Holly Madison (Sins of the Father, 2) (7 page)

“What’chu gotta take your time for?  You already had sex with him.  You ain’t foolin’ no one,” Charlena declares.

My head leans against the back of the couch and my eyes search the ceiling.  For what, I have no clue.

Olivia interrupts my thoughts with her own two cents, “All I know is that, for the past year that I’ve known you, I can tell that you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.  You’re smart, successful, beautiful, and sexy as all get out.  I just don’t want my brother to take any of that light out of you.”

Well, hell.

“This Tristan fella sounds hot, hot, hot!” Of course that came from Curtis. 

I really need another margarita for this.  I lean over to grab the pitcher of margaritas Emma made for us a little while ago and pour some of its contents into my empty glass.  I feel all eyes on me.

That’s when Emma decides to speak.  “Look, I have seen you refuse to get wrapped up in anything other than work for so long that I can’t stand it any longer.  Sure, maybe Tristan has had his fair share of women and bad decisions, but honey, when he came to see me, he was there to talk about you.  He isn’t the type to settle down and chase after a woman, but with you…”  She shakes her head and smiles.  “With you, he’s willing to give it a go.”

“Oh shit.  You sayin’ Tristan…Tristan Holt is serious about our girl?  No shit?” Charlena mutters.

“No shit,” Emma replies with a nod and a great big smile on her face.

Charlena sits back in her chair.  “What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on that boy.  He’s got it all.  The eyes, the voice, the hair, and an ass that damn near waves at me every time he walks by.  Shit, girl.  I would sell my soul to the devil just to be able to run my tongue down those rock-hard—“

“Oh my god!”  Olivia shrieks. 

Charlena leans in and quietly murmurs, “Those tattoos and massive forearms are enough to make any woman wanna jump his bones.”

Sweet Jesus. 

“Anyhow, the problem with him is the fact that he has never sowed his wild oats.  Has he ever taken you out on a proper date?  Has he ever splurged for a decent meal?  Has he ever sent you flowers?  Does he ever answer the phone when you call?  Or does it go to voicemail? 

“I bet you answer him immediately, don’t you, girl?  Mmmmhmm…”

She’s absolutely right about the phone calls, and before, it was always me calling him, me asking him if he wanted to hang out, me showing up in sexy lingerie at his studio as a surprise (which didn’t go over so well before). But lately, he has stepped up and taken on some of those key points.

So I tell her that.  “That’s not true.  He’s been stepping up.  He took me on a nice date the other night.  He also told me that he wants to do things right and see it through.” 

“Oh boy,” Charlena utters. 

“Oh boy is right,” Olivia whispers.  

Emma sits there quietly with a big shit-eating grin on her face.

“Here’s what you gotta do,” Charlena begins.  “You have to learn to play it cool.  Let him take the lead on this.  Don’t display it all out there for him on a platter.  Give him just a little appetizer here and there.  Make him want more.  Make him crave what you got.  I know that he’s a walking, talking piece of hot ass.  But you gotta play it cool.”

“Charlena—“I try, but she isn’t done.

“Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope.  Girl, listen to me.  You are around him every chance that you get.  Now, you’re even taking self-defense classes at his panty-melting, hot-boys fight club downtown.  Slow your roll.  Let him come to you.”

“Sweetie—“I try once more only to get cut off again.

“You can’t live this fantasy in your head, thinkin’ he’s the man of your dreams.  Your muthafuckin’ prince on a white horse when he has never once treated you like the princess that you are.  Don’t let your mind play tricks on you.  This ain’t no Disney happily ever after.  This is real life and shit.”

“Amen, sista!” Olivia exclaims.

I bring my glass to my lips and drain the rest of my margarita.  If I’m not careful, I am going to be tanked at a baby shower.  I look at the contents scattered across the table and realize,
What the hell am I so worried about?
 There are sex toys surrounding a baby shower table topper.  This isn’t a normal baby shower—or a normal group of females for that matter. 

“We all want the best for you,” Emma says. 

Olivia nods and Curtis claps, which is followed by an, “Mmmmhmmmm…” out of Charlena. 

I look around to see that all eyes are on me—still.  I nod and whisper, “I know.”

“Good.  Now that you do”—she lifts up a pink dildo and waves it at me—“let’s see what we can do about getting you some orgasms.  Maybe, if you can help yourself out for a change, you’ll leave that man alone and he can come seekin’ you out.”

I nibble my lower lip. 

Emma grabs my arm.  “Listen, sweetie.  No one can tell you what to do or how to feel.  What Charlena is telling you is sound advice, especially for a man like Tristan, but I have to say that the conversation we had was genuine.  That boy is into you—badly.  Sure, he comes with his own set of baggage.  No one is perfect.  Just because he has some doesn’t mean that he isn’t right for you.”

“Babe—“

Emma shakes her head and tightens her grip on my arm.  “Let me finish.  I am your best friend, so it’s my job to look out for you—just like you have always done for me.  That’s exactly what I’m going to do.  Don’t let these two talk you out of something you see potential in.  Tristan may not be the ideal person for many, but I think that you see far more than what he shows everyone else.  I think that he has opened himself up more to you than to most, and it’s up to you if you would like to explore that further.  You are beautiful, funny, and so damn sweet.  I love all of that about you, and I’m fairly certain that is what Tristan appreciates in you as well.”

I shake my head because I know she’s not done. 

