Restraint - Adriana Locke Page 0,73
left for work this morning.
Watching him prepare for a day in the office was a treat.
If I thought watching him undress was a sight to behold, I didn’t anticipate how sexy it would be to watch him dress. The way his legs and ass fill out a pair of pants is on display when he’s not wearing anything else. I love the next layer—a shirt unbuttoned, hanging open. And watching him put on a tie is basically foreplay.
Goodbye kisses are now my favorite thing.
Except for the one I’ll be getting in the next day or two. That one is going to suck.
“What am I going to do?” I ask Holt’s bedroom.
It doesn’t answer.
I pick up my phone and scroll through social media, hoping something will pop up and take my mind off Holt. Not surprisingly, nothing can hold a candle to him.
I’m in trouble. I know it. I just don’t know what to do about it.
My contacts list opens with the press of a finger. I hover over Sienna’s name.
“I shouldn’t do this,” I tell myself as I contemplate doing it anyway. “Ugh.”
My head falls back against the pillows as I war with what to do.
The first step in this ridiculous process is admitting outright that I like Holt. Check.
The next step is figuring out if I can, and if I should, pursue it. Not check.
I groan, holding my phone in front of my face. I don’t want to ask for help with this. It’s stupid. Women are supposed to know how to do these things and, besides, I’m certain that not sharing my business with others is the way to go.
But still …
I want to talk to Sienna. I’m partially embarrassed by this little fact and fight the urge to hide beneath the covers. Regardless, the idea of hearing her take on what’s happening with Holt and me and hearing her opinion seems helpful.
And maybe even fun.
“Who am I these days?”
I give in and scroll to her name in my text app.
I need your help.
It takes a whole three seconds for my phone to ring. When I answer, I’m laughing.
“Were you just sitting around waiting on my call?” I ask.
“Would it be weird to say yes?”
“It would absolutely be weird.”
She laughs too. “Then no. I wasn’t. I was sitting in Crank watching Walker fix a tractor through the window and hoping that a friend who’s sleeping with a super-hot millionaire would call me for advice. Better?”
“Not really.”
“Figures. So, what’s up?”
I chew on my nail. Because if I’m completely reinventing myself on this trip, why not add being a nail-biter to it?
“Sienna …” I take a deep, shaky breath. “I like Holt.”
“I know.”
I scramble to a more upright position in the bed. “No, I mean, I really think I like him. I think I’m in trouble.”
“You aren’t in trouble. You’re in love.”
“What? I am not.”
I slow blink at her loose use of the l-word.
The only man I’ve ever told I loved was Jack, and I’m not sure I ever really loved him. I think we were both struggling to make it in college, and we leaned on each other. It became a co-dependent relationship. I relied on him for my identity and for approval, not for love.
Certainly not for love.
“Blaire, calm down,” Sienna says gently. “I can feel you spiraling from here.”
“I am not.”
She laughs. “You’ve said that now twice.”
“I said I liked him. Not loved him.”
“Okay. Pardon me. I shouldn’t have tossed that weapon out there like that.”
“Exactly.”
“I was kidding,” she snorts. “It’s not a weapon. It’s a positive thing.”
I roll my eyes and go back to the nail-biting again.
This isn’t helpful. I just needed to know what to do about leaving here and potentially never seeing him again.
But do I tell him that? Or do I just let things go and see what happens?
What’s a girl to do in these cases?
“You like him,” Sienna says. “This is a good start. Now, what do you need help with?”
I drop my hand. “I don’t know what to do now.”
“Oh, Blaire …”
I sigh. “I know I sound like a child, but I’m really confused.”
“You don’t sound like a child. You just sound like a woman who hasn’t been here before. And, you know what? I’m glad you called me.”
“You are?”
“Yes! Of course. This is what friends do. This is such good progress.”
“Before you know it, we’ll be shopping together on the weekends,” I say, my tone full of sarcasm.
“Really? That would be amazing.”
“I was kidding.”
“Oh.”
I sigh again—louder this time. “Maybe I