Chapter 217: Big Brother My Ass

Holly’s POV

One week later and I’ve almost fully recovered.

My arm is still in a stupid cast, my ribs ache when I laugh (which hasn’t happened much), and the cut on my forehead is scabbing over like a tiny war wound.

Kayla seized my phone the second she got to where I was, and kept it powered off the entire time I was trapped in that hospital bed. “Detox,” she called it. “From every stupid obsession and everyone.”

Every single night since that day, I dreamed of David. The same loop…the party, the word he spat like acid, the way the room tilted when I ran, the cold pavement, the headlights.

And then…God help me…the dream was always twisted.

Sometimes, I was on my knees again, begging him. Actually begging him to ruin me. Voice cracked, tears streaming, fingers clawing at his belt while he looked down at me with that cruel, beautiful mouth curved in victory.

What kind of pathetic person am I?

I told myself that was rock bottom.

I told myself I was done. My suitcase was already packed, booked the red-eye to L.A., rehearsed the goodbye speech to Mr. Norman and everyone in the mirror until my reflection got bolder.

And to think I am pathetic, craving a man who obviously loathes me. I’d had enough and decided that it was the end.

I thought I already sorted my feelings out, until I walked into the office to hand in my resignation… and there he was.

One look. One single look at that tousled dark hair, the rolled sleeves showing corded forearms, the stubble he clearly hadn’t bothered with this morning, and every promise I made myself turned to smoke. My knees went liquid. Heat flooded straight between my thighs like someone flipped a switch.

No, Holly. Dignity. Self-respect. Remember those words? Kayla rehearsed it with you.

My body laughed at the effort to look nonchalant. I don’t even think I can spell those words right now.

I made the announcement about my resignation, and the room gasped like I’d announced a murder.

Everyone except him.

David didn’t gasp. He went statue-still, the color draining from his face so fast I thought he might actually pass out. His eyes…those storm-gray eyes that used to cut me to ribbons…were wide, frantic, pleading. His hands opened and closed at his sides like he couldn’t decide whether to reach for me or strangle the air.

My heart stuttered. Could it be that he sees me now? Really see me?

Don’t be delusional, Holly. He’s David Hunt. He called you a whore in front of strangers and you almost died because of him. He doesn’t get to look wrecked now.

Mr. Norman took my hand like I was made of marshmallow and sugar. “Holly, sweetheart, talk to me. Did David say something again? We can surely fix whatever it is.”

I smiled the polite, empty smile I’d perfected in front of mirrors. “It’s nothing personal, Mr Norman. Griffin’s contract is secured with or without me. I just…need to go home.”

David moved so fast the room blurred. One second he was across the office, the next his fingers were locked around my good wrist and he was dragging me through the doorway muttering, “Please excuse me. Give us a minute.”

The door slammed. The lock clicked.

And suddenly it was just us.

He backed me up until the wall met my spine…gentle, careful, like he was terrified of hurting the bruises he hadn’t even asked about yet. His palms planted on either side of my head, caging me in. Six-foot-three of pure muscle and regret trembling like a live wire.

Up close he looked like hell. Gorgeous, exhausted hell. Dark circles, red-rimmed eyes, jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grind.

He inhaled like a man drowning. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked.

“Holly… I messed up. I’m sorry. You don’t have to leave because of me.”

The apology hit me like a slap and a caress at the same time. I reacted on instinct, swung my good hand and cracked it across his cheek. The sound echoed.

“I nearly died because of you!” The words ripped out raw, ugly, shaking. “Do you think I’m crazy? That I’ll just forgive you?”

He didn’t even flinch. Just closed his eyes like my palm was a direct line to his conscience. When he opened them again they were glassy.

“Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore,” he rasped, pushing off the wall and stalking to the window. Sunlight carved sharp edges across his profile. “All I know is I can’t—” He stopped, throat working. “Stay. Just…stay a little longer. Let me fix it. Then you can go. I swear.”

Fix it. Like I was a cracked vase he could glue back together and put on a shelf.

“No, Mr. Hunt. Thank you for the offer.”

I turned for the door, legs trembling, pulse roaring in my ears. My hand was on the knob when his arms banded around my waist from behind and yanked me back against his chest. Hard.

Possessive. His heart thundered against my spine.

His mouth brushed my ear, breath scorching. “Holly…”

He spun me, crushed me to him…chest to chest, hips to hips…and bent his head. His lips ghosted over mine, barely there, asking, teasing, promising sin.

I felt the groan he swallowed back, felt the way his fingers dug into my waist like letting go would kill him. I jerked away at the last second and slapped him again. So hard that my palm stung.

His eyes went dark, dangerous. “Holly,” he warned, voice gravel and smoke. But I wasn’t scared.

“You want to kiss me so you can laugh about the desperate little whore later?” I hissed, shaking with fury and want so fierce it scared me. “Are there cameras, David? Tell me.”

He flinched like I’d shot him. “Jesus, no. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Holly.” He dragged both hands through his hair until it stood wild. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I just—” He blew out a breath that shook. “Truce. Let me make it right. Let me…be the big brother I’m supposed to be. Take care of you. You can decide to leave when I’m done apologizing.”

Big brother?

The words landed like ice water and gasoline at the same time.

I saw it then…the lie flickering behind his eyes. The way his gaze dropped to my mouth and stayed there, hungry. The way his thumb brushed my waist like he couldn’t stop touching.

Big brother, my ass. When did his gaze change from cold to warm when looking at me anyway?

He was drowning in me and too terrified to admit it. And God forgive me, I wanted to pull him under.

I let a slow, wicked smile curve my lips as I masked my excitement. “Of course,” I whispered, stepping close enough that my breasts brushed his chest. I felt him shudder. “I would love that.”

I rose on tiptoe, let my lips hover a breath from his ear. “I would like that… very much.”

His arms tightened involuntarily, a low sound rumbling in his throat.

Game on, big brother.