Page 77 of The Inn Dilemma

The moment the words are out of my mouth, his arms go around me and he pulls me against his firm chest. His heart hammers beneath my hand that’s splayed there.

First, he kisses my forehead, then my temple, before landing on my lips. He moves his right hand to cup the side of my face, his thumb gently tilting my head up for better access to my mouth. His lips are a heady mixture of sweet tea and mints, the pressure making my knees weak and my head spin.

His lips work in perfect sync with mine, as if he can anticipate my next move, and he flawlessly tilts his head, firms the pressure, and splays his hand across my back as his hand slides down to cup the side of my neck. Our first and second kisses were incredible. But this one. This kiss. This purposeful kiss has thrown every kiss I’ve sharedwith any other man out the window. Beau? Beau who? It’s Holt. Everything is Holt.

This kiss is life. I don’t want to kiss any other man for the rest of my days. Holt wants me for me. Not because of how I can make him look in public, to uphold an image, but because he wants me.

I curl my hands around his flannel and press my body fully against his until I hear a low rumble from deep in his chest. Slowly, he pulls back until he rests his forehead against mine. Both of us are out of breath.

“You are even more beautiful freshly kissed.” He stares down at me, tucks a strand of hair behind my ears, and slowly runs his finger down my face until it traces the lines of my mouth. “These lips...” He finishes his sentence by working his own lips over mine again until I’m melted on the spot and whimpering at the emotions flooding my entire being.

As he pulls back, both eyes closed, a smile on his face, my chest constricts. He opens his eyes and gazes at me with a stare that isn’t full of lust, as I’d usually expect, but adoration. A lifetime of friendship that’s blossomed into something beautiful.

I shyly reach up and stroke down the side of his face, loving the way his scruff feels against my skin.

Holt slides his hand across my jaw, his thumb strokes my cheek, and his expression shifts to one of concern.

“What’s wrong?” He lifts his other hand so he’s cupping the sides of my face, brushing his thumbs across both of my cheekbones.

“Absolutely nothing. I don’t remember having my heart feel so full, free, and safe.”

“Then why are you crying?”

I swallow the lump in my throat and blink, noticingfor the first time the wetness in my eyes. Shaking my head, I answer, “I don’t know. These aren’t sad tears though. I promise. These must be tears of joy.”

He gently tightens his grip on my face and leans down while I rise up to kiss him again and again. We move across the room until my back hits the window seat. Holt lifts me up so I’m sitting on the cushion I just put there. We kiss for endless minutes, exploring the depths of this new relationship that feels as natural as breathing. It’s as if we’re making up for lost time. Holt kisses me as though he’s weeding out the superficial kisses of my past. And I kiss him back with purpose, showing him how wanted—no, needed—he is by me. That what I feel for him isn’t puppy love or some superficial experience but something I want to fall into day after day. For the rest of my life.

The thought takes my breath away, and I pull back.

He looks down at me. “What’s wrong?”

I place my hands on his chest, loving the feel of his strength beneath my fingertips and how his pulse thuds against my palms.

“I-I think.” I shake my head. “I think I’m?—”

Holt kisses me again and pulls back just enough to mutter, “I’m in love with you too. I’ve known for a while now.”

My arms slide up his chest to circle around his neck. “You’ve known you were in love with me for a while?”

“Since the moment I saw you sitting on your couch with a cookie hanging out of your mouth as you painted your toenails.”

“Squatting slobs do it for you, huh?”

My words are meant to be playful, but instead of laughing, his eyes darken and his entire demeanor takes on a whole new intensity. “You, Nova Price, do it for me.”

I cover my face with both hands but he gently peels them away. “Don’t hide from me and don’t be embarrassed in front of me. I love all of you. Everything about you. You are what I want. What I need in this life, and Lord willing, the next.”

My eyes fill with more tears, and I thank God that these tears aren’t of sadness or from feeling inadequate, but instead are ones of unadulterated joy and gratefulness. Then I thank Him for Holt and giving him to me even though I don’t deserve his love.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Nova

Icrack up as Clover huffs at Thor’s antics over the intercom system in our helmets. It helps deter the fluttering in my belly as Holt pulls us to a stop at a red light and reaches back to cover my thigh with his hand. I’m already clinging to him, feeling the strength of him beneath his leather coat, but the way his hand grips my leg feels like the most right thing I’ve ever experienced. We’ve spent every possible waking minute together for the last two weeks.And each of those minutes makes life even better.

The roar of our biker group is deafening, and the sound sends goosebumps down my arms. This ride is exactly what all of us needed. Thanks to this group and several other members of the Rocosa community, the Storybook Inn is officially clean, updated, and most importantly—inhabitable. We’re surprising the crew with a pizza party bonfire complete with s’mores and hot chocolate at the Storybook Inn once we finish our ride.

“Make a left up ahead,” Holt announces over themic.

---