In Your Dreams, Holden Rhodes (The Queen’s Cove Series Book 3)
In Your Dreams, Holden Rhodes: Chapter 19

I WOKE up the next morning, thinking about Holden.

Sunlight streamed into the bedroom. Katherine’s old room was feeling like mine, with my clothes strewn everywhere and my paint supplies all over her desk.

Holy shit. I almost came while dry humping. That didn’t happen. Ever. I only came with a vibrator, by myself, on a really good day when I was fully hydrated and well-rested, and even that situation was iffy. If I had a tough day at work or was tired or stressed, no dice.

With a guy? Never. Never ever.

All Holden had to do was grip my ass and work my hips against his, and I was almost there.

This was bad. This was so bad. I didn’t want to think about what this meant.

It was the press of him between my legs that did it. That thick, hard ridge rocking against me scattered my thoughts.

I chewed my lip. The second I had realized what that build of pressure in my lower belly meant, I panicked.

The memory of his stubble scraping against my neck made me shiver in my bed. The way his mouth had taken mine had dragged me underwater, where nothing else mattered except us tasting each other. He had wound me tighter and tighter with his tongue, sweeping into my mouth, kissing me like I’d never been kissed before. Heat built between my legs as I inhaled his scent.

God. His scent. It turned off all the lights in my brain. The second he kissed my neck, I was done.

I cringed and covered my face with my hands. We weren’t supposed to be making out. I wasn’t dating. I wasn’t going to tee myself up for a Grant redo. Grant was perfect, until he really, really wasn’t.

Besides, Holden wanted to get married, and the idea of ever getting involved with that again made my skin crawl.

Get your shit together, I told myself.

Holden didn’t like me. He was probably horny after seeing that huge alien dildo. I groaned in embarrassment and made a mental note to email the company today. Of all the toys they could have mixed it up with, they sent that thing?

Holden’s dark gaze from last night flashed into my head and the apex between my legs ached. I blew out a long breath. That crackly, exciting energy from last night with Holden was because of hormones, those pesky bastards. My hormones told me I needed an orgasm, and Holden smelled good, so they connected the two. If I wanted to avoid more moments like last night, I needed to come, and to come, I needed a vibrator.

I’d pay for rush shipping on the replacement.

Downstairs, I was sipping coffee and staring out the front windows at the ocean when the group of people gathered, staring and pointing at something on the sidewalk. Two people took photos with their phones while the small group watched.

I slipped my shoes on and poked my head outside to see what the fuss was about.

The garbage cans I had rolled out last night were open and garbage was all over the sidewalk. I got closer and gasped at what they were pointing and taking pictures of.

The giant alien dildo lay on the sidewalk.

Alarm spiked in my chest.

“Hi,” I called. My voice had a weird, high-pitched edge to it. “Nothing to see here, people, this was accidentally sent by the company.”

A petite woman straightened up and studied me with interest. She was mid-forties with a bob haircut.

“I’m Miri Yang,” she said. “And you must be Sadie Waters.”

“Hi, Miri Yang,” I told her in a hurry, bending down to pick up the dildo. The man beside her snapped a photo of me reaching for it.

“The raccoons must have gotten into your trash,” the man said before taking a photo of me holding the dildo.

Right. Holden told me to take the garbage out this morning instead of last night. My lips pinched together. I hated that he was right. Thank god he wasn’t here to see this, he’d think it was hilarious.

Miri put a hand on my shoulder. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, Sadie. Sexual exploration can be very exciting.”

My face burned beet red. “It’s not mine,” I repeated with wide eyes. “The company sent it by mistake.”

“Really,” the man beside her insisted. “We don’t sex shame. Miri and I have an erotica book club and honestly,” he jerked his chin at the dildo in my hand, “we read about alien penises all the time. We’re not phased by that thing.” He held a hand out with a big smile. “I’m Don, by the way. I run the Queen’s Cove Daily news blog. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

I hadn’t.

“Nice meeting you all,” I said, shaking his hand before I stalked back into the inn with the gargantuan toy in my hand.

“Don’t be embarrassed of your desires, Sadie,” Miri called. “Your body can do incredible things!”

“Not this body,” I muttered under my breath as I entered the kitchen.

This body couldn’t even come without mechanical help.

Last night was a blip, I had decided. I probably wasn’t even going to get there. My body was tricking me. It didn’t mean anything.

It had been an issue with every guy I’d ever hooked up with. Everyone made it sound so easy. In university, I had listened with discomfort as the girls on my floor had talked about their best orgasms and what worked for them. One girl had orgasmed from her girlfriend playing with her nipples.

With. Her. Nipples.

Today, the thought made me laugh. Ten years ago, I tried not to feel worse and more broken about myself, hearing how everyone had such an easy time with it.

Willa and I had been out for drinks after a painting class in fourth year when the topic came up and I confessed I had never had an orgasm. Or I didn’t think I had. She had gawked at me for a minute before conversation resumed, and the next time I saw her, she discreetly passed me a bag.

I could have kissed Willa for changing my life.

Even Willa didn’t know I faked it with every guy I had ever slept with. I faked it every single time with Grant. In my experience, if a guy couldn’t make me come, he’d stress and worry over it. I’d have to console him and then it would be my problem. Faking it was easier.

I frowned. It was so weird to think of Grant as a real person, when everything I had known about him was fake. His name. His parents probably didn’t even live in Vancouver. Did he even have a dog named Pepsi when he was a kid like he told me?

A thought occurred to me. I was glad Grant wasn’t able to make me come. It was a little piece of myself reserved for me, and after what he had done, I was happy I had kept it safe.

Once I had retrieved a garbage bag from the trash, I tossed the dildo inside and left the bag out by the shed, where the bins normally hung out.

Next garbage day, I’d throw it into the bin first thing in the morning, and never see that thing again.

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