Page 19 of Sunday's Best

Logan won’t be back for hours, I doubt Holden will either—he’s probably going to sleep in the truck just to avoid me—and I know my magic wand will do the trick. The Emasculator, as Logan calls it. He’d hate to know I even brought it, which makes sliding it out of the velvet bag that much more satisfying.

I prop myself on pillows, fanning my damp hair out across them, and settle in with the image of Holden kissing me on replay in my mind. In my version, instead of pulling away, he makes good on those salacious glances he gives when he thinks I’m not paying attention.

Palming the vibrator, I pretend it’s the smooth head of his cock trailing down my stomach, teasing the touch-starved apex of my thighs. I don’t even try to picture someone else. It’s my fantasy, and I refuse to judge myself for it.

My thumb locates the raised power button, and a gentle buzzing fills the air. With a sated sigh, I slip the vibrating end through my wetness and up to my clit. A hoarse moan claws its way out of me, and I frantically pull the vibrator away—the sensation so intense from the subtle edging I’ve given myself all day, I’m sure I’ll come in half a second if I don’t let up. And I want to savor this for as long as I can.

Panting, I wait for the sparks and heat in my thighs to dissipate before immersing myself in the daydream again. Holden’s frenzied kiss, the drag of his lip down my neck. Shit, I wish it was his tongue on my clit right now.

“Fuck,” I grit out, clutching one of the pillows in my free hand and stuffing it into my gaping mouth.

I hear the groan of the front steps and the creak of the door, but I’m floating too high above my own body to react in time. Panicked, I throw the vibrator and grab the nearest blanket to cover myself.

It’s too late.

Holden’s already there, staring at me.

My important bits are covered, more or less, but he saw enough. And if by some miracle he didn’t, the mysterious buzzing noise filling the tiny trailer and my flushed, shell-shocked look of humiliation surely give me away.

Holden shoves his hands in his pockets and swallows hard, dragging his gaze over me.

“Oh, hi,” I squeak through a forced smile. “I… uh…”

“Long drive tomorrow. Thought I’d get to bed early.” He’s still staring at me. I wish he wouldn’t. Either climb onto the bed and take care of the ache you put between my legs, or leave so I can.

“I’ll give you a minute to get yourself together.” With a loud exhale, he turns and steps back outside.

The second he’s gone, I’m tearing apart the mess of tangled blankets to find the fucking vibrator, then I switch it off and shove it back into the bag. This is what I get for imagining my boyfriend’s brother while I masturbate—a serious case of the lady equivalent of blue balls.

The embarrassment burning in my veins makes me too hot for proper pajamas, so I opt for nothing but an oversized T-shirt. I turn off the light and slide into bed, then pull out my phone and start looking up bus fares. I’m done. I need to get the hell out of here. Maybe even tonight.

Holden

Are you decent?

When Logan insisted Holden and I swap numbers in case of emergency, I don’t think this is what he had in mind.

Sunday

Yeah. Sorry for that.

Holden

You could’ve locked the door, you know?

Naturally, he uses this as a moment to remind me that I’m an idiot.

I gulp and pull the covers over my head at the sound of Holden opening the front door. Without a word, he walks softly through the dark trailer and into the bathroom. A few seconds later, I hear water running, and shortly after that, he’s slipping back into the shared space. I don’t move a muscle.

The sofa bed squeaks and blankets rustle. He punches the pillow in the way he always does to fluff it up for sleep, then everything goes still. Outside, partygoers are hooting and hollering, with music cranked to an obscene level. Inside, it’s pitch black and the only sound is the almost-silent whir of the fridge.

Holden

I’m glad you didn’t

My breath catches in my throat. Surely he couldn’t mean⁠—

Holden