by Raina James
He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road as they left the quiet suburbs.
Finn hadn't known his father, and his mother certainly hadn't been around much, either. She'd taken off for good when he was ten, leaving it up to her parents to raise him. Finn had grown up in their cabin on the lake outside a small town that wasn't much of anything outside of tourist season.
It was actually there that they'd met. She was thirteen, her sister seven, when their parents had started renting the cottage next door to the Logans. Serena's parents were teachers, which left her aspiring writer dad free to search out "solitude to woo the word," as he used to say. They'd gone back every summer until that last one, when Serena was eighteen.
She'd seen Finn around, of course, but being a few years older, he wasn't very interested in her. Not until that last year.
The few road signs they passed glowed green and white in the headlights as the Crossfire purred down the highway. The road was a barren strip of grey bordered by the tall, black shadows of trees on either side. The clouds had moved in, so there wasn't even the faint light of the moon to brighten the landscape around them.
Serena had mixed feelings about their destination. She hadn't been back there for fifteen years. Hadn't wanted to go back.
"It'll take us a few hours to get there," he said, his voice loud in the car's cockpit after their long mutual silence. "Why don't you try to get some sleep?"
She nodded, latching on to his suggestion—if she wasn't awake, she wouldn't have to talk about what was between them. The thought appealed. Even if she couldn't sleep, she could at least close her eyes and pretend. The smooth leather seat was surprisingly comfortable, especially when she adjusted the seatbelt so it wouldn't dig into her neck when she leaned back on the headrest. Dimly, Serena felt her tired body relax into the soft leather.
Maybe she would be able to sleep after all. They were a few hours away from Wolf Lake. A few hours away—and fifteen years ...
* * * *
"Finn!"
The tall figure on the end of the dock turned at her call. The late afternoon sun was behind him, putting his face in shadow. His deeply tanned shoulders glistened with droplets of water from his swim, and his shoulder-length black hair had formed curls that would loosen into waves as they dried. The gold hoop in his ear caught the sunlight with a tiny flash.
Finn put his hands on his hips and waited for her to join him. The muscles of his chest rippled with the motion, which in turn drew her eyes to his lean waist and the hollows on either side of the tight belly that disappeared into the low-slung waist of his cut-offs.
"I passed your grandparents on the road on the way over. Bingo?"
She thought he hesitated before answering. The sudden brilliance of his smile made her believe she'd imagined it. "Like clockwork," Finn said.
"So," she said, stepping closer. "What do you want to do?"
"I'm supposed to meet the guys for practice …" He trailed off as she used her fingernail to trace a delicate pattern on his lean stomach, making the muscles flex involuntarily.
"But that's not till later, right?"
Finn caught her wrist in one hand, stopping the teasing touch. "In a little while. Actually, maybe we could talk—"
This time, it was the distraction of her free hand gliding up his damp thigh that made him break off what he was saying. Serena leaned into him, trapping their joined hands between them, to lick a bead of cool lake water off his chin. Finn made a pained sound deep in his chest.
Without warning, he swung her up in his arms, holding her high on his chest. She shrieked in surprise, then laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips were just as hungry as his when he caught them in a demanding kiss.
Safe in his arms, she paid no attention to their surroundings as he carried her up the path to the cabin's back porch.
"The door, Serena." He breathed the words against her mouth, his voice gravelly with need. She fumbled for the knob.
The screen door rattled in its frame as Finn kicked it shut behind them. His arms trembled at her back and under her knees, thrilling her because she knew it wasn't from the strain of carrying her. Finn crossed the small living room in a heartbeat, then they were in his room. He let her legs drop, standing her up at the foot of the bed with a supporting arm at her back.
"No. Wait." Finn stopped her hands as she reached for the button at his waist. His grip was almost too tight, but she didn't mind. She loved it when he fought for control; she loved it that she could make him lose control.
