by Raina James
"We should be good. There's enough wood in the box there to last us the night."
Serena sat on the couch. Wishing she'd thought to bring her slippers from home, she curled her chilled feet under her and helped herself to the blanket draped over the back of the couch. Just the sight of the flames wrapping around the wood made her feel warmer.
In profile, Finn's face was smooth with concentration as he focused on building the fire. The firelight highlighted his sharp cheekbones, accenting the hollows of his cheeks and the faint cleft in his strong chin. The short bristles of his evening beard looked soft and golden instead of the raspy black that made her fingertips tingle with sensory memory. The soft cotton of his long-sleeved shirt did nothing to hide the rippling muscles of his back and shoulders as he hefted the heavy logs like she would handle a salt shaker. He'd brushed his hair back from his face, though his bangs had a tendency to fall forward. Shorter than he used to wear it, his hair was still long enough to form loose waves, curling under at his nape and behind his ears. He leaned forward, and the shirt pulled up a bit to expose the shadowed hollow of his lower back. And his jeans were snug enough to show he was every bit as appealing as she remembered.
Serena hurriedly looked away when Finn rose, dusting his hands off against his denim-clad thighs. She tried to rein in her thoughts while he went to the kitchen for the second bottle of wine and their glasses. It certainly hadn't taken her long to start ogling him. Was she really that desperate for a little male attention?
She accepted the glass he handed her with a quiet thank you. Finn put the bottle on the end table and joined her on the couch.
They both fell quiet, watching the flames lick over the logs in the river-stone hearth. Serena was glad that whoever had done the renovation had kept the original hearth. The round, fist-sized stones framed the fireplace, and ran from the floor up the wall to the ceiling. Flecks of mica and quartz glinted red in the wavering light.
With the rest of the room dark, and the couch lit only by a small pool of candle and firelight, it felt like they were the only two people awake in the world. The storm that lashed the windows with whips of rain made the warmth and security inside the cabin all the more precious, intensifying the intimacy.
"Tell me about your husband."
"What?" Finn's quiet question—demand—caught Serena entirely off guard. She looked at him in surprise. He stared into his wine glass as if it held all the answers he'd ever wanted. Was he blushing? When he finally met her gaze, his eyes were serious and intent. Serena contemplated her own wine and took a fortifying sip before answering.
"His name was Michael Jeffries. You probably know that from the articles. We met in college. At registration, actually." She didn't look up to see if Finn reacted to that—it had only been a few weeks after they'd last seen each other. "We started dating and then we got married."
"He moved fast." Riff winced as Serena glared at him. "Sorry, that wasn't a swipe. Just commenting."
Serena sighed and shook her head. "It's not your fault. I guess I'm a bit sensitive about it. I told you Jack's birthday was in July." When he looked blank, she clarified, "We got married at Christmas."
"Ah." Riff wasn't sure, but he thought that would have made her a month or two along in her pregnancy. Which would have meant she'd gotten pregnant just a few months after that last explosive afternoon they'd spent together in this very cabin, just down the hall, in fact. She hadn't waited very long before getting involved with someone else. He couldn't really blame her for getting on with her life. It stung, though, to know she'd been in some other man's bed so soon after leaving his.
"I was able to finish the year out, but after Jack was born I just didn't have the energy to go to school full time. Besides, Michael had graduated and wanted to go home so he could work at his father's law practice while he waited to go through the bar exams."
She'd quit school? Anger forced out some of his awkwardness. He'd ended things so she could follow through on her plans to go to college, and she'd only finished a year before quitting to be a good little housewife —exactly what he'd been afraid would happen if they'd stayed together. Sure, he'd had his own reasons for breaking it off with her, but he'd convinced himself he was mostly doing it for her. He took a gulp of his wine to stop himself from saying something he'd regret. Noticing Serena's glass was empty too, he refilled both glasses.
"So then what happened?"
Serena shrugged. "Like I told you, I took correspondence courses and, when I could, night school courses to finish my degree. Katie was born along the way, and I pretty much did the mom thing. The practice kept Michael busy."
