by Aleah Barley
She swung again, grinning when she heard the solid thud of bone against flesh.
“Feel the difference?” Finn asked.
“A little bit.” She rolled her eyes. “Okay, a lot. What else do I need to know how to do?”
Finn spent the next twenty minutes adjusting her stance and showing her how to get the most power behind a punch. His hands never left her body. Callused fingers skimmed across her bare legs, widening her stance, before moving up to correct the way she positioned her fingers.
Each touch—each press of his body against hers—set Gina’s heart racing. This wasn’t like the mild flirtation they’d had in the truck, sitting side by side with the center console providing a solid barrier between them. Hell, it wasn’t even like the kiss she’d stolen or Finn’s tentative response.
This was a sexy, solid man holding her tight and focusing every ounce of his concentration in her direction. It was a heady experience, one she wasn’t quite used to, and she wanted more.
Unfortunately, Finn didn’t seem to notice the effect he was having on her. He was too busy showing her how to perform a smooth jab and a sweeping uppercut to notice the lust in her eyes. And when her rock-hard nipples brushed against his chest?
Nothing.
It was freaking aggravating.
Sun beat down on their skin, leaving them both covered in a light sheen of sweat. “We should have done this before we showered,” Gina groaned.
“Probably,” Finn laughed. He dropped his hands down to his side and took a step back, separating their bodies. For a moment, she thought they were finished, but then he reached down and tore his rich blue T-shirt up over his head. “Let’s go again.”
“Let’s—” Gina’s throat went dry. Her head was swimming. The sound of birds singing in the distance had been replaced by a rush of blood as her brain struggled to catch up with current events.
He had an eight-pack. A freaking eight-pack. His abs were like a washboard, all rippled and tight. She wanted to run her fingers down over his solid core and dig her nails into the Gothic cross tattooed over his heart. She wanted to hold on tight as he bucked against her.
“Damn,” she panted eagerly, watching his gold chain dance across his chest. There was some kind of charm hanging on the end. A medal?
Arm muscles flexed as Finn tucked the shirt neatly into his back pocket. “Come on. I’ve got a dollar left. If you can hit me twice—good hits—then I’ll split a cup of coffee with you.”
Coffee. She’d kill for a cup of that old black magic.
“That’s a mighty tempting offer, Detective.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Damn straight.” Gina’s lips twitched up into a grin.
Time to stop playing around and start playing dirty.
Finn was circling her warily now, clearly unnerved by the happy expression on her face. Let him worry. It was time to take away the gorgeous man’s cool composure and put him just as off balance as he’d made her.
Gina brushed her hair back away from her face. She stretched slightly, the move drawing attention to her full breasts as everything moved under her shirt. When she’d washed out her panties, she’d rinsed her shirt and bra. The shirt had gone back on—unfortunately—but the intimate item was tucked into her purse. Now, the damp pink cotton clung to her God-given curves with no impediment.
Finn’s gaze narrowed. Blood was starting to color his cheeks. “Are you going to hit me?”
“I’m working up to it.” She pitched her voice low and husky, using the tone that always had her ex-boyfriends tripping over their own feet. She might not be an expert boxer, but there wasn’t much she didn’t know about wrapping a man around her fingers.
Even a man like Finn, who’d made it clear that he wasn’t interested.
“Boxing’s a lot like dancing, Detective.” Her hips ground out a primal message as she began to move in time to music only she could hear.
His cheeks were glowing a burnished red now. His breath was coming just a little faster as he watched her move across the soft grass. “How’s that?”
“It’s all about how you move your hips.” She threw in an extra wiggle as her feet cha-cha’d closer to him. “And how you hold your arms.” Her hands skimmed across her narrow waist, drifting gently upward. “It’s about watching your partner—sorry, opponent—and knowing exactly how he’s going to move before he takes his first step. Actually, it’s a lot like sex that way.”
“Sex.” There was the slightest falter in Finn’s footwork as he said the word. “Boxing is like sex?”
“Oh, yeah,” she purred. “You can learn a lot about what a man’s going to be like in bed if you watch him move, whether it’s dancing or boxing. It’s all about rhythm. And let me tell you, Detective, you’ve got rhythm in spades. I bet you’re a tiger in the sack.”
His hands dropped downward in surprise. “What?”
Gina surged forward, punching at his jaw. The angle was slightly awkward—she’d started on her less powerful foot—but the hit was a decent one.
Finn sputtered as he retreated backward. “You little cheater,” he yelled.
“Oh, no, Detective, never that. When I’m with a man, I always give him my full and undivided attention.” She glanced up at him from behind full eyelashes, and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. It was an old move, but a good one.
“Of course, if you’re worried about where my loyalties lie, you could always try handcuffing me to your bed for the night,” Gina offered. “I’ve been known to like it rough, Detective. What about you? Do. You. Like. It. Rough?”
“Fuck,” Finn swore, the word so at odds with his usual way of speaking that Gina had to stop and stare in disbelief. His entire body jerked, giving her the opportunity she needed to lunge forward and deliver a jab straight to his gut. His hands came up, and for a moment, she thought he was going to bat her away. Then his fingers closed tight around her wrists.