His eyes blazed into hers with raw hunger, and something else she didn't recognize. Concentration filling his face, he slid the elastic off the tail of her braid, slowly unraveling the woven hair. As if he couldn't help himself, he ran his fingers through the bright gold strands, loosening them, trailing them over her shoulders to drape over her breasts. With unsteady hands, he began unbuttoning her thin, white cotton blouse.
The backs of his hands lingered along the inside slopes of her breasts. Serena gasped at the deliberate caress, her eyelids lowering with the pleasure of it.
"Open your eyes, Serena," he coaxed. "I want to see you. Open your pretty blue eyes for me, baby."
Helpless to do otherwise, she obeyed. His silver eyes stayed on hers as his fingers spread her top wide and freed the front clasp of her modest lace bra. The calluses on his fingertips—earned from years of playing guitar— rasped her skin with exciting roughness as he slid his hands up her breasts to cup her shoulders, and down her arms. Unnoticed, her bra and blouse fell in a tangle of fabric at their feet.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered, and she believed him. "So sweet. So special."
Shyness was the furthest thing from her mind when he trailed his eyes down her body, following where his exploring hands led. She had no shame where Finn was concerned. He could do anything, ask anything, and she'd love it. Just like she loved him.
His clever fingers flicked open the button on her shorts, lowered the zipper and slid them down her slender legs.
He stayed on his knees for a moment, arms wrapped around her waist, his lips pressed to her belly. Tenderness filled her, for an instant cooling the heat of passion. She tangled her fingers in the damp black hair at his temples, caressing him gently, lovingly.
"Finn," she whispered. "My Finn."
The last of his control let go. He surged to his feet and pushed her down on the bed. His weight pressed her body deep into the mattress as he caught her head, trapping her face with firm, gentle hands. Her tongue met his eagerly, twining and sliding together. She whimpered as the final threads of tenderness frayed, and all she felt was want, need. For him.
He gasped into her mouth as her nails dug into his back, scraping a path from his shoulders to the small of his back, just beneath the loose waistband of his cut-offs.
Serena's hands slid around to his front. He lifted his hips to give her room to unbutton, unzip, then she had him. She stroked him firmly, then teased softly, then firm and long again, as she'd learned he loved it. Her other hand slid in with the first, then beyond to cup and squeeze.
Finn ground himself helplessly into her.
"Serena. Oh, Serena. Oh, baby, yes, like that."
He pushed his hands behind her shoulder blades, bowing her breasts up to his mouth like an offering. The pale pink nipples were hard with desire. She jerked as he sucked one deep into his mouth, rolling it on his tongue, pressing the sensitive bud to the roof of his mouth.
She moaned, and he moaned with her when her grip tightened to a pleasure just short of pain. He thrust harder into her palm, nipping and laving the nipple in his mouth before leaving it to pay homage to the neglected peak.
"Finn," Serena gasped. "Finn, please."
Her naked hips surged against the worn, wet denim keeping her from him.
He rose to his feet, chest heaving as he fought for control. Serena, pale flesh flushed and rosy, her breasts trembling with her heated gasps, watched him with hot eyes. Finn stared at her
as if he could burn her image into his mind, hold onto her just as she looked right now. Then he stripped off his cut-offs and covered her body with his.
His big hands glided down her thighs to her knees, pulling them up and back to her waist, opening her wide. Then they were back at her hips, tilting her to receive him.
"Serena."
She ran her tongue up his stubbled throat, tasting him, feeling his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Finn's fingers dug into her hips. Her own hands caught at his waist, tugging at him, encouraging him to pulse into her.
"Serena! Look at me."
Her lids lifted slowly to see him poised, tense and determined, above her.
"Serena," he breathed reverently.
She cried out as he surged into her, setting off the first ripples of pleasure. She'd barely caught her breath before Finn began a hard, fast rhythm, angling his hips to rub her intimately with each thrust, pressing tantalizingly against her inner flesh.
