Leaning forward, I pressed my forehead to my steering wheel. “Idiot.”
Tomorrow, I’d have to talk with Fynn and deal with this when my brain was functioning and my body wasn’t vibrating from two amazing orgasms. Tonight I’d go home and shower so his scent didn’t cling to my skin. Tomorrow, I’d have to pretend none of this meant anything.
Chapter Five
The landscaper is scheduled to arrive in two days, which means Fynn’s crew must finish the front reconstruction and windows. I’ve been having problems with Fynn the past few days. He’s brushing me off whenever I try to get him to appear in a scene with Sophia. I don’t want to get Carl on his ass, but I will if I have to. We don’t have time for someone to go prima donna on set.
—Impact Load Production Notes, Brian Merrick, Director
I wish I could say that I’d been mature enough to push our evening aside as a wonderful onetime event. I’d had flings before, casual sex never having been a big deal before now and not once had I made something more out of the night than what it was—sex.
So why I couldn’t get Fynn out of my mind was baffling. The next morning I had the makeup and hair girls spend a bit of extra time on me, ignoring the fact that I’d soon have to put a hard hat on which would ruin their efforts. Still, the thought of seeing Fynn again made me nearly dizzy with anticipation.
“You’re late.” I looked up to see Tamara standing a few feet away from the makeup trailer with a rather unpleasant look on her face.
“I slept like crap and the girls needed more time to have me looking presentable.” Not a complete lie and something I knew she’d believe.
“I need to talk to you.” Before I could protest, Tamara had me by the arm and was yanking me to her car.
“What the hell’s going on?”
“Shut up.” She actually dug her fingers into my arm so hard I was scared she’d break the skin.
“Mara, what’s wrong?”
Tamara jerked the passenger door open and practically shoved me in. She said nothing until she marched around to the other side and slammed her door closed. Wrapping her fingers around the steering wheel, Tamara let out a long, slow, breath.
“We have a problem with the budget.”
“Okay...what’s wrong?” In all the years that we’ve been friends, I’ve never known Tamara to overreact to a situation. If she said we had a problem with the budget, then it was something more than being a few hundred dollars shy of our projections.
I watched as she licked her lips and her fingers flexed on the wheel. “I don’t know how, but we are short fifty thousand dollars.”
“What?”
Tamara closed her eyes. “I was going over the numbers with Carl yesterday when we noticed the discrepancy. I triple-checked and we found a mistake in the initial accounting. If you want to be able to finish this project, get Trinity House back up to usable form, we need to find some cash. Our business credit is already dangerously close to maxed, so we can’t carry it ourselves. Neither can Fynn.”
If I were to go back to the crew and tell them we could only do some of the renovations, no one would bat an eye. That was life on a show such as this. But while the crew might be okay with us cutting back on the restoration, I’d never be able to live with myself if I couldn’t make this place functional again. There were too many people who needed a safe place to call home. This was the place that I myself had once called home. Back then, my first few days at the shelter had been confusing for me. I didn’t fully understand what was going on, only that my dad didn’t want me anymore and we had to live here now. It was the warm welcome we’d received from all of the people there that had made all the difference.
Then Mom had taken on a job with the administration shortly after our arrival. They allowed us to stay and save up for a place of our own. The longer Mom worked there, the more like family these people became. I would cry on their shoulders when I was down, make the new kids feel welcome, and snag cookies from the kitchen on dares. This place had once saved me, and I would not let anything stop me from saving it, certainly not an accounting error.
“We need to find a way to get that money.” The burning in my chest was the fuel for my fire, my determination to make this work. Turing to face Tamara, I let out a huff. “How are we going to fix this?”
Tamara closed her eyes and I could practically hear her silent ten-count in her head. “Carl wants you and Fynn to host a meet and greet for some investors. A fund-raiser. It will increase awareness of Trinity House, but will also be great PR for the show.”
