All the Way

by Proby, Kristen

  “I’m sure he did. My dad was a control freak, and he couldn’t control Kyle. But, my parents were good people. Isn’t it amazing how two kids can be born of the same couple, raised in the same household, and turn out so differently?”

  “It’s fascinating,” he agrees, leading me into the dining room as he carries our plates. “Wine?”

  “No thanks.” I cut into my steak and take a bite and can only look at Finn in absolute awe.

  “Do you hate it?”

  “Oh my God, Finn, this is delicious.” I take another bite and sigh with pleasure. “Did you go to culinary school?”

  “No,” he says with a laugh. “I just cook what I like to eat. And I don’t like to eat bad food.”

  “Well, this is great.” There are twice-baked potatoes and asparagus on my plate as well, and I dig in with enthusiasm, already forgetting Kyle’s text. “So, how does a successful attorney get to take this much time away from his own firm?”

  “I just wrapped up a big case that I’d been working on for about eighteen months. I was exhausted. The great thing about corporate law is, it’s mostly a Monday-through-Friday gig, unlike criminal law, which I’m sure you know because your dad was also in the corporate law world.”

  I nod, and he keeps going.

  “But there are still some intense cases, and I just finished one. I was going to head back to the office tomorrow to help my brothers with a couple of their cases, but I have a few months before I have to start the heavy work on my next case, so I’ve been able to do a lot of work from here, especially since I’m not taking any new clients at this time.”

  “That’s great,” I reply. “And it’s nice to have a place to get away to, to take you out of the city and away from the root of the stress.”

  “Is that why you came here?” he asks.

  “Part of it,” I confirm. “My parents have had this property since before I was born. From what I’ve heard, Dad got it for a steal and did a ton of remodeling to spruce it all up. So we were here every single summer my entire life. I have a lot of happy memories here, and it’s true that I needed to get out of the city. My apartment in Manhattan is convenient to everything that I love, and also a constant reminder that I don’t get to live that life right now. I couldn’t go to the house in the mountains of North Carolina because that’s the house that burned down, and the house in Connecticut is my parents’ house. It’s where I grew up, my childhood home, and it’s theirs. Does that make sense?”

  “It does.” He reaches over and takes my hand in his, holding on tightly.

  “So I had my doctor in the city refer me to one here along with a physical therapist, and made the decision to recover here. I still think it was the best decision.”

  “I am exceedingly thankful that you made that decision,” he says, and kisses the back of my hand before turning it over and placing a kiss on my palm. “I was immediately attracted to you that day, and I apologize, because it wasn’t really the time or place to hit on you.”

  “You asked me to dinner,” I remind him, earning a sheepish smile. “I was both pissed and flattered.”

  “Well, I didn’t try very hard. You looked so sad. Haunted. And I want to punch the fuck out of Kyle.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “No.” I shake my head and take my hand back so I can cut my steak. “He’s all over the place. I’ve had calls from L.A., Texas, Florida. I’ve been told he’s spent time in Seattle. He just roams about, he doesn’t have a home. And every time he texts or calls it’s from a different number.

  “I don’t even know how the police found him after the fire.”

  “I’d feel better if we knew where he was,” Finn says.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’d rather know than be surprised.”

  “Trust me, he won’t surprise anyone. I go years without hearing from him.” I take a sip of water and another bite of my potato. “It’s nice that you’re close to your family.”

  “They’re a pain in my ass most days, but yes.”

  “What are they like?”

  “You’ll get to see for yourself, I’m sure. Quinn usually comes out here for a week in the summer. He’s also pretty much a workaholic, smart. Younger than me by only a year, and swears he’s never going to settle down.”

  “Famous last words.” I grin. “And Carter?”

  “He’s starting to come back around,” he replies. “Carter used to be the class clown. Funnier than anyone else I knew. He went to school with Quinn, and started dating Darcy, my sister, in high school. They got married just out of college.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Cancer,” he says with a sigh. “Who would have thought that a thirty-year-old woman could die of breast cancer?”

  “I’m so sorry. That’s tragic.”

  “It really was. Carter was completely wiped out. Mom lived with him for about a year so she could take care of Gabby. Not that he was incompetent, he was just so lost.”

  “That’s horrible,” I murmur.

  “This has been a pretty heavy conversation,” Finn says as he pushes his empty plate away. “Maybe we should lighten it up a bit.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Follow me.”

  Chapter Six

  ~Finn~

  I hold my hand out for London’s and smile when she reaches for me and follows me through the kitchen to a room that’s tucked behind it.

  “I didn’t know this was back here,” she says. “You have a playroom.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and watch as London wanders through the room, running her fingers over the pool table, the Ping-Pong table, checking everything out.

  “You want to play pool?” she asks.

  “I was thinking pinball,” I reply, and walk to the vintage machine in the corner of the room. “I can pull a stool up for you if you like.”

  “I’m feeling pretty good,” she says. “And I have to warn you; I’m very, very good at pinball.”

  “Is that right?” I push the button behind the machine that launches the ball without having to put quarters in. “Should I be scared?”

