“Holly,” he tries again.

“Hmmmm,” I hum against him, but I don’t give him a chance to reply when my mouth takes over the kiss. The taste of this man is like a drug that I’ve been craving, a drug that will fix a little bit of the broken inside of me.

“Holly,” he rasps out, speaking more firmly this time. He pulls back and breaks the connection. My eyes open and I look up at him with hooded lids. Holy shit, what just came over me?

“Sweetheart,” he sweetly says, sitting back on his haunches.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” I whisper, trying to push past him to run and hide my embarrassment.

“Holly, stop,” he growls. His tone doesn’t stop me, but his hold on my wrist does.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” I rush out, insecure at being pinned down by his stare.

“Do what?”

“Kiss you like that. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I told you I was going to kiss you.”

“Well, yes, but then I completely lost control,” I admit. He smirks, like the idea of me losing control is funny.

“Babe, that was you losing control?”

“Well, if you hadn’t stopped me, I would have probably started humping your leg or something.”

“Humping my leg?”

“Most definitely humping. I may have even started panting,” I joke, and for the first time in months, I laugh at myself. He doesn’t respond and I cringe internally as embarrassment fills me. Just shut up, Holly.

“Did you actually laugh?” he finally asks, taking my chin in his hand, forcing my face to look up at him.

“Umm, yeah?” I pull back, but his hold on my face doesn’t falter. “I’ve laughed before, Sy,” I comment, not understanding the issue.

“You may have laughed before, but Holly, not one of those pathetic half-assed laughs has been real. Haven't heard the real thing in a long fucking time,” he says as a small smile slowly breaks out over his handsome face.

“You missed my laugh?”

“I miss a lot of things, Holly. Some so significant I wouldn’t even know where to begin, but your laugh, the sound of your happiness is something that makes all those significant things hurt a little less.”

The fact this man could be as broken as I am makes our connection solidify.

“You want to leave for that ride?” he asks, leaning back into my space, the smell of mint on his breath reminding me of his addictive taste.

“Not now,” I tell him, letting the pull of his scent drag me in closer.

“Good,” he says, crashing his lips to mine, this time harder. I whimper as his tongue demands entrance. Long gone is the gentleness from before. Now taking my mouth is the same man who took me hard and fast on the floor of my apartment months ago. We’re immersed in kissing, touching and heavy breathing, and it’s the most incredible feeling in the world.

“Holly,” Sy breathes, coming up for air as he lightly kisses along my jaw and down to my neck.

“Yeah?” I manage to say, reaching for his shirt as each connection of our lips pulls me further under his spell.

“I’m not going to fuck you. Not now, ‘cause this is not what this is about,” he says in-between each kiss, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to. Fuck, I want to,” he groans, taking my hand and bringing it to his hardness that's covered in denim. “Believe me, I want to strip you out of these sexy-as-fuck pajamas, and worship every inch of this fucking milky skin, but I can’t,” he growls into my neck when I groan in frustration. “Don’t do that, baby. It’s only going to make this harder.” He pulls back to look at me. “I didn’t start this to go there. I just needed to kiss you.”

“Okay.” A combination of relief and frustration fills me. “So you just want to be friends who kiss?” I ask, trying to get my head around this. I hold back my internal mantra pleading him to say no.

“Fuck no. I want you to be my woman and I want to fuck you so hard that you won’t ever want to be anyone else’s,” he rumbles, making my body yearn for more. “But I also know you’ve got shit going on and I’m not gonna push you.” His thumb traces my bruised lips, his top teeth biting down on his bottom lip when I let my tongue peek out.

“Holly,” he warns, resting our foreheads together.

“Okay,” I agree, knowing this is what we need, what I need. My body might want to move to the next step, but my heart knows that whatever is happening can’t be rushed.

“I don’t want to fuck this up, Holly. So for now, dinners, kissing and when I’m not kissing you, I’ll take you on a ride. But if you ever tell the boys, shit will get serious,” he warns and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. Sy joking, kissing and teasing me is not what I ever expected from him. It might not be wise to let him give me this light when I'm still holding so much back, but I’ve been surrounded by darkness for so long that the small glimmer of hope he offers shines so brightly. I can't help but pray I can find a way out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Sy

I’ll be over at 5pm.

I read my text again for the fifth time before I decide to send it. Fuck it. If it’s coming on too strong, she’ll just have to deal with it.

After spending the day on the bike with Holly last Sunday, I dropped her home and went back to the clubhouse. I threw a few back with the boys and then crawled into bed, replaying the whole day over in my mind. I had no intention at all to drop in to see her, but before I knew it, I made my way to her place and was knocking on her door. I had no idea that our morning would end up the way it did. I knew going into this with Holly that it would be a slow burn, not something like we had in the beginning and I was okay with that. It's not what I want. I want to sink myself inside of her, but fuck me, after that kiss, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I don’t want to rush her; whatever she decides she needs, I’m ready to do. It’s been a long time since I’ve let a woman affect me like this, or given this much away. I know I’m entering new territory, something I never thought I’d see myself doing again, but there is something about her that makes me want to try again. I know one day, if this continues, I’ll need to tell her about my past, let her in on what I live with, but even the thought of letting her in doesn’t sound so bad.