“That’s not so bad—”
“He wants you to come out as having once lived there. He wants you to talk about your dad.”
In my twenty-five years on this planet, there have been few things I found myself unwilling to try. I’d gone white-water rafting, rappelling, zip-lining and even bungee jumping. But the one thing I didn’t do, not even with my mom, was talk about my dad.
Fuck that and fuck him.
“No.”
Tamara knew me well enough not to push. “He’s not going to back down. If I’ve learned nothing about Carl, I’ve learned that.”
I was only five the night my mom packed a bag with our essentials and took me out of our apartment, but I would never forget how scared I’d been. When you’re a kid, any fighting between your parents can be a scary thing. I used to hide under my bed when the shouts got too loud. But that night had been different.
His back had been to me, so I could only see my mom’s face. She’d been screaming at him, though I couldn’t tell you what she’d been saying, only her tone. I remembered empty beer bottles littered everywhere around his feet. He wasn’t saying a word, but his body was shaking with rage. Why I hadn’t run away to hide, I couldn’t tell you now, but it meant I was there to see him lift his hand to hit my mom. He didn’t actually hit her. He stopped himself in time. But he had raised his hand to strike in anger, and that was enough for her.
“Get out.” The sound of his voice was burned into my five-year-old mind. “Get out and don’t come back. Ever.”
We did as he suggested.
“The answer is and always will be no. I will not talk about him,” I said firmly.
Tamara took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I know that, sweetie. I think we can negotiate if we play our cards right. Agree to do the fund-raiser, agree to do the talk, but leave out the part about your dad. Just make this about wanting to fulfill what you set out to do, which was help Trinity House. He gets what he wants and you don’t have to worry about the past.”
“There’s no way I’m going to—”
“Sweetie, I know. We’ll make this work. I know you’d do anything to help out the shelter. My job is to make sure nothing bad happens to you. Okay?”
Maybe I was being paranoid, but I got the impression things weren’t going to be that easy for me. “We’ll see.”
I was a mess the rest of the day. Matt gave up trying to get me to say anything interesting and chose to follow some of Fynn’s guys instead. Not having the pressure of a camera three feet from my face gave me a chance to catch my breath. Tamara was right in that I’d be willing to do anything for the shelter...well, almost anything. But if Carl pushed matters about my dad, he’d discover the hard way that I wasn’t a pushover.
Instead of being with the rest of the crew, I holed up in my makeshift office in the house with the intent of reviewing status reports. I actually ended up doodling in my sketch book, recreating the image of the room I’d wanted as a kid. I hated pink, which was the color of the temporary room I shared with two other girls. My ideal room was various shades of green with blue accents. I would color and draw picture after picture of what my room would someday look like, sticking them up on my walls.
I heard feet shuffling outside the doorway, but ignored it until it was followed by a throat clearing. I didn’t need to look up to know it was Fynn. I could smell his aftershave, freshly applied, mixed with the aroma of coffee.
&nbs
p; “You look like shit.”
The snort escaped me before I had a chance to stop it. “Thanks.”
“I’m not used to women I’ve slept with looking so depressed the next day.”
“Cocky.”
“Confident in my abilities. What’s wrong?”
A take-out cup of coffee was placed on my sketch pad, halting my doodles. I chanced a quick glace up and immediately wished I hadn’t. Dammit, it was easier to deal with him when he was acting all broody and trying to ignore me. Regardless of my having slept with him, Fynn didn’t know me. The last thing I wanted was his pity.
Though, I would happily take his coffee. “Thanks.”
“You can get the next one.” Without asking, he grabbed the chair against the wall and pulled it over to the desk, sitting carefully on it. “You know we’re going to have to move your office soon. It’s not going to be safe to have you set up here much longer.”
Wonderful. More good news. “Figures.”
“I’m sure Carl can get us a trailer if we need it.”
The thought of Carl spending money on anything outside of supplies for the build set my hackles up. “No. I’ll work out of my car if I have to.”