“You shouldn’t say things like that.” Finn took one step forward then another, his body surging toward her like a wave, to press her back against the truck stop’s gray cement wall. The medal he was wearing dug into her chest. His dark pupils had exploded with lust. He smelled like sweat and sunlight and possibilities. Like sex.
His head buried itself in the juncture where her neck connected with her collarbone, and he growled against her skin, “It’s. Not. Nice.”
“I’m not a nice girl, Detective.”
“Don’t I know it?” He brought her hands up over her head, holding them in place with the same nimble fingers she’d fantasized about the night before.
“We can’t do this,” he told her, but his free hand dropped to skim across her belly and burrow its way underneath her shirt. His palm cupped her breast, making her gasp in excitement. “It’s not right.”
“Why not?”
“We just met each other.” His lips flattened out against her neck, sucking hard. “And it’s against the rules.”
“The LVMPD is more than a day away. They’re not going to know.”
“They’re not the ones I’m worried about.” His teeth nipped at her, hard enough to leave a mark. “The things I’ve done…I can’t explain, but I’m not what you need. This thing between us—whatever it is—it can’t go anywhere.”
His hips jerked against hers, and for the first time, she could feel his erection, long and hard through several layers of fabric. He was hung like her fantasy, and she wanted more. The urge to grind against him until they both lost control surged within her.
Instead, she tugged one hand free and reached down to unzip his heavy jeans. The cotton of his briefs was rough against her palm. She slipped her fingers inside and stroked silky flesh, smiling when he throbbed eagerly against her. “I’m not asking for forever, Finn. It could just be sex. I can handle a one-night stand.”
“I can’t,” he said, and suddenly she was free. His hands dropped down to his sides, and he stepped back to give her some space. “I’ve sinned enough. I can
’t do it anymore. I can’t drag you down with me. You deserve better.”
“Sin?” Gina blinked in surprise as she tried to sort out the sudden change in temperature. One second, Finn was burning hot against her, and the next, his cold mask was back in place. “I’m not suggesting we go on a murder spree. I just thought we could engage in a little consensual fun before we return to Las Vegas.”
The black cross tattooed over his heart gleamed in the sunlight, dark and tantalizing. Gina leaned forward to skim her lips across the ink-stained skin. He smelled like clean masculine exertion. He tasted salty. His heart hammered excitedly under her touch.
“Tell me to stop,” she said.
“Don’t stop.”
Good enough. She gave him another quick lick before dropping to her knees. It only took a moment to tug Finn’s jeans down over his hips. The parking lot was empty. There were no prying eyes pointed in their direction, and they’d be sure to hear any vehicle before it pulled up.
That didn’t stop Gina’s heart from pounding faster as afternoon sunlight poured down on her shoulders. One hand dug into Finn’s hip, holding him in place, while the other circled his long erection.
Damn, he had a good-looking cock. It was longer than most and uncircumcised. Gina’s lips parted, and she let out a long breath, hot air ghosting across his swollen skin and causing a creamy drop to form on the cap.
Yum.
Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and Finn let out a low groan. His hips thrust against her grip, forcing his hard cock through the channel made by her fingers. “Gina…” He panted her name.
Electricity zipped through Gina’s body, burying itself low in her core. The heat of his desire put her on edge and left her wanting more. She stroked him once, twice, then swallowed him down.
Chapter Ten
Going all brimstone and fury on Gina’s ass had been a mistake; Finn had known that as soon as the words were out. Her brow had furrowed in confusion. Her cute little lips had pursed like she wanted to ask him something, but then she’d leaned forward and dragged those same lips across his skin.
All the blood had rushed out of his head and gone straight to his cock. When she’d touched him—so much like his fantasy, it had taken him a moment to remember it was real—he’d almost come right there against her fingers.
Did he want her?
He’d never wanted anything more than to thrust into her hand and lose himself in her touch.
Now this.
Her perfect lips slipped down over his swollen cock, taking him so far into her mouth that he worried she might choke. The heat was wet, tight, and all encompassing.
The taste of blood flooded his mouth. Had he bitten his tongue? His lips? It didn’t matter. The sharp pain helped him focus on the way her fingers cupped his balls and stopped him from embarrassing himself.
His fingernails dug into his palms. He had to hang on, to keep himself from coming instantaneously.
There was a wet popping sound as Gina’s lips separated from his erection. “You can move,” she said. “I don’t mind.” Then she sucked him down again.
“Hell,” Finn growled. There was no way to stop now. His hips shuddered. His cock dragged back and forth across those perfect lips as he thrust deeper. “Oh, hell,” he swore. “Oh…damn.”
A scrap of verse echoed in his heads: “Who is this arising like the dawn, fair as the moon, resplendent as the sun, formidable as an army?”
A rough groan escaped his throat.
He came suddenly, roughly, spilling into Gina’s mouth. “I…” He leaned forward, bracing one arm against the wall behind her. “That was… Thank you…”
“Don’t mention it.” Gina tilted back onto her heels, wiping her mouth on her hand. It took her a moment to stand up, fitting her body into the small space between his chest and the wall. She pressed her lips softly against his, even as her hands reached down to settle his jeans back into position.
