeeze her tight. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”
“My mom is pressuring me to turn the business over to her,” Holland says, and it’s such an abrupt change of subject, not to mention a bold foray into conversation with a man she clearly doesn’t like to converse with all that much, that I’m not sure what to say. Doesn’t matter—she continues, “And I get that it’s a bit of a slap to her that my dad left it to me, especially since my mom catered to him for their entire marriage and I had nothing but disdain for him, but I’m telling you, Trey, she can’t run that business. She doesn’t have any common sense, no attention for detail, she’s horrible with math, doesn’t have any drive and for the life of me, I can’t figure out what would possess her to think she can do this. I’ve tried to tell her, in a gentle way, but today we had a pretty big fight and I just had to tell her she was incapable. She doesn’t want to accept it and I don’t know how to handle her. We’ve hardly ever disagreed on anything because she was always too apathetic and I never bothered to depend on her for anything, so there was never anything to really argue about. I’m almost tempted to just sign the damn thing over to her and let her sink or swim, but Trey… she’s going to sink, and I can’t in good conscience let that happen.”