Fynn leaned back and crossed his arms. In that position, he looked as though the chair was about to break under his weight. “What’s crawled up your ass? You’re not pissy about last night?”
“You know, not everything is about you, jackass.” The air in the house felt thick. I needed to get out of here before I lost my shit on someone. Ignoring Fynn’s glare, I got up and grabbed my purse.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Sophia—”
“I said out.”
I don’t know why I was so angry, but I couldn’t stop the feelings from spinning around. My anger grew with each step when I realized Fynn was behind me. “Leave it alone, Babineau.”
“Not happening, Holbrook.”
Conscious of the eyes on us, I snapped my mouth shut and continued toward where I’d parked my car. The tiny lot near the back of the house was jam-packed with vehicles, and I’d only found a spot because of how early I’d arrived. God, my morning excitement seemed a lifetime ago now. Hair, makeup and impressing Fynn hardly mattered when there was a real possibility that my life was about to be put on display for the world to see.
A hand on my shoulder spun me around as Fynn backed me against a van. On instinct I punched him in the shoulder and shoved at his chest. “Back off!”
“Shit, sorry.” Fynn leaned up against the van, rubbing where I’d hit him.
My anger deflated as quickly as it had bloomed. Fynn was trying to be a nice guy, reaching out to me despite his own past issues and here I was being a bitch. “No, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Clearly I did.” He let out a huff as he turned and pressed his back to the van. “Please tell me I’m not the one you’re pissed at.”
“You’re not.”
“Because I was under the impression that you’d wanted last night, too.”
“I did.”
“If I was wrong, you need to tell me so I don’t fuck up again.”
“Fynn, you didn’t fuck up.”
I inched over to stand in front of him. He’d stopped rubbing his shoulder and now had his hands pressed against the van. God, he really was a good-looking man. Either he hadn’t shaved today, or his beard grew fast. The stubble gave him a rugged look that was apparently an attractive quality for me.
His crystal-blue eyes were full of concern as he stared at me. “Are you okay?”
I hadn’t a clue how to respond, so instead I took his face in my hands, leaned in and kissed him. He didn’t respond at first, his mouth barely opening to mine, but I was determined. I deepened the kiss, licking at the seam of his mouth until he finally opened up to me. In a heartbeat his hands were wrapped around me, pulling my body tight against him.
Pressed against him, I took control of the kiss. Fynn moaned low and deep in his chest, letting me set the pace. Finding the bottom of his shirt, I slipped my fingers beneath so I could tease the hair that I knew covered his abs. He bucked his hips in response, tightening his hold on my waist.
“It’s the middle of the day,” he whispered against my mouth. “People will see.”
I opened my eyes long enough to check the parking lot. It was clear of people, but he was right. Not to mention if anyone went up on the roof they’d get an eyeful.
I still couldn’t quite bring myself to care.
“Sophia...”
Fuck, he was going to be all noble about this. I pushed away from the van, grabbed his hand and yanked him around to the backyard. “This way.”
“Where are we going?”
“I know a place where no one will find us.” Unless things had drastically changed, my not-so-secret hiding spot should still be there. We weren’t set to touch that part of the building for at least another week, which meant there shouldn’t be any interruptions either.
“I don’t have...” He jerked on my hand, slowing me down. “I’m not packing.”
My gaze slipped down to his clearly hard cock. “You look fine to me.”
Fynn growled. “I don’t have a condom. Wasn’t exactly expecting workplace sex the first time, let alone a repeat performance.”
“We’ll improvise.”
“Sophia—”
The door to the back porch was stuck when I tried to yank it open. Dropping Fynn’s hand I used both of mine to jerk on the handle. “Fuck, I think it’s locked. Or jammed.”
“Let me see.”
I stepped just far enough away to let Fynn take a look at the door. He hummed as he inspected the door hinges rather than the lock itself. Taking a screw driver that was sticking out of his back pocket, he positioned it underneath the pin that held the hinge. “Hand me that rock.”