"I didn't realize there was that much demand for legal services in such a small town."
"Neither did I. Not that much, anyway," she added, almost to herself.
Riff frowned. "Was he not … working?"
"He was working," she said, a bit defensively. "A lot. It's just … well, let's just say I wasn't the wife he had in mind. Maybe we could have worked it out, I don't know."
She was quiet for so long he thought she wouldn't say anything more about it. But she surprised him.
"We managed to keep it together for—how does the phrase go? —for appearances' sake. You've got to understand, Finn, the Jeffries are perched on one of the top rungs of the town's social ladder. Heck," she waved her glass for emphasis, "they put up the damn ladder. Who knew staying balanced on that ladder would take so much effort?
"My mother-in-law's a perfect example. She works very hard at talking to the right people, dressing the right way, doing the right things. And there was me, a pregnant college dropout. Elizabeth must have been horrified."
"Why would she be? You are an intelligent, beautiful, accomplished woman."
"Thanks." This time, her smile was genuine. "But if I am, I've got Elizabeth to thank for it. She rallied quite well, took me under her wing and dared anyone to be so crass as to comment. No one said anything—to my face, anyway. Elizabeth gets under my skin sometimes, but I'll never forget how she eased my way into the family. As soon as that ring was on my finger, I was a Jeffries."
That all sounded well and good, but it wasn't what Riff really wanted to know. "Were you happy, Serena?"
Her smile faded. "I was … content. I had two beautiful children, a place in the community, interests to keep me busy and motivated. If my marriage wasn't all wine and roses," she raised her glass in a mock toast, "at least I had that."
"That's more than I had."
Serena's disbelieving laugh was full of genuine amusement, and wiped the last of the bitterness from her face. "What are you talking about? Finn Logan, you accomplished everything you said you would. Morven is the biggest thing since the Beatles. Okay, maybe not the Beatles. But your records always stick to the top of the charts, your concerts are sell-outs, your face is everywhere. You are more than good, you're fantastic, and everyone knows it."
"Oh?" He raised his brow, teasing, "And how do you know? I didn't notice any of those 'fantastic' CDs on the shelf at your place."
Serena flushed. "Jack's a fan, okay?"
"Uh-huh. Anyway, believe it or not, what you want in your twenties isn't always what you want in your thirties. I'm thirty-seven, Serena. No wife, no kids and very damn few good friends. Yes, the band's doing better than we ever dreamed it would, but there's more to life. A lot more."
Serena couldn't look away from the sudden intensity in Finn's eyes. The grey of his irises was gold in the firelight. The faint lines around his eyes and mouth appeared smoother in the gentle glow, and he looked exactly like the young man she'd fallen in love with all those years ago. The couch felt very small, the distance that separated them no more than a heartbeat.
He was going to kiss her. He hadn't even moved, and already the promise of his touch was making her pulse jump in her throat.
Finn's eyes held hers as he placed his wineglass on the end table without looking. Moving with the slow grace of a predator approaching its prey—or its ch
osen mate—Finn reached for Serena's glass. For a moment, her fingers tightened on the slender stem; then, with a sigh, she let him take it and add it to his on the table.
"There's a lot of things I wish I could change, Serena. But only one of those things really matters."
The tip of Serena's tongue wet suddenly dry lips. "What's that?" she whispered.
"You."
Her eyelids drifted closed as her breasts lifted in a shuddery breath. Then Finn's lips were against hers, and fifteen years fell away.
Chapter 11
Serena's thoughts scattered as Finn's lips moved gently over hers.
For the first time in what seemed forever, she felt drenched in sensation. It had been so long since anyone had touched her like this, but to have that person be Finn, after so long … She couldn't help herself. She sighed and leaned into him, letting her feet drop to the floor as she turned to face him.
The kiss was almost chaste. Almost. Leashed hunger hummed just beneath the simple caress, and her belly clenched with desire.
