The Auction (Magnolia Grove #1) - SERIES COMPLETE

Chapter 5 - {Holden}

WAS I THE one to upset her or was it just all too much? I'm thinking this heaviness in my chest is probably what it feels like to be an asshole. Except, I'm watching Oliver, who has me trumped. He's resumed business talk with his buddies, as if nothing's happened, as if no one is missing from this goddamn table.

I narrow my eyes, clenching my jaw. Is sitting on his ass all he knows how to do? Did no one teach him that when a girl runs away she wants to be chased? Since Oliver fails to move a muscle, refusing to go after her, then maybe I'll use this to my advantage. I will. I knew he was a special kind of douche. But this. This is just mind fuckin' blowing.

I have plenty of money, no thanks to my father. I couldn't care less about social standing. This is probably all thanks to my dad. I learned long ago that none of this shit, that no amount of money, is worth much if you sacrifice the ones you love for it. At every function, I've watched Oliver climb the business ladder, acquiring more and more clout, all the while dismissing Cammie like she's a shiny object with no brains or feelings. I squeeze my fists together in my lap, resisting the urge to jerk him up by his collar and use him as a punching bag. There's no one who deserves attention more than her, and it's clear, just like all the other times, Oliver chooses his own interests over Cammie's. Every. Damn. Time.

Pushing the chair out from the table, I drop the cloth napkin on my plate, but grab Cammie's meal. I've had plenty of time to eat, but she's barely had a bite. To think that all this time, I've thought I had to wait until the date to show her she's made a mistake. The minute we locked lips in the cabana, my plan has been somewhat thwarted, but in the best of ways. She can deny she experienced any pleasure from our tryst, but she definitely responded to me. There was no doubt she was turned on.

I'll find her, feed her, make sure she gets enough so she doesn't pass out, and I'll try really hard not to pressure her. Even if I held the same professional position as Oliver, I'd never put my business dealings, or anything else, above her feelings. Above her. In fact, I can't imagine any priority or obligation being important enough to cause her pain. This is my chance to demonstrate that I have a kind heart because, unbeknownst to most, I do.

Unfortunately, I've been so busy watching Oliver I didn't see the direction she headed. Logic tells me she's at one of two places: the restroom or the cabana. The bathroom would be packed, though, so my better guess is on the last place we were alone.

My strides are long and brisk. As soon as the cabana is within sight, I see the door isn't completely shut. My instinct, once again, is spot-on. Grinning, I tap on the door before entering. "Cam, it's me."

"I obviously wanted time alone. So, fuck off."

Damn. "You've got quite the potty mouth these days." I chuckle. "It's fucking hot as hell, but I told myself I'd be quiet, so I'm gonna shut up now and just come in. You don't have to talk. You don't have to act like I'm here, but you need to eat somethin'."

She doesn't say anything, so I push the door open, closing and locking it behind me. "Here," I say, offering her the plate.

Her chin lifts and we're staring into each other's eyes, a standoff of sorts. She offers a small smile, which her furrowed brows contradict. Over the years, I've memorized her facial expressions, but I'm not sure if she's glad to see me. Or not. "Thank you, but I lost my appetite a long time ago."

"You need to eat. Just a few bites. Don't make me beg more than I already have tonight."

She's on the sofa, her elbows resting on her knees, glaring at me. "I thought you said you were going to be quiet."

Pulling a chair over, I place it in front of her, then sit down. "I said I would be quiet while you ate. If you're not going to eat, I'm gonna annoy the hell out of you till you do." I slice a piece of the filet, jab it with the fork, and offer it to her. "Want me to shut my mouth, then open yours."

Cammie's lips barely part, close, and then open again. She leans forward, accepting the delicate morsel. Atta girl.

While she chews that, I honor my promise to keep quiet. I cut the rest of the meat into pieces. I inch closer, offering her another bite. She moves closer too. Soon, we're mere inches from each other. Her warmth, her flowery, sweet scent makes me reposition myself in the chair to keep my raging hard-on at bay. When I notice she has something in the crevice of her lips, instead of offering a handkerchief—like a gentleman would do—I gently brush my finger over the spot. I never said I was a gentleman. Or did I? I don't care. I just want to touch her, to suck those lips until they're swollen. I want to taste every bit of her mouth with mine.

Fuck.

I refuse to kiss her again after what happened earlier. I thought she wanted it then, but now, the only way that's going to happen is if she initiates it or asks for it. But even with that said, there's no way in hell I'm backing away, giving her any space. I'm staying put right where I am hoping she'll be the one to beg me to finish what we started earlier.

I follow her eyes as they wander to the framed photo of our families near the entry. She's standing with her brother, mom, and dad. Violet, my baby sister, and I are in front of Mom and Dad. Those were the good ole days. So good it hurts like a bitch. Her face tightens and her eyes squint. Seeing that picture, that look on her face, works better than a cold shower.

"Thank you for bringing me food. That was really sweet." She stands and points to the door. "I should probably go."

Focus, Holden. I put the plate down and close the small amount of distance she put between us. "Do something for me the next couple of weeks until our date, will you?"

Her head tilts. "What's that?" The crease I've seen on her forehead most of the night disappears.

I brush a stray piece of hair away from her eye. It's so fucking soft. Her breath hitches, and so does mine. "Really observe how he treats you, Cammie. I mean, think long and hard about whether you can be happy for the rest of your life with him." Shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from grabbing her head and pulling her into a kiss, I take a step back. "Even if you decide after our date you still want nothing to do with me. I just want you to be happy, Cam. And I don't think you are." What I want to say is that I want to be the one to make her happy, to please her in every way, to be the name she screams when she's falling over the edge of ecstasy, but I can't be responsible for her frowns and tears any more than I already have been tonight. My family has caused hers enough anguish. I don't want to be the cause of her confusion, but rather the spark that lights the path to clarification for her. I want her decision to be abundantly clear, preferably before our date, not after.

She doesn't say anything. She just swallows, nodding before unlocking the door, opening it, and walking out. Twice tonight I've had to watch her leave me, and that's not something I want to get used to. That, or the heaviness that resides in my chest each time. But I've done what I came to do. Hell, I've done far more than I could've dreamed. I tasted her lips. We did the dance of lovers. And I fucking won her auction. Now, the only thing left to do is win her heart.

No pressure.