  “Maybe,” she says as I stand aside so she can go first. She pulls back the lever and lets go, propelling the ball in the machine, and for the next few minutes doesn’t miss a trick. Her reflexes are on point, her tongue bitten between her teeth as she plays, and when she does lose the ball, she pouts.

  Adorably.

  “Your turn,” she says, and steps aside. I take my place, set the ball in motion, and just when it reaches the paddle at the bottom, London pulls my hand off the button so I can’t hit it. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “I must have slipped,” she says with a shrug, and pushes me out of the way so she can play again. Her tongue is caught between her teeth again, her blue eyes following the ball intently, and I can’t take my eyes off her.

  Her body is simply amazing. Slightly curvy, but toned and so fucking responsive to me that it’s intoxicating. Her long dark hair begs for my fingers. And I’m always finding something new, like a small scar behind her knee and the birthmark on her ass.

  I think I’ll bite her there later.

  “Damn it,” she says when she loses her ball. “Your turn.”

  “No slips of the hand this time,” I warn her with narrowed eyes, and step up to take my turn. I’m about thirty seconds in when she plants her foot behind my knee, making my leg give out, and I lose the ball. “Seriously?”

  “Are you okay?” she asks with wide eyes. “It looked like your knee buckled or something.”

  “Yeah, because you pushed it.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  I lean in and kiss her. “You’re a dirty cheater.”

  “Me?”

  “You’re the only other one here.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if it makes you feel better
, you can take another turn.”

  I laugh and step back, hands in the air. “No, you take another turn, hotshot. I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be a while,” she says with a sassy grin, and turns her back to me so she can go to work on some pinball.

  I shake my head and walk to the kitchen. I pull the crème brûlée my mom prepared earlier today out of the fridge and sprinkle sugar on top, fire up the blowtorch, and melt it down to a hard, golden brown. Placing the dishes on a tray, I make two decaf coffees, adding a little sugar and cream, add them to the tray, and after grabbing spoons and napkins, I carry it all into the playroom to find London bouncing and yelling at the machine.

  “Take that, you motherfucker,” she says, her voice fierce. “I’ve got you now.”

  “This isn’t the pinball Olympics,” I remind her, and set the tray on the table beside her. “You’re not in the running for a medal or anything.”

  “I might be a little competitive,” she replies, and then sighs when the ball slips by her. “Damn it.”

  “Take a break.” I show her the dessert and hold a chair out for her. “Join me for something sweet.”

  “You feed me all the time,” she says as she cracks into her dessert. “I haven’t eaten this good in years.”

  “It’s just crème brûlée and coffee.”

  “And it’s delicious.” She takes another bite and then a sip of her coffee. “I should probably go home after this.”

  “Why?”

  She stops and meets my gaze, her spoon in her mouth. “Because I live there?”

  “Do you have something pressing to do?”

  “No.”

  “Is it locked up?”

  “Of course.”

  “I want you to stay.” I offer her a bite on my spoon and she takes it. “I’d like to get naked with you again. Hold you while you sleep.”

  I take a bite.

  “I’d like to be with you tonight.”

  “You’re not sick of me already?”

  I take a moment to answer because I don’t want to sound too eager. “No. I don’t see a time in my near future that I’ll be sick of you.”

  “Well, then I’ll stay.”

  She takes a bite as if she’s just told me that she’d like another cup of coffee. As if it’s not a big deal at all.

  Maybe it’s not a big deal for her, but it’s not small for me. I don’t sleep over with women. I don’t invite them into my home for meals and games and sex.

  I don’t do this, yet I can’t stay away from London.

  “Thank you.”

  She finishes her crème brûlée and then smiles at me. “You’re welcome. Now, if I beat you at pinball, you have to stay naked for the rest of the evening.”

  “What if I win?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, you’re not going to win.”

  I laugh as I join her at the machine. “If you’re going to keep cheating, I’m not making this bet.”

  “I don’t cheat,” she insists. “And you might want to go to the doctor to get your equilibrium checked out because you almost fell.”

  “Or, you know, you almost pushed me down.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  I wake up and reach for her in the dark, but the sheets are cool where she was lying not long ago.

  She’s not here.

  I sit up in my bed and rub my hands over my face, then look around the room and pause when I find her.

  She’s sitting on the floor in front of the glass door that leads out to my deck, her knees pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped around them, a blanket wrapped around her. Her nose is practically pressed to the glass.

  I reach for another throw blanket, and rather than ask her to get up and come back to bed, I sit behind her, wrap the blanket around us both, and pull her against my chest while I breathe her in.

  “Are you okay?” I whisper in her ear.

  “Storm’s coming in,” she whispers back. Her eyes are wide as she avidly watches the wind push through the trees. Lightning strikes out at sea, lighting everything up and making London flinch. “I don’t like storms.”

  “I’ve got you,” I murmur, and kiss her shoulder.

  “Did you see the water?” she asks. “When the lightning struck, did you see how choppy it was?”

  “Yes.”