“Seriously.” She zipped up his fly. “That was fun.”
Lack of experience might have made Finn clumsy, but he knew some reciprocation was in order. He reached out to run his hand over her arm, swearing when his fingers brushed against the scrape on her arm. “I’m sorry…I should do something. What do you want?”
Hazel eyes gazed out at him from under long red lashes. “You really don’t do this often.”
“No. I don’t.”
There was a long pause. She nodded. “It’s okay. We need to get back on the road.”
Neither of them said a word as they walked back over to the truck. Finn opened the passenger side door, holding it for Gina while she climbed up into the seat. He slammed it shut and tugged on his T-shirt before getting in beside her.
They drove for an hour before she turned to him, hazel eyes gleaming. “A word of advice—the next time a woman gives you a blow job, don’t say thank you. Say something…nice.”
“It was better than nice…but we still shouldn’t have done it.”
“Because there’s someone else?”
“No, there’s no one.”
“Oh…” Her cheeks stained a bright pink. “I thought I’d lost you there at the end. You weren’t thinking about someone else?”
“No, I…” He flushed. “I just remembered some poetry.”
“I make you think of poetry?” Her laughter was warm and spirited. “That’s what you should have said in the first place. It’s definitely better than thank you.” She reached out, and her fingers splayed out across his thigh. “You know, Detective, when you’re not being an asshole, you can actually be kind of charming. I like that side of you.”
“I know.”
That was half the problem.
Gina Malloy—a woman he was in no way good enough for—liked him, and for some reason, he couldn’t turn away. He should have made things clearer the night before. He should have told her about Chicago and all the vows he’d broken. He couldn’t be trusted to keep his word or hold his temper. He’d told her the truth: she deserved better.
But he should have done more to make her believe that.
Instead, he’d let her go down on him while she was still holding out hope for some future that could never be.
“It could just be sex.” Her words from earlier echoed in his head. “I can handle a one-night stand.”
And that was the other half of the problem.
Gina was a vibrant, physical, modern woman. It was unlikely that she was a virgin at twenty-eight. In fact, given everything he knew about her, it was a distinct impossibility.
She’d had sex.
She liked sex.
She’d have sex again.
With men who weren’t Finn.
He let out a frustrated growl as his mind conjured up the thought of Gina dancing with another man…kissing him…pressing some stranger up against the wall instead of Finn.
It shouldn’t bother him. Gina deserved a full and happy life, and if that included sex, then so be it. What two consenting adults got up to in the privacy of their bedroom—or up against a cement wall in the sunlight—was none of his business.
It just couldn’t happen with him.
No matter how much he might want it.
And if it ever did? It wouldn’t just be one night of passion. No, if he ever fell, it would be forever.
Gina deserved someone who could give her forever. Someone who could be trusted not to take her heart and smash it into a million pieces.
“You actually believe what you said back there?” Gina’s quiet voice broke through his reverie. “About sin?”
“Absolutely.”
“Like, you believe in moral absolutes? Right and wrong? Do you actually think God cares, if there even is a God?”
It was an interesting question, and Finn gave it the consideration it deserved. “I don’t know for certain, not anymore. If I did, I’d be back in Chicago and we never would have met.” He paused. “I thought I knew, absolutely, that God existed and that he wanted me to serve him
. I heard the call.”
“You thought the Almighty was speaking to you?” Gina’s warm body shifted slightly toward the passenger side door. Her hand pulled away. “Like some kind of psychosis.”
“Like I was a priest.”
The truck went silent. Neither of them said a word. Even the radio failed to fill the void, producing only a soft white noise that made the quiet all the more present.
Finn hadn’t meant to tell her that.
People always acted weird when they found out he’d been a priest, as if he was some kind of space alien sent from a galaxy far, far away. The truth was nothing of the sort. He’d grown up Irish and Catholic, the oldest of six children. He’d always known he was meant for the priesthood, from the day he’d entered kindergarten until the morning he’d walked into the seminary and taken his vows.
It was meant to be.
Fate. Destiny. His mother’s will.
“A priest…” Gina finally said, obviously trying to wrap her head around the revelation.
“A Catholic priest,” he confirmed. “I made vows. I—”
“Did you have a funny name?”
His teeth ground together. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t you have to change your name to be a priest? Like the Pope. He always changes his name.”
“I wasn’t the Pope.”
“So, you don’t have a funny name?”
Finn struggled to uncoil the knots low in his belly. “The kids called me Father Finn. I taught history at Saint Michael’s and ran a boxing clinic after school.”
“Huh.” Gina thought about that for a moment. Her mile-long legs stretched out in front of her, skimpy shorts clinging to her muscular thighs. “And yesterday…when you said that you didn’t want to die a virgin…you weren’t joking? You’ve never had sex. I just—” Her cheeks weren’t just pink now, they were fire-engine red. “Was that your first time? I mean, your first—”
“It was my first anything.” He paused. “I guess you think I’m a freak.” Everyone else did, including his brother, who was always asking him when he was going to start dating now that he’d left the priesthood.