The Auction: Young Adult Romance, New Adult Romance, Forbidden Love (Magnolia Grove Book 1) (3 page)

Even though we didn’t have sex, her rumpled skirt and just-fucked messy hair is gorgeous and breathtaking all at once. While I want more, it almost doesn’t matter if this is most likely going to be a one-time thing because this view will be permanently seared into my memory. I can’t undo seeing her like this, unfeel the sensations of my finger soaked and deep inside her, unhear the sultry sound of her moans, untaste the sweetness of her lips. Inserting my wet finger into my mouth, I suck. Her eyes bulge and she squirms. Yeah, I’ll never be able to untaste her. This is perfect jacking-off material. Much better than any magazine or website. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

She glares at me, then scowls. “You gotta get out of here before he comes.”

Pulling my pants up and fastening them, I shove my hands into my pockets. I plant my feet firmly in place and find myself staring into her feisty, green eyes. Shit, will I ever tire of gazing into them? “Don’t ya think if he were coming, he’d already be here by now?”

Looking away, she crosses her arms over her chest. I imagine if she were naked, she would be covering her breasts in the same way, as if trying to be less exposed to me than she already has been…than she already is. This is my chance to express what I’ve been waiting and needing to say, so I take a step forward. “Can’t you see it, Cam? Can’t you see he’s just using you? That you’re the perfect trophy wife?” Throwing my hands out, I motion to her body, my eyes stopping right on the part I just saw before she lowered her skirt. “You’re so damn beautiful, Cammie, and smart too. Too smart for him.”

Too everything for him.

She shakes her head. “No.” The words are barely audible through her cracked voice. “You don’t know anything about us, Holden.”

But it isn’t enough to make me stop stalking toward her, filling the small gap. She glances at me sharply, so I take a slight step back while putting my hands up. “If he were on fire for you the way I am, Cam, he’d be here.” Her moans are echoing in my ears. I want to taste her again, all of her, but I refrain. “He wouldn’t be able to wait to escape his prick business friends to get his hands on every inch of you. He’d crave you like I crave you right now. He’d want to have his dick inside you every fucking moment possible.”

She shakes her head. “Stop. Just stop.”

I put my finger up. “Shh. Just one more thing.”

She closes her eyes, and I wonder if her body is doing fireworks the way mine is at the connection of our skin touching. I pull my finger away before asking this question. In fact, I take a hefty step back. “As his fiancée, shouldn’t you have known the man you were about to fuck wasn’t him?”

Her eyes well up, and it kills me that the water in them sparkling off the light just makes me want her more. Yet, that I may be the very cause of her tears makes my stomach lurch and my face redden. This isn’t how I planned any of this. This was my chance, and I’ve blown it.

Her chin trembles. “I can’t. I can’t do this. I don’t owe you any explanations.” She narrows her eyes. “You’re an ass, Holden Masters.”

Before I can grab her, pull her into my arms, and plead with her to give me a chance—to let me win her date—she turns, opens the door, and runs away.

The words echo in my mind,
you’re an ass, Holden Masters
.

That’s part of the problem with Cammie. She’s bought the façade I’ve put on for everyone because it’s been easier to hide behind it.

Ass is the last word I’d use to describe myself.

It’s one of many I reserve for Oliver, and I have to find a way to prove it to her before she makes the biggest mistake of her life.

Swiping the tears from my cheeks, I rush through a back door and into the only room that’s probably vacant, the bridal suite.

My heart’s pounding in my chest, and it’s not just from running. The irony isn’t lost on me that in just three short months, I’m supposed to be dressing in this room to marry Oliver.

Closing and locking the door, I fall onto the couch as my shoulders quake, my lungs and throat tighten, and my hands are soaked from the tears that are steadily trickling from my face. How can I go through with a marriage to someone I’ve already betrayed?

It was an accident.

But if I’m honest, I liked the accident.

My chest aches, and I bury my head in a pillow to muffle the cries as my sobs intensify.

Holden’s an ass. He’s a bad-boy heartbreaker. In five minutes he’s already got me crying.

Oliver cares more about his career than me. He would never worship and adore my body the way Holden just did. He never has. And I know it. And when will I stop denying the sparks that Holden ignites in me every time I’m near him?

I further bury my face into the fabric and let out a scream.

Get yourself together, Camellia Olivia. You have commitments, and you can’t break them. Pull it together.

After pushing myself off the couch, I stare into the ornate, wrought iron-framed mirror. My green eyes are puffy, my skin is blotchy, and my cheeks are mascara-stained. I look like a scene from a horror movie.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

I wave my hands in front of my face, then caress my swollen lips, lips that Holden claimed, tugged, and sucked. My body mourned the disconnection from his the moment he placed me back on my feet and released me. Why did he have to wait until I was engaged to do that?

Pacing back and forth, the scene just keeps replaying. The way his tongue was smooth against mine, how his hair slid through my fingers like silk. The way his eyes danced when he sucked his finger that I know had been in me just moments before. My insides quiver.

Dammit.

My hands ball into fists. I should have known by the hair. Did I know? Did I ignore it because I wanted it just as much as he did? Fuck. I just cheated on Oliver, and the lingering question that I keep asking is whether or not I’d change a fucking thing. This is so screwed up.

Pulling a tissue from a box on the bookcase, I dab my face as more tears spill down my cheeks. I’m going to look like a train wreck at the auction. This night has turned to shit. It’s a nightmare. Having planned the cabana fiasco early on, I didn’t bring a purse, which would have had a compact and lip gloss. No, instead, I gave those two things to Oliver to put in his coat pocket, using the excuse of not wanting to be burdened with holding something all night. I roll my eyes. He grumbled something under his breath. I let it go because after I surprised him, he’d understand, right? Wrong.

