Page 65 of The Inn Dilemma

Holt’s dark gaze roves over my face. The look he wears is completely unreadable for a few moments before realitycrashes around both of us. The blonde harrumphs and struts away. Once she’s out of sight, I jump back from his hold.

Holt’s Adam’s apple bobs, and I can tell he’s trying to keep his gaze fixed on my eyes, but it keeps dipping to my lips as if he wants more of that…more of me. But that doesn’t make sense. We’re friends. Lifelong friends. Lifelong friends who just shared an absolutely incredible kiss.

Involuntarily, I lick my lips, savoring the taste of Holt’s root beer on my tongue, all while trying to ignore the erratic beat of my heart.

“Thank you.” It’s a breathy whisper out of Holt’s absolutely invigorating mouth. Can a mouth be invigorating? Yes, it must be. Because with how amazing I feel right now, I could go run a marathon. Or swim across the Atlantic or some other absolutely ridiculous feat, because my goodness, Holt Graves can kiss.

“For what?” I ask.

His eyes search my face, then he grabs my hand and tugs me forward. His lips land demandingly on mine. I bend to his will without a conscious thought, needing more of this like I need my next breath. To my chagrin, it’s a quick kiss.

“Why me?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why you what?”

I shake my head, not understanding. “Why me for any of this?” I wave my hands around, noticing Holt’s strong arms once again wrapped around me. My hands land clumsily on his shoulders. “I mean, you could have called any of these women over to play the part.”

He smiles, and it’s devastating. “Do you think I go around kissing random women?”

“I don’t know what you do. I didn’t think you went around kissing friends either.”

His eyes darken, and a shiver races up my spine. “Oh, trust me, my SuperNova, there is only one friend I’ve wanted to kiss—” He cuts himself off and his eyes widen.

Warmth fills me. “Only one friend?” I tilt my head. “And who is this friend?”

Leaning forward, his voice barely audible, the warmth of his breath lingers as he says, “I don’t think you need to ask.”

I can’t tear my eyes away from his lips. The scar on the left side of his mouth only enhances my attraction.

As if he knows exactly where my mind has wandered, he says, “You’re the only person who didn’t flinch at my scars.”

“I think your scars are beautiful.” The words are out before I can debate if I should say them.

A flicker of surprise lights up his countenance. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Don’t get cocky. I said your scars are beautiful. You, well…” I want to say something playful or witty, but I can’t. Because it’s then that I see beyond what the other women in town see when they look at Holt Graves. Yes, he’s a good-looking guy—he always has been. I mean, every girl in my class crushed on him through the years. Yes, he’s a war hero, and the idea of being with a SEAL is what some of my favorite romance books are made of. But Holt Graves is more than those things. He’s self-sacrificing. Under his sometimes broody façade, he’s kind and would do anything to help a neighbor in need. His dogs adore him, and rightly so, with how well he cares for them. And the guys know he’d drop everything to be there for them if they needed him.

“I’m what?” he pushes.

“You’re Holt Graves. A war hero.”

He leans back on his stool with his arms still wrapped around me, both of his hands resting on the small of my back as he shakes his head. It feels far more natural than it should. “I’m no hero, Nova.”

“Always so humble,” I tease.

I can feel the other patrons’ eyes on us, but I don’t care. I barely notice.

“And you’re Nova Price. The woman who has always seen me for me. You’re the only person who’s looked at me and made me forget my scars. When you look at me, it’s as if you’re seeing me as I was and not the broken man I am now.”

Compassion washes over me. “You’re not a broken man, Holt. Far from it. You’re a hero. To those people you saved, to this country…to me.”

His eyes are on my mouth as his chest rises and falls hurriedly. “You weren’t supposed to be so good at that.”

My lips tingle at his praise.“At what?” I say, playing stupid.

“Kissing,” he replies simply before leaning down.

“I’m leaving,” Reese says behind me just before Holt’s lips can touch mine once more.

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