“You have a bright future.  Visions of white picket fences, puppies frolicking in the yard, and two point three children dancing in your head.  That is not the same vision he has for his future.  You have to take that into consideration.”

“Mmmmm…hmmmm!  Preach!” 

My eyes meet Charlena, who is examining one of her bullets that Olivia calls, “the best orgasm you can give yourself, yo!”

“Honey…”  Olivia is getting ready to shower me with her wisdom.  I brace myself for this hit I am sure to get.  “He started this thing up with you as a lay.”  She gives me the hand.  “I know that was harsh, but it’s the truth, yeah?  It sounds like he has eyes for you, and no, I have never seen this out of him before.  We just don’t want to see you get chewed up and spit out like yesterday’s garbage.  You’re better than that.  He’s my bro and I love him.  I also know him.  He’s already mistreated you, and yes, punching him in the nose was a great way to get him to wake the fuck up.  I don’t want to see him do that to you again.”

I stare at her and know exactly what she is saying.  This is definitely a possibility.  My belly gets tight and I feel the unease creep into my thoughts.  Then my entire body goes rigid.  I am done having this conversation. 
Time to move on.

“I need a drink,” I grind out through clenched teeth.  

Emma’s hand, which is still gripping my arm, tightens. “Holly.”

No.
  I pull my arm free and feel all eyes burning into me.  “I need a drink,” I repeat. 

“You sure you need another one?  You been suckin’ back them margaritas as if that was the last of the tequila on the planet and limeade has been discontinued,” Charlena points out.

Damn.  What’s up with them being right tonight?

“Anyone else want one?” I ask the room.

“Holly, babes—“Olivia starts, but I turn and rush through to the kitchen. 

There, I mix up a new batch of margaritas, snag another water for Emma, and rejoin them for another hour of presents for the mom-to-be, laughs, and sex toy shopping.  And can I tell you how much fun sex toy shopping with a gay man is?  Well, it is a blast.  I walk away with a couple of much-needed orgasm-inducing gizmos.

Hanging out with that gaggle of females can be emotionally taxing.  After leaving the baby shower, I decided to come straight home and finish off the evening with a relaxing bubble bath and a good book.

I step out of the much-needed bubble bath and wipe the fog off of the mirror with my towel.  I’m five foot seven without heels, and I have golden-brown hair and brown eyes.  I’m not skinny, but I’m fit.  I’ve never had a complaint about my body.  My long legs are my most famous attributes.

I was born and raised in Spartanburg, South Carolina, thirty years ago to Elizabeth and Joshua Hart.  I never had siblings.  My father landed himself in a cell when he killed a woman one night.  Yes, this story just got a little more interesting.  My life wasn’t the perfectly put-together kind of life everyone assumes I lived upon seeing me now.

I did well in school and had friends once my mother moved us to Saluda where I met Em.  Before that and after my father went to prison, it was rough.  People were mean to us.  They treated us like we were the ones who had killed that poor woman, and for a long time, I believed that I had.  Or at least believed that I had a big part in doing so.

Mom did well for herself.  It was tough at first for her, having to raise me on her own and going from a single-family home in the city to an apartment building in the ‘burbs.  She took on a job at the bank in Henderson, which is about fifteen miles down Interstate 26.  She worked her way up into management and now gives out loans while making a decent living.

Life was pretty comfortable and drama-free until about a year ago when everything went down with Emma’s dad and the rape.  This chain of events catapulted me into a different life.  One that I was happy to adjust to seeing as it was for my best girl.  I moved her into my apartment and took care of her.  Braden had a big hand in her recovery, which was amazing to watch. 

Then Tristan happened. 

There went my quiet, comfortable life.  He’s far from anyone I would have ever given a chance to.  Not my typical ‘safe guy.’  See, I have always dated the guy who lives by a set of rules.  Normally, the same set I live by.  Tristan doesn’t have rules, and that is where my comfy little world went up in a puff of smoke.

Now, every wall I have carefully built out of stone is slowly crumbling to the ground with each time that I see him.  I don’t know what it is. 

Charlena is right.  He doesn’t even attempt to treat me like a princess, yet I am strangely compelled by him.  It’s not like me to go after someone so unattainable.

The minute I met Tristan Holt, I fell in love with him. 

I know what you’re thinking. 
How is that possible?  Girl, are you stupid?
  Trust me.  Those are the things that run through my head all of the time. 

Anyway, we secretly started seeing each other.  Okay, maybe not necessarily ‘seeing each other,’ more like sleeping with each other. 

I am such a whore. 

After our first self-defense class, when Emma freaked on everyone, I went back to see him. I needed comfort of my own.  Emma had Braden. 

I had no one.

He was kind and gentle—until I didn’t want him to be anymore.  Then he was hard and rough but attentive.  I’d never known a man to take care of me before he took care of himself.  It was the most amazing experience of my life.  It’s like he knew my body better than I did.  Our bodies melded together as one and moved in perfect harmony before he took me and claimed me as his own. 

Every time I am with him, I feel like a woman being clubbed in the head by a caveman.  I guess that’s where everything got all screwed up.  I was overthinking the situation.  He didn’t have those same feelings.  Sure, he was right.  We never put a name on it or decided to call this an exclusive relationship.  Now, he wants to try for more.

I’m not quite sure how I feel about this yet, but what I do know is that my body hums by the time he is done with me. 

I have needed more ever since.  I think I may be in trouble with this one.