Now, I have to make my way back to him, hoping he doesn’t notice Holden’s woodsy scent. It’s all I can smell. I can’t tell if it’s on my clothes or just stuck in my nostrils.

That’s another sign I should’ve known it wasn’t Oliver, but I just thought that maybe he decided to wear a new cologne. Pulling a strand of hair to my nose, I inhale. My scalp starts to tingle at the memory of his hand being tangled in my hair.

Stupid, Cammie.

You can’t like his cologne.

And you certainly can’t be tingly at the mere thought of his hands in your hair.

Maybe I could make up some excuse for smelling like a guy, though. What that excuse would be, I have yet to figure out, but I’m quick on my feet. If I can manage that, then perhaps Oliver won’t notice my crazy hair or my imperfect makeup.

I glance at the clock on the mantle over the fireplace. I have five minutes to get my shit together. The auction will be taking place soon, and I’ve yet to tell Oliver what my package is. Club rules smules. While I understand it’s for a good cause, it’s beyond ridiculous that even engaged girls have to participate. Whose idea was that, anyway?

Releasing a few cleansing breaths, I stomp off in an effort to locate my fiancé. But it’s not as hard as I thought because he’s not moved since I left him. My blood starts to boil. Except no one is allowed to see any signs of anger from a woman of my standing. There’s a code of conduct, an expectation of behavior from the wives and fiancées in the country club. It doesn’t matter that it’s 2016, that women are strong and independent. Here, in this setting, we’re defined by our last names and the men who gave them to us.

Plastering a fake smile on my face, I loop my arm in Oliver’s. “Oh, there are you are, darling.” I kiss his cheek, then glance at the guys huddled by his side. “Gentlemen, I’m so sorry to interrupt, would you mind if we have a moment?”

They all smile, but Luke, Oliver’s best friend grins. “Sure thing, Cammie.” He studies me from top to bottom. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you so much. You look exceptionally nice tonight too.” I smile, glancing at Oliver. Surely, there should be a spark of jealousy in his eyes at this exchange with his best friend. Or maybe a look of admiration. Like, hot damn, that’s my girl. But, instead, he gives hand motions to one of the other guys walking away, mouthing something. Then, he has the fucking audacity to glare at me. Based on previous experience, my guess is it wasn’t the comment to Luke that garnered it as much as it was the inconvenience of me busting up his little pow-wow with his friends slash colleagues.

His mouth parts, but my head is about to explode. And my body yearns to be filled. There’s nothing worse than having incredible foreplay and being left dangling. Granted, that was my decision, but that doesn’t take away from the need going unsatisfied. I hold my hand out expectantly. “I just need my compact and lip gloss so I can freshen up before the auction.” I glance away, then back at him. I swear it’s as if he’s looking in through to my soul, like he can see what happened in the cabana, as if my eyes are all-knowing crystal balls that bare my indiscretions. I push my hand out further. “It starts in five minutes, and I need to tell you my package so you make sure to bid on me. A date with someone else would be awkward at best, don’t ya think?” I wait with my palm open, tapping my foot. “Even if it is for charity.”

Oliver drops his arm, thus releasing the one I’d looped into it. He reaches across his chest into his coat pocket, pulling out my things. His eyes are half on mine and half tracking the business associates he chose to kiss ass with instead of screwing me in the cabana. Maybe he wasn’t looking into my soul after all. Maybe all I saw was my own reflection.

Is Holden right? Has Oliver always been this dismissive? Have I only ever received half his attention? Is it obvious to everyone but me?

“Honey, I’m sure I can pick your package out.” Instead of his smile being apologetic like I want it to be, it’s almost smug. “You’re about to be my wife.”

Taking the compact and lip gloss into my hand, I cross my arms across my chest. Even though I know what happened with Holden is between the two of us, damn if it doesn’t feel as if everyone is looking at me, judging me.

When I turn, I realize it’s not everyone. It’s just him. Holden’s crystal blue orbs sparkle against the light like I’ve noticed them to do every year. Even though he’s a jerk, I’ve always found it difficult to look away from them, from him. He’s a special kind of beautiful. The way his dark hair falls across his wide, prominent forehead, how his eyebrows are perfectly arched, and that rigid square jaw line makes me curious as to how it’d feel beneath my tongue.

Seriously?

But Oliver is always clean-shaven, though, so it’s a legit curiosity.

He cocks his head, curves those plush lips into a sly smile, and even the way he’s standing with his ankles and arms crossed oozes sex. Every inch of me quivers.
Snap the hell out of it, Cammie.

Oliver’s voice seems like it’s miles away. “I mean, if you wanna tell me, go ahead. But I really need to finish up my conversation with these guys before the auction starts.”

I shrug my shoulders. He’s right. He should know my package. “Suit yourself.” I give him a quick peck on the cheek before heading to the ladies’ room.

Although, if I am being perfectly honest, it’s not just to refresh my makeup. Every memory at Magnolia Grove involves Holden or his family in some way, and while I’ve always been attracted to him, I’ve never felt quite so discombobulated by him until tonight. Did he really feel those things he said in the cabana?

Burn for me?

Surely it’s nothing more than suggestive words on his behalf. Guys love the chase, the unattainable. I shake my head, needing both mental and physical space from them both, one who seems to be ripping my heart apart, and the other who very well could do the same, but for very different reasons.