  “I hope there aren’t any ships out there,” she says as the thunder booms and she flinches again. “Seaside storms are so crazy. Violent. Angry. Like a woman who’s royally pissed off and she doesn’t care who knows it.”

  “That’s a good analogy,” I reply. “It does look like someone is having a tantrum.”

  “And it’s destructive,” she adds.

  “What is it about the storm that scares you?”

  “Everything. The wind is wild, it could easily pull something out to sea. The rain isn’t a sprinkling, but more like God is dumping a huge bucket of water all at once. And the lightning and thunder just tips it all into crazy town. It’s loud and bright and messy.”

  “Sounds like life, if you’re living it right,” I reply, and kiss her cheek when she glances back at me. “And sometimes that can be scary too.”

  “This is a deep conversation during a crazy storm.”

  Lightning flashes overhead, and almost immediately thunder claps, and she turns to bury her face in my chest.

  She’s the strongest woman I’ve met in a very long time, and this storm has her reduced to shivering like a child.

  “Hey,” I murmur, and tip her chin up to look at me. “You can’t control the storm, London. It’s going to happen whether you’re scared, or not. But you can calm yourself in it. That’s the trick.”

  “I’ve never been good at that,” she confesses. “I can’t sleep through it, and I feel like I have to watch every second of it, in case something horrible happens and I have to run.”

  I brush her hair off of her cheek and hook it behind her ear.

  “Nothing horrible is going to happen tonight,” I assure her. “In fact, I think some wonderful things are going to happen.”

  “Really?” Her voice and eyes tell me she doesn’t believe me, so I just lower my mouth to hers and kiss her deeply, soaking in every moment with her. She shivers when my fingers drift from her neck, over her collarbone, to her breast, and it’s not from the storm, but from my touch.

  She comes alive when I touch her and it’s fucking amazing.

  “That feels nice,” she says before swallowing hard and turning to me fully now, naked beneath our blankets, a tangle of legs and quiet breaths.

  “You’re beautiful, London. I find it very difficult to keep my hands to myself.”

  “No need,” she says as her eyes drift closed and she leans into my touch. She lets the blanket fall and reaches out to run her fingers down my chest, not stopping until her hand is wrapped around my fully erect cock. She pumps it slowly but firmly and I want to jerk her onto me and have my way with her.

  But that’s not what this moment is all about.

  It’s about forgetting, and discovering new memories.

  Before I can lay her down and touch every inch of her with my mouth, she leans down and brushes her tongue around the rim of my cock, barely touching me but setting me on fire.

  Just when I think I can’t take any more, she slides that sweet mouth over me, then pulls up and just barely scrapes her teeth over my skin, and I can’t sit still anymore.

  I sink my fingers into her hair, gripping hard as she works me over. I can feel the tightening in my balls, the humming in the base of my spine, and I know that if she doesn’t stop right now, I’m going to come in her mouth.

  And as much as I don’t hate that idea, that’s not what I want right now.

  “London.” My voice is gruff, and she doesn’t respond to me, so I tug her up and off of me, stand, and lift her in my arms, carrying her back to the bed.

  “I want to be on you,” she says, her voice sure and strong.

  �
��I won’t argue with that.” I kiss her, letting my lips slip and move over hers as she pushes my shoulders back, urging me to lie down in the middle of the bed. She reaches for a condom, and swiftly rolls it down my length, making my eyes cross. “Christ almighty.”

  “I can’t tell you how good it feels to be able to do this.” She holds me at the opening of her pussy, and slowly lowers herself onto me. Her hands are braced on my chest and she starts to rock back and forth. “I couldn’t sit like this a few weeks ago, and I can do it. It doesn’t hurt.”

  “This should never hurt, sweetheart.”

  She smiles down at me, rocking, barely moving me in or out of her, but she’s rubbing her clit against my pubis, and her muscles are quivering.

  Fuck, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than London looking down at me, the lightning flashing and then leaving her in shadows again.

  “Keep talking,” I urge her, enjoying the sound of her voice.

  “You fill me,” she murmurs, and leans down, covering me, and placing her lips next to my ear. “You fill me up, Finn. It makes my body feel hot. Sexy.”

  “You are sexy.”

  “Powerful,” she says, and bites my earlobe, and I can’t take it anymore. I grip her ass in my hands and roll us, avoiding her bad leg, tucking her under me.

  She lifts her knees, opening herself even wider, and I press down, holding myself inside her. She rests her right ankle on my shoulder. I turn my head and bite her ankle, then press openmouthed kisses there.

  “I thought I was going to be on top,” she says, grinning up at me.

  “I couldn’t help it.” I press my thumb to her clit and smile in satisfaction when she arches her back, tilting her hips and pressing herself even more firmly against me. “You turn me inside out, London. I needed this, to look down at you while I’m inside you. Trust me, you’re no less powerful.”

  “I know.” She licks her fingers and brushes my hand away so she can touch herself. I pull back just an inch and she lets her fingertips glide against my slick cock, wet from her juices, while she presses against her clit. Her womb clenches even tighter around me, and I know that I’m not going to last.