At first, all she registered was the softness of his lips brushing tantalizingly against hers. She breathed in the musky scent that was all Finn, spiced with wood smoke from the fire and a hint of cologne. More intoxicating than any wine, it conjured a rush of remembered sensation that spread throughout her body like quicksilver. Her lids felt heavy, her cheeks hot against his. Breathless, her chest rose and fell in jerky shudders. Her hands clenched where they'd fallen in her lap, then pressed into the soft heat that seemed to have burst to life in her lower belly.
Then his tongue ran along the seam of her mouth. Helplessly, she opened to him. He tasted of red wine and Italian spices and Finn.
A small sound escaped her throat. Finn pressed closer and the light stubble on his cheeks and chin rasped her skin, feeling as erotic as a feather on flesh. His tongue curled around hers, enticing her to join his play. His fingers traced restless patterns on her face, her neck, toyed with the lobes of her ears and rhythmically massaged her temples and the nape of her neck. Mouth slanting over hers, he plunged deeper.
Serena wanted to just drown in the pleasure, but her stupid, logical mind wouldn't let her. She shouldn't be doing this. It was crazy. She was making out like a teenager with Finn Logan in his grandparents' living room as if the past fifteen years had never happened.
Back then, everyone had wanted sexy Riff Logan. Everyone except her, that is. She'd only wanted Finn, not Wolf Lake's resident bad-boy musician. What she'd wanted hadn't mattered in the end. In the end, he'd made it more than clear that he wanted to be Riff more than he wanted to be her Finn.
Besides, over the years she'd seen enough pictures of the women he dated to know an almost-middle-aged mother of two teens wouldn’t be his idea of a good time. She would have had a hard enough time competing with those glamorous women when she was a curvy, pretty eighteen-year-old, but as a more filled out thirty-three-year-old? Forget it. Who was she kidding? He was probably just amusing himself with her. After all, she was the only game in town.
Oh, it might not occur to him in those exact terms. But if he was anything like the guy she'd known, Finn was reveling in the role of hero rescuing the "lovely maiden" from the ravening press hordes. And what does the hero get? The girl.
Her eyes fluttered open. Finn's expression was eloquently blank: He was lost in her. At the moment, he didn't seem to mind at all that she wasn't his usual "type." Serena tried to ignore the stubborn ember of hope that flickered to life. Slowly, she drew away from their kiss.
"What do you want from me, Finn?" Even as she asked the question, her hands crept around his neck, pulling him closer.
"Everything," he murmured. "Everything you can give me."
Finn didn't hesitate. He pulled her so close she could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the beat thrumming in perfect rhythm with her own. She shivered as his hands slid down her back then around her sides and up under her loose sweater in a long, gliding caress. They stopped at the edge of her breasts. His thumbs rubbed tiny circles on the satiny fabric covering the sensitive lower curves. That was all it took, just the promise of a touch, to bud her nipples completely into hard points. She gasped into his mouth.
"Serena?" Her name was a growl that rumbled in his throat, vibrating his chest against hers. That was all he had to say.
Serena sent her doubts scurrying for cover. Who cared why this was happening? What was she, a nun? Hell, no! Finn wanted her and, God, she wanted him. She was an adult. No one knew she was here. She didn't have to worry about what anyone else would think or say. She deserved to take her pleasure where she could find it. And if the sexiest man she'd ever known was willing to give it to her, she'd be a fool to stop him. People had meaningless, mind-blowing sex all the time. She was sure she'd read that somewhere.
Serena cupped his face in her hands and nipped at his lower lip. "Yes, Finn."
Relief flooded his expression, and his eyes filled with heat. "Oh, thank God."
Her sweater was over her head in an instant, tossed on the floor and forgotten. Then Finn buried his face against her throat. She moaned as he tasted her with lips and tongue and teeth. Her fingers kneaded the tense muscles of his shoulders like a little cat. He plucked at the points of her breasts, delicately tugging and teasing them through the silky fabric of her bra. Her breath caught in anticipation as he slowly, slowly licked a wet trail down her chest. He nipped at the swell of her breasts, trailed his tongue just under the lace edge of one cup.
