Free Tracing Holland (NSB Book 2) by Alyson Santos

Almost. I’m pretty sure I know what’s happening in Casey’s room right
now.
    The thought makes me smile, then frown as Holland’s face
ruins the moment. Annoyed, I try to shut it out, but the effort only makes it
worse. Now it’s her hair, her eyes, her smile, the pen
in her mouth as she writes in her notebook. Her lips. Her strong, but delicate
fingers as they slide over the smooth wood of my guitar. My body starts to
react. Oh god, not again.
    I curse into the darkness of my room, pounding the mattress
in frustration, but it doesn’t help. She’s still there, burning in my head,
reminding me of how long it’s been since I let another person invade my soul.
Touch me. Since I’ve touched. My body is screaming now, my breath coming harder
as I clench my eyes shut, trying to make it stop. It’s been so long. Too long.
    I bolt up from the bed, guilty, furious, the self-hatred
knocking hard against the wall of my conscience. I don’t even know why or what
I’ve done, I just know I’m sinning against something, someone. I strip off my
shirt, my jeans, everything, and move into the bathroom, turning on the water
to the shower with a rough hand. I’m terrified as I step under the healthy
stream, having no way of knowing if the warm flood will save me or push me over
the edge. There’s no way to be sure, but after a few seconds I realize she’s
still here. She’s followed me from the bed. I lean against the wall, hot tears
burning behind my eyes, my brain desperately fighting against the cries of my
body. I can’t do this, can I? I can’t. I…
    I try to shut her out, but the harder I try, the worse it
gets. Cross-stich. Cross-stich. Cross-stich. No, there’s her laugh. Her
brilliance. The captivating magic of her immersion in the
music. My hand is disobeying my brain now, desperate as it soothes and
stirs, crushing my will, knocking me into total submission to the painful
ecstasy.
    You’re an enigma,
Luke. You’re a dark, beautiful painting locked high on the wall behind a
protective shield of glass.
    Is there a woman on
this planet who could resist you if you wanted her?
    You’re an insanely
talented, walking, talking Greek god bad boy. You even have the sexy accent,
tortured soul thing going on.
    Don’t even pretend
you’re not used to it.
    I gasp, overcome with guilt, with pleasure. My body
collapses against the wall, thanking me and punishing me at the same time. I don’t
move, absorbing the chill from the tile as it bleeds into my back and calms the
raging fire that just wrecked me. I can feel the anger, the guilt, the longing, start to meld together in a twisted knot as my
brain begins to catch up with my young, virile body. I finally push away from
the wall, the tears mixing with the water as I let go and turn my face into the
stream. I hold my breath, not that there was any air left in my lungs.
    Oh god, what have I done?

 
    ∞∞∞

 
    I sit
on the edge of my bed for a long time, haunted by what just happened. Punishing
myself, forgiving myself. I don’t know. I’m not sure I’ve done anything wrong,
but it doesn’t feel right either. I rest my head in my hands, staring at the
floor. I have no idea how to be a good person, what that even means. All I know
is I’m trying, but maybe it’s not enough.
    I also know that I’m actually relieved when my phone lights
up with a text from Casey and Callie letting me know they’re heading to the
beach. Funny how an hour ago I couldn’t imagine leaving this room and now I’m desperate for any reason to escape it.
    The beach sounds great and I respond that I’ll meet them in
the lobby in a few minutes. I pull on some shorts and a t-shirt, casting a
quick glance at myself in the mirror. It’s always fast. There’s almost never
anything there I want to see. I notice my eyes look tired, but that’s to be
expected with our brutal schedule over the last few days. No one will suspect
anything different.
    I take the elevator down to the lobby and