Holden's Resurrection (Gemini Group #6) - Riley Edwards Page 0,61
military, and even though he was a SEAL and in some assault teams it was standard practice for them to grow out their hair and beards, Holden’s team wasn’t one of them. He’d always worn his in military standards, meaning close-cropped. There was never enough for me to run my fingers through it, or grab a handful when his head was between my legs.
“What are you thinking about?”
“How you’ve grown your hair out.”
A sexy smirk formed and he bowed down, lowering his lips to my ear.
“No, you weren’t. You were thinking it’s now long enough for you to grab a fistful and keep me where you want me.”
Heat bloomed hotter on my cheeks and I struggled to keep my hands to myself.
“Same thing.”
“Right.” He chuckled.
Jerk.
“I could forgo the hair-tugging and yank on your ears. You know, for old times’ sake.”
I shrugged like it was all the same to me when in actuality, I really wanted to test out his new, longer ’do.
“Baby, when I get my mouth between your thighs you won’t be thinking about where to put your hands. Just that you better hold on.”
“Cocky.”
“Am I wrong?”
No, he wasn’t wrong. In my experience, albeit limited, a man had to like going down on his woman or he wasn’t any good at it. Holden didn’t like it, he loved it. He made an art out of oral sex. There hadn’t been a single time when his mouth was between my legs I hadn’t gone crazy. For him, going down on me wasn’t a prelude to sex, it wasn’t foreplay to work me up, it was all part of the glorious experience. And he’d had no problem waking me up in the middle of the night to get me off with his mouth and fingers, only to roll over and be done without getting anything in return.
Without warning, an unhappy, miserable thought popped into my head. How many women since me had the magnificent pleasure of his mouth?
God, I didn’t want to go there. It was none of my business and the answer would likely make me want to vomit.
“We should go. Jonny’s waiting.”
Holden pulled his head away from my neck and his eyes narrowed.
“What’s put that frown on your face, Leigh-Leigh?”
I shook my head, not wanting to answer.
He studied me a few beats before his hand came up and he stroked my cheek with the back of his knuckles.
“Wish I could tell you there hasn’t been anyone since you. What I can tell you is, I’ve never loved another woman. I’ve never fallen asleep or woken up next to any of them. I’ve never held another woman in my arms and been so content I never wanted to leave. You are the only woman I’ve ever made love to. The only one who I was myself with. Just you, Leigh-Leigh. You’ve always had my heart.”
Damn it all to hell, I didn’t want to cry. I knew there had been others, we’d been apart for a very long time—years and years and years. He wouldn’t have been celibate. But sweet baby Jesus, it hurt hearing it.
“Beyond that, I’m not gonna give you an accounting of the last eight years. All you need to know is none of them were you and, baby, that’s all you need to know. I’ve loved you and only you since the day we met. And if you’re thinking you need to explain or tell me about the men who have been in your life—don’t. I don’t wanna know.”
Well, that was good because it would’ve been awfully embarrassing to admit that while he was getting laid, I was not. There hadn’t been anyone since the night that I’d made my daughter. That was the one and only time I’d ever slept with Paul.
The humiliation of that night hit me. Not only had I drunkenly taken Paul back to my apartment, I’d had sex with him without protection. The next morning, I’d woken up before him with my head pounding. The walk of shame to my bathroom felt like it was ten miles and not the ten feet it really was. When it hit me that Paul was in my bed in only his boxers and I was wearing his t-shirt, I’d nearly burst into tears. Once the shock had worn off, I’d obsessively searched for a condom wrapper. When I didn’t find one, even going as far as rummaging through the trash and looking to see if Paul had taken his wallet out of his back pocket—which