Needing to feel him, Serena scraped her nails up the column of his neck, then back to his nape to cradle his head closer. Without warning, he caught the nipple of her left breast between his teeth. She cried out and jerked with the pleasure. He made a satisfied sound as he teased the trapped bud with the tip of his tongue.
"Oh please, oh please, Finn."
Responding to her barely audible plea, he took her nipple and the surrounding aureole into his mouth and suckled strongly. The strong fingers of his other hand tugged on the tip of her right breast in rhythm with his mouth. He released her and blew on the dampened fabric. Her nipple tightened even further. Serena moaned in delight Oh, she'd forgotten how good this was. How good Finn was.
"Serena, you're beautiful." As he spoke, he nuzzled the valley between her breasts, stroking her with his beard-roughened cheeks.
Serena tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and kissed the top of his head, rubbing her lips over the silky strands. "You're the beautiful one, Finn," she whispered.
Her palms slid down his spine as far as she could reach, to the middle of his back, and gathered fistfuls of heavy ribbed cotton. Finn sat back on his heels and reached behind his head to jerk the shirt off, the muscles in his chest flexing with the effort; in seconds, it joined her sweater on the floor.
Finn straddled her thighs, his knees sinking into the cushions on either side of her hips. He followed her down as she half-reclined against the thickly-padded arm of the couch, shifting to let her settle her hips more comfortably. He ran his hands down her torso, from shoulders to the waistband of her jeans. He lingered at her breasts, pressing her nipples into his palms and slowing rotating them with a sensual pressure that had her gasping. His lips curved in a satisfied smile.
He didn't stop there, stroking her throat and over her shoulders, down her arms to her hands. He lifted one to his mouth. His tongue flicked over her wrist. Until this moment, she'd never fully appreciated it as an erogenous zone for her. He nipped at the fragile flesh, then did the same with her inner elbow, finally positioning her arm beside her head. The pose pulled her breast almost completely free of her bra, a fact Finn appreciated with a glancing brush of his lips. He clasped her waist, his large hands making her feel tiny. Careful not to put too much of his weight on her, Finn leaned forward and claimed her with another torrid kiss.
"Pretty as this is on you, baby, it's gotta go." A pinch, a brief tightening and release, and she was free. Dropping the bra to the floor, he molded his
fingers around her breasts, almost, but not quite, touching her nipples. She felt quivers of anticipation, but wasn't sure if they were hers or Finn's.
He nibbled his way from her throat to her chest. His hands still cupped her breasts, his fingers arousing with alternating gentle touches and firm strokes. As if he couldn't resist, he quickly kissed each nipple before continuing down her torso. Her bellybutton diverted him, and he swirled his tongue into the tiny depression. She spared a fleeting thought for the faint stretch marks childbirth had given her, then forgot to worry as Finn nuzzled her.
When Serena shifted her pelvis restlessly against his chest, his fingers left her breasts to tug at the fastenings of her jeans, undoing the button, sliding the zipper down. She whimpered a bit as he lifted away from her, but it wasn't for long. He pulled jeans and panties off together, making the motion both efficient and exciting. Her socks join the pile of clothes on the carpet, and she was naked. The fire's heat seeped into her skin; that and the appreciation in Finn's eyes warmed her through.
He ran his hands up her calves, over her knees to her inner thighs, eyes following the path his hands blazed. Instead of feeling shy that she was naked while he still had on everything but his shirt, she reveled in the heat that turned his grey eyes to molten silver.
"You are so lovely, baby. Just like this."
His hands pressed gently against her thighs, spreading her wider. Wide palms cupped her buttocks and squeezed. Sliding them down the backs of her legs, he urged her knees up against his sides, then splayed her wider. His eyes on hers, he slowly lowered himself until his shoulders were nestled in the space he'd made. The first touch of his tongue made her cry out. Blindly, her fingers clutched in his hair, held him closer. He kept murmuring praises, his words heightening the pleasure of his lips and tongue, sending her hips moving rhythmically against him. Her thighs began to tremble and she bit her lip.
"Serena. Serena. Let go, baby. It's okay. I've got you."