Page 97 of Holding Onto You


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That. God. That right there. My chest aches with the weight of her words. I press a kiss to her temple, then one to the corner of her mouth.

“Mac…” She hums, eyes barely open, her smile lazy and content. “You’re it for me,” I say, low and certain. “There’ll never be anyone else. Not in this lifetime. Not in the next. You’ve always been it. Since the second you walked into my world and made everything else fade.”

Her breath hitches, and she tilts her chin to look up at me. Her eyes shimmer under the stars, wide and full of something that steals the air from my lungs.

“I mean it,” I whisper, brushing my knuckles across her cheek. “It’s you. In every lyric I write. In every breath I take. I’m ruined for anything less than you.”

Her smile breaks, slow and breathless. “Then I hope I never stop ruining you.”

I let out a soft laugh, burying my face in her hair. God, I love this woman. With everything I have and everything I am.

The music in the distance fades into the background, a distant heartbeat of the festival. But here—beneath the stars, with her wrapped around me—the world is perfect.

Chapter 21

Kayla

The scent of coffee and sugar pulls me from sleep, and for a moment, I don’t move. I’m wrapped in warmth—Logan’s hoodie cocooned around me, the sun spilling golden light across the bed. I stretch, muscles deliciously sore in all the right places, a smile tugging at my lips as last night’s memories bloom behind my eyes like fireworks.

Laughter echoes down the hall—deep voices mingling with lighter, giggly ones. Female.

I push off the covers, barefoot, tugging Logan’s hoodie lower over my thighs as I pad toward the kitchen.

Rounding the corner, I pause.

The villa’s kitchen is alive. Plates of food cover the counters—golden waffles stacked high, vibrant trays of fruit, pastries dusted with powdered sugar. Bottles of juice and sparkling water glisten in the morning light.

And then there are the two young women—servers, I guess—flitting around the kitchen, setting out trays and batting lashes, both focused on Logan.

He’s shirtless.

Hair damp from a shower, a towel casually slung over his broad shoulders, grey joggers hanging low on his hips like pure temptation. He leans back on the sofa, smirking at something one of the girls says, but his eyes aren’t really on them.

Not yet.

I clear my throat softly.

Logan’s gaze snaps to me. His smirk deepens, and he stands, towel slipping slightly as he moves toward me.

“Morning, baby,” he says, voice low and warm.

Before I can answer, one of the girls, still unpacking trays of food, laughs nervously. “So, is she, like… your girlfriend?”

Logan glances at her briefly, then back to me without hesitation. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb brushing over my jaw.

“She’s everything,” he says simply.

My heart tightens.

His lips brush the shell of my ear. “And next time I see you standing there in my hoodie, looking like that…” His breath hitches. “Kissing won’t be enough.”

I’m still trying to catch my breath when he pulls me closer, his lips finding mine in a slow, deep kiss—a promise wrapped in heat.

The girls finish arranging breakfast in awkward silence, cheeks flushed as they mumble goodbyes and slip out.

Trey whistles low. “Damn, Logan. You kiss Mac like we’re not all standing right here.”

Logan just grins, casual and unapologetic, grabbing a croissant like he didn’t just turn my legs to jelly.