Her fingers slid on the sheen of sweat filming his skin. He suckled the lobe of her ear, the sound of his breathing a harsh bellows that made her heart trip faster, if that was possible. But then, she'd learned anything was possible with Finn Logan.
His kisses blazed down her neck. He sank his teeth into her nipple, then sucked on it when she convulsed beneath him. He slowed his pace to let her feel every pulse of her second orgasm, his controlled motions prolonging the pleasure.
Finn's lips moved slowly, soothingly over her closed eyes, her hot cheeks, to sip at her parted lips with butterfly kisses. Her lids fluttered open, and she looked at him through damp-spiked lashes. He was completely wonderful to her. At times funny and sweet, at others, sexy and serious. His talent and determination awed her.
Their eyes met and he renewed his driving rhythm.
"Finn," she whispered, her voice husky. Shyly, she added, "Finn, I want you with me."
His lips caught hers in a fierce kiss. "I will be." His hand moved between them. "Now, baby." His fingers stroked, driving her to the edge and over. With a hoarse shout, his rhythm breaking into a disconnected frenzy of short, tight thrusts, he joined her.
Trembling, this time from sated fatigue, Finn's arms gave out. He used the last of his strength to gather her close, then sighed and melted into her.
Serena limply draped her arms around him, the palm of one hand cradling the vulnerable nape of his neck.
When she awoke, the sunlight had faded from the curtained window and the room had cooled with the coming night. Snuggling into Finn's warm body, she twined a lock of his hair around her finger.
"So, I was thinking," she said.
"Hmmm?" he mumbled, his face still pressed into the curve where her neck met her shoulder. Finn shifted, pulling her closer.
"My parents will freak if I don't come home for Thanksgiving. I was hoping, though, if your grandparents wouldn't mind, if you could maybe come home with me for the holiday."
She was so focused on her plans, she didn't notice when his stillness changed from lethargy to something else. Blithely, she continued.
"I was also thinking maybe you could see if there are any gigs for the band at the pubs on campus, or the clubs in town. That way, we wouldn't have to wait for the holidays to see each other."
Finn let her go and rolled onto his back. She shivered as the cool air touched the skin he'd been keeping warm with his body heat. Tugging the sheet over her shoulder, she turned to her side, placing her hand on his chest. His heart beat fast and hard against her palm. She frowned.
"Finn? Is something wrong?"
Instead of answering, he got out of bed and went to his dresser. Stunned, she watched as he started to yank open the drawers and get dressed. That was nothing compared to what she felt when he started to speak.
"I've been meaning to talk to you about that." He wouldn’t look at her.
Serena sat up, hugging her knees to her chest as she felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.
"This summer has been great, you're great, Serena. But you should be focusing on school and I really need to put everything into the band." He said it in a rush, the words tumbling together in an awkward jumble that was all too easy to understand. Head down, still refusing to meet her stunned stare, he tucked his T-shirt roughly into his jeans. "We shouldn't make more of this than it is."
Serena exhaled sharply, like she'd been punched in the stomach. More than it is?
Finn took his guitar from its stand and stowed it away in its case. That was when she realized he was leaving. When he turned to face her, his image was blurred and she felt the tears trembling on her lower lids. For an instant, she thought he might come to her, hold her and tell her he didn't mean it. But he didn't. His expression hardened.
"I've gotta go. The guys are waiting for me at Danny's place."
Numbly, she watched the bedroom door close quietly behind him. Alone, the tears started to fall down her cheeks unchecked. She lay down, gasping and crying. At first, she hugged his pillow to her; the scent of him on it only made the pain sharper, and she threw it off the bed and curled into herself.
When she felt she could do it without breaking apart, she got up. Feeling empty and cold, she moved like a zombie around the room, collecting up her clothes.