I did, but made sure to run my fingers along his wrist when I did, earning myself a glare. “Sorry.”
“I doubt that.”
Three blows later and he’d popped off both pins, allowing him to take the entire door off.
“Impressive.” I stepped through into the porch.
“It’s a gift.”
That was all I let him say before I dropped to my knees and yanked at the buckle that held his tool belt. “Where’s your hammer?”
“If you open my jeans you’ll find it.”
“Smart ass.”
“I wasn’t expecting to hammer anything this morning.”
“Maybe you should keep a condom with it. That way you’ll always be prepared.” The belt was heavy when I finally worked it free, so I let it fall to the old floor boards with a thunk.
“Careful. Some of those tools are expensive.”
“You can punish me if I’ve hurt them.” Somehow I managed to hold back a comment about his cock being the only tool I was currently interested in.
Said cock was now fully exposed to me as I wrestled his jeans and briefs down his hips to the tops of his thighs. I should have gone further, exposing his ass cheeks for me to dig my nails into, but I was impatient. He held my face, refusing to let me go further and forcing me to look up at him.
“I’ve always used protection. And I know you don’t need to believe me, but I’m clean. I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“I know.” Without thinking too much about it, I leaned in and ran my tongue from the base of his cock up to the tip, and then back down once more.
Fynn’s fingers found my hair, the tips digging into my scalp as I continued to lave his shaft, sucking, nipping and biting my way. “Christ, Sophia.”
Teasing words had long left my brain. All I was left with was the most basic vocabulary—hot, hard, mine—and the need to come hard. But first I wanted to feel Fynn lose his mind. I wrapped one hand around his shaft and began to stroke him in time as I bobbed my head down his cock. With my other hand, I teased his balls, scraping my nails along the sensitive skin and over to the hair that covered his groin.
I really love giving blowjobs. I know they’re not everyone’s cup of tea, but there is something arousing about being able to reduce a powerful man to a quivering mess with the simple flick of my tongue. A few of my former partners were good at receiving them, though I’ve had a one or two who thought it was a way to dominate me. Yeah, you don’t do that to a girl who has your cock in her mouth.
Fynn was one of the former variety—he let me stay in control and simply enjoyed the ride. I could feel him holding back, the muscles in his legs quivering the longer I continued to suck. His face was scrunched up and his lips were parted.
“Sophia.” His grip tightened and he began to buck his hips in time to my strokes. I could taste pre-come as I licked the tip of his cock, could feel the blood pulsing through his shaft, swelling the skin until he was hard as stone.
While I’d like to think that it was my mastery of giving head that got him this close to the edge this quickly, I suspected it had been a while for him in the sex department, too. Well, I didn’t want to keep the man waiting. I gave his shaft a little twist as I sucked him all the way down. At the same time I scratched the bottom of his balls, enjoying the feel of them tightening beneath my touch.
Fynn groaned as his come filled my mouth. I swallowed it down, loving the taste, the smell, the feeling of him coming undone. His thighs shook hard and for a moment I thought he might lose his balance. I didn’t stop, but I did slow down enough to ensure he wasn’t going to pass out. Though that would have been a really cool thing to have happen.
Instead of taking the opportunity to recover, he pulled me off his cock and up to my feet. He didn’t look me in the eye, instead focused on getting my pants open. “You’re so fucking hot.”
I didn’t have a chance to ask him what he planned to do. Instead he shoved his hand down my pants, his fingers finding my pussy while his thumb landed squarely on my clit. “Shit.”
Fynn pressed his face to my throat as he started fucking me with his fingers. I was so wet, he slid easily into my passage. My clit was hard, I’d been so turned on before he even started I knew it would only be a matter of minutes before I was coming. Instead of fighting the sensations, of drawing it out for maximum pleasure, I closed my eyes and leaned my head against Fynn’s.
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