Page 90 of Protect Thy Enemy

Instead, I sit there, shaking my thigh like it’s the only thing keeping me steady, and try to convince myself that I imagined it.

Chapter Thirty

Arden

The house is silent, a rare luxury I plan to savor, since Holden’s gone to pick up the senator.Thank God for that.I have the entire place to myself. He can stay brooding and insufferable all he wants; I’m not in the mood for his sharp blue eyes cutting into me like I’m the source of all his problems.

And I’m not complaining. Not really. His absence is a reprieve, and I intend to make the most of it. Tonight’s gala will demand more patience than I have in reserve, especially with him by my side. For now, though, this is my time.

I step into the bathroom, lighting a few candles without much thought. The warm glow reflects off the tiles, softening the edges of the space and giving it a cocoon-like feel. Steam curls in the air as I fill the tub, the faint scent of lavender rising with the heat.

The tension in my body melts away the second I slip beneath the water, the warmth wrapping around me like a balm. I let my head fall back against the edge, closing my eyes, willing myself to shut out the world.

But the world has other plans.

Or, more accurately, he does.

Holden Grant’s face is seared into my thoughts, and no amount of lavender or candlelight can erase the memory of his hands on my body, his mouth claiming me like it was a right. My skin tingles at the phantom sensation of his fingers tracing every inch of me, the way his voice drops to a low growl as he whispers my name like a prayer and a curse.

I curse under my breath, but it doesn’t help. The memory is relentless, vivid in a way that makes my pulse quicken and my thighs press together beneath the water.

This is ridiculous.

But no matter how much I try to push it away, the thought of him keeps pulling me under. My fingers trail across my collarbone, down my chest, and over the curve of my breast. My breath hitches as my fingers move lower, the warmth of the bath doing little to disguise the fire building inside me.

I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t let him have this power over me, even in my own head.

But my body betrays me.

My eyes flutter shut as my hand dips beneath the water, my touch slow and tentative at first, but growing bolder as the memory of him takes over. I imagine his hands instead of mine, his roughness, his control. The ache deepens, spreading through me like molten heat, and I bite my lip to stifle a moan.

“Don’t stop.”

His voice cuts through the haze, dark and commanding, and my eyes fly open.

Holden.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, his broad shoulders casting a shadow across the candlelit room.

His blue eyes are dark and dangerous, filled with something raw and primal that makes my breath catch.

I scramble to cover myself, the water sloshing around me, but his gaze pins me in place.

“I said don’t stop,” he repeats, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Holden,” I whisper, my voice shaky, a mix of shock and something else I can’t name.

He steps closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. The air between us crackles with tension, and my heart races as he stops just short of the tub, his gaze never leaving mine.

“You started this,” he says, his tone velvet and steel. “Don’t stop now.”

The sheer audacity of his words should make me angry. It should make me tell him to get the hell out. But instead, it sends a rush of heat through me, the weight of his stare igniting something dark and reckless inside me.

My hand trembles beneath the water, but I don’t move, my body frozen under the intensity of his gaze.

“Keep going, Arden,” he murmurs. “Show me.”

The room feels smaller, the air heavier, and my pulse pounds in my ears as I realize I’m going to obey him. Against all logic, against everything I know about him and myself, I let my hand move again.

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