Finn's car was gone when she went outside. She got in her parents' station wagon and started it up. Swollen, red-rimmed eyes stared back at her from the rearview mirror. Her mother would have a fit if she saw her like this. Serena blew her nose and used the Kleenex to swipe away her tears. A rummage in the glove box turned up some wet wipes, and she used those too.
Finally, she put the car in gear and drove down the long, gravelled driveway to the road that wound past the cottage her family rented. She was so anxious to get away, she failed to notice the battered red Firebird pulled off to the side of the road, hidden by the drape of a willow's trailing branches.
Riff watched long after Serena's taillights had faded in the distance.
He sighed, the pain-filled sound loud in the quiet car, and dropped his forehead on his arms, crossed over the steering wheel.
Closing his eyes, he saw again the raw pain that had filled Serena's eyes. It was no less than what he'd felt saying the words that ended what they'd had.
He'd thought about it, been sure it was the right thing to do. He couldn't let her throw away college for him. She'd worked too hard to earn her scholarship, scrimped and saved every dime she made to help pay for the rest.
What he'd said about himself was true, too. He and the guys had agreed to pull out all the stops. Morven was going on the road. No more local gigs. They were going to travel and play, doing gigs wherever they could, get their name out on the circuit. When they had enough money, they were going to buy studio time and cut a CD. They were going to do whatever it took to make Morven a hit.
He couldn't do his part if he had Serena to think of. He loved her. He'd do almost anything for her. It was the "almost" that had forced him to decide between Serena and the band.
Aside from his grandparents, the music inside him had been the one constant in his life. Even when life was at its most fucked, he'd always had the music. Once he'd picked up a guitar and learned to let that music out, it was better than any high he'd ever gotten from drugs or drinks or, eventually, sex. Or it had been, before Serena.
He hadn't planned on falling for her. He'd never felt about another woman the way he did about Serena. But over the summer, it had become increasingly obvious he'd have to choose between Serena and his career. He couldn't have both. If he stayed with her, she'd either drop out of college to follow him around, or he'd quit the band to take care of her. Either way, neither of them would end up with what they wanted. She deserved better than that.
So breaking it off was best, for both of them.
His eyes burned and he pressed his thumbs into the bridge of his nose. Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he'd start to believe it.
Chapter 8
The sky had
lightened to pinks and ambers when Riff turned the Crossfire onto the narrow gravel road. No other roads led off this one; it was actually a half-mile-long private drive that dead-ended at the cabin he'd called home for most of his youth.
Though he hadn't been back in months—actually, years, when he considered it—the drive was free of ruts and potholes. He may not come here often, but he made sure it was always well maintained. His grandparents would have appreciated that. They would have appreciated it more if he'd come home more often, but no one knew better than he did the futility of 'would've, could've, should've.'
The trees leaning close to the road were bright with new leaves, and the fresh green scent of them filled the car. He breathed deeply, taking it all in. Something inside him eased with a sigh of letting go, a sense of coming home.
The gravel crunched under the tires as the Crossfire rolled to a stop in front of the three steps leading up to the wraparound veranda. Riff turned off the engine and looked at the woman sleeping in the seat beside him.
Serena's skin was still rich as cream, with a becoming hint of rose. Her lids were thin and fine-veined. Brows and lashes were both golden brown, several shades darker than the lightly curled blond hair that framed her face in a simple style. It wasn't the sun-washed white-gold it had been that summer, yet it looked just as thick, with the promise of hidden wildness.
Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat, where she wore a delicate chain of twined gold.
The faint purple bruises under her eyes told him how tired she was, as did the fact she hadn't so much as stirred when he'd pulled off the road several hours ago to drape his leather jacket over her sleeping form. It was from more than just the stress of the past few days, he thought. From what he'd read about her, it was apparent she led a very busy life. Maybe too busy. The idea made him feel less guilty about bullying her into coming away with him. Her kids were on vacation; she deserved one too.
Right, Logan. Tell yourself another one. Like he was doing this just for her benefit.