Rough (RRR #2) by Kimball Lee

young lady had to hear it. You know the score with me, Holt— I’m fucked up seven ways from Sunday. Emmy, it’s all about Emmy and that summer, the shit that went down, her leaving me the way she did…. Can we get past this? I value your friendship and count on you to put me in my place when it’s called for, like you did just now.”
    “Sure,” Holt says, he says but his jaw is still clenched and his brows are drawn together in frustration. He strips off his blood spattered shirt and towers over me protectively, he looks even bigger, badder, and better with his plain white T-shirt tucked into faded jeans. “Go ahead and mishandle your own life if that’s what does it for you, Campbell, but back off and let Jon-Wylder have a chance to find what makes him happy. He loves his music, he might love Gigi, stay the fuck out of it. You got that— I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. He’s my best friend and somebody has to stand up for him. You need to remember that money is all that ever separated the four of us, you, Walker, Jon-Wylder, and me. We all wrestled the same demons—our sadistic low-life fathers—we survived with each other’s help. I’m hoping you’re not gonna become one of them— a bitter, self-indulgent jerk-off. As far as Scarlet’s concerned, watch what you fucking say, whatever she needs she’ll get from me , understand? You and I are okay, Campbell, no hard feelings, but here’s a promise I’ll keep—you try and ruin what’s happening between me and Scarlet, and you’ll have to kill me first.”
    We drive back to Holt’s house in silence and my mind, heart, and body are at war with each other. The logical part of my brain tells me that I’m here for four short weeks to order furniture and fabric, whatever it takes to decorate the McCauley’s ‘fishing retreat’. My heart knows I’m in way too deep with a man who will never want children and probably only sees me as a sweet little piece of ass until I go home to Atlanta, out of sight, out of mind. And my body wants him with an intensity that’s truly frightening. Talk about men going all caveman, well I’m having a regressed-back-to-cavewoman moment as I sit here obsessed with each twitch and flex of Holt’s biceps and forearms as he grips the steering wheel. WTF! He just caused a disgusting amount of blood to gush from Campbell’s nose with one—ONE—swing of his fist, and I’m so hot and bothered that if he says a word to me I’m sure I’ll have a ‘touchless orgasm’ RIGHT NOW!
    The minute the truck screeches to a stop in front of his house we both jump out and he has the nerve to haul me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, burst through the front door, smack my ass HARD, and tosses on me on the leather couch. Fuck! It’s as if he read my mind and knows what I need, what I have to have. That I want it, him , rough and rowdy and out of control. That I trust him with my body and crave his special brand of tender and tough, just the right amount of pain that explodes into the most deliriously mind-blowing pleasure. He pulls me up against him and I crash into his solid, immoveable chest . His eyes narrow before he leans down to kiss my lips, my neck, his heart slams in his chest in a perfect pounding rhythm with mine, and I know that he wants what I want, something serious and maybe a bit dangerous. He’s ready to take me to the edge and then over, but he’ll also keep me safe.
    “Shower,” he says and smiles when I wind my arms around his neck, clinging to him. “I smell like my horse and that’s not good. C’mon beauty, you’ll get you what you want, we have all the time in the world.”
     
     
    *
     
     
    Holt…
    What am I gonna do with this beautiful girl? I could fall in love with her, that’s all I know, and maybe I already have. I learned a long time ago to let anger pass through me and just let it go, it’s how I survived as the target of my father’s misery. But I was angry enough to have