by Palmer, Dee
“I’ll see you back home.” Pink tips his hat and nudges Tramp into a trot, quickly disappearing into the darkness.
“Okay, but really, you don’t have to wrap me in cotton wool. I can take care of myself,” I call after him.
“But you’re ours now, so you don’t have to.” Charge expresses a sentiment they all seem to share with the synchronized nodding from Tug and Toxic.
“Yeah but…” I pout.
“Nuh-uh.” Charge puts his finger across my lips, silencing me. I purse my lips against the light pressure and frown. “It’s my date time now, and that means what?” he asks.
“We do things your way,” I grumble, but my lips twitch with pleasure at his response.
“Good girl.”
SHE PRETTY MUCH PASSED OUT as soon as I laid her down in bed when we got back last night. She wouldn’t eat anything, but did down a tall glass of water. We all took turns checking on her throughout the night, but today is my date, so I decide to let her sleep in and bring her some breakfast before we get started. She’s going to need her energy.
Since it’s a first date, I knock on her door, and there’s no answer. I wait a minute, knock again, and open it in lieu of a third unanswered knock. The bed is empty, and her bathroom door is closed. I place the tray of coffee and pancakes on the bedside table and sit on the bed. After ten minutes of no audible noise, I walk over and tap lightly on the door too.
“Go away!” Finn’s voice is soft and muffled.
“Date day, Finn. I’ve made you breakfast,” I reply, ignoring her request.
“I’m not going on a date.” She sniffs, sounding like she’s crying. My guts clenches, and I fight the hurt that swells deep inside. She doesn’t want to spend time with me. I know Pink won’t have told her about my past; however, maybe she knows. I swallow the pain, because, dammit, I deserve a chance.
“You don’t want to go on a date with me. May I ask why?” I keep my voice as level as I can, but it sounds clipped and gruff.
“No! Not you. I don’t want to go on a date, full stop. I can’t.” She sobs, and I can hear she’s clearly upset, but I smile in utter relief.
“Okay, angel. You wanna, tell me what’s going on?” I coax, my tone more soft and encouraging, now that I know I’m not the problem.
“I…I’m…I don’t want you to see me like this,” she mumbles, and I have my ear pressed to the door in an effort to hear her.
“Like what, Finn?” I push the handle down and press my weight against the door, and it snaps back and clicks locked as soon as it closes. Dammit.
“Charge, can you maybe…um…Can we postpone our date?” Her tone is pitched high, and there’s an underlying panic which worries me. “I’m sick and want to hide under a rock. Trust me, you’ll thank me for this.”
“I doubt it, angel, and no, I’m not postponing. If you’re sick then I need to take care of you. Now open the door.” My tone is stony and uncompromising.
“No! Please, can’t we take a rain check? That’s a thing, right? Rain check?”
“Sure, it’s a thing, but at the risk of repeating myself, which I really don’t like to do, no.” My voice is clipped. “Now open the door, or I’ll break it down.”
“Can you at least close your eyes?” she pleads.
“Finn!” I warn with a deep and deadly serious tone.
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She swings the door wide, and I have to bite my lips to stop from laughing. The mortification in her big, blue eyes makes me think she isn’t in the mood to join me in a chuckle.
“Oh, angel, come here.” I hold out my arms and she shakes her head. Her smooth skin is dotted with dozens of bright red blotches. Every inch of skin is sprinkled with angry-looking, raw spots from her toes to a huge one on the end of her nose. “So in addition to the snake incident, you didn’t happen to roll around in poison oak by any chance?” I clamp my mouth tight as soon as I speak, because I want to snicker, but her sorry-looking pout and soulful eyes are adorable.
“I fell over, but I didn’t roll around. I look hideous, Charge, and it itches like crazy.”
“It really isn’t that bad. Whatever you do, though, don’t scratch, angel. It will make them worse.” Her bottom lips trembles, and big fat tears burst from the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. “Come on, angel. I promise you don’t look so bad.” Not the right thing to say, apparently as she falls forward in a wail of sobs. I wrap my arms around her back and knees, then scoop her up and carry her back to bed. She snuffles and sniffs back the tears, and after a little while, she tips her head up as I look down.
“Better?”
“Not remotely. I feel wretched. How can you even look at me? I’m a hideous freak!” She cries, and I stiffen.
“You think a few marks on your skin bothers me? Because it doesn’t,” I state.
“Well, it bothers me.”
My stomach drops at her words, my jaw clenches, and I draw in a deep breath to steady myself and fix my mask.
“Understandable, but it doesn’t last long.” I keep my voice level and push my gut-wrenching feelings aside; this isn’t a deal-breaker. I don’t expect anyone to be okay with my scars. I’m certainly not fucking okay with them, so I won’t hold that against her. It’s not like she will ever see them, anyway.
“How long?” Her wobbly voice interrupts my nightmare reality.
“A few days, sometimes longer. The key is not to touch them.” I narrow my eyes in warning.
“You know that’s going to be impossible.” Her hand twitches, and she reaches out to her leg. I take her hand and thread my fingers through hers. She needs distracting and so do I.
“How are you feeling other than the itching? Any sickness, diarrhea?”
“Oh, God, kill me now.” She slinks down the bed, pulling her hand from mine to cover her face. “We’re really having this conversation?” she mumbles into her palms.
“Finn, I’m serious. I can’t take care of you if I don’t know what I’m dealing with.” I pull her hands away, and I see that her cheeks are bright red, and her eyes are screwed shut.
“I’m fine, other than the itching.” I can hear the mortification in her voice.
“Okay, good.” I slip off the bed and stand. “Right, drink this water and see what you can eat of the breakfast I made. I’m going to get some lotion that will help and some cuffs.”
“Cuffs?” Her brows shoot up, and her mouth drops; it’s comical and this time I do laugh.
“Date day, remember?” I continue to chuckle when she snaps her jaw shut.
“You can’t possibly want to do anything sexual with me looking like this?” She waves her hand up and down her still-hot-as-hell body.
“Angel, your beauty is soul-fucking deep. So, yeah, as long as you’re not feeling sick, I most certainly can.”
“Won’t the friction from fucking be like scratching?” Her brows knit together, creating a deep crease at the bridge of her nose. Everything she seems to do I find ball-achingly cute.
“Who said anything about fucking?” My lips creep to form one perfectly nefarious grin.
“Oh…Sorry. I thought with the cuffs…” She blushes, and her eyes drop to my crotch, which deepens the hue of her cheeks before she snaps her eyes back to meet mine.
“They are to stop you from scratching,” I clarify, watching her throat contract in a slow swallow.
“So no fucking?”
“Now I didn’t say that, either, did I?” I keep my face impassive, which is a challenge when she throws her head back heavily onto the pillow and lets out a huff of air.
“Gah! You’re frustrating,” she groans.
“You have no idea what frustrating is…yet.” Her eyes meet mine and darken just before I close the door and turn to leave her bedroom.
“How is she this morning?” Pink asks, as I rummage in the medicine cupboard for some calamine lotion. I place it on the counter and level a glare at him he rightly flinches from.
“She got su
nburned, hmm?” He nurses his espresso and shifts uncomfortably on the kitchen stool.
“No. She got poison oak,” I state flatly, and watch his brows lift with surprise. “She locked herself in the bathroom and wouldn’t come out. I had to threaten to break down the fucking door before she would come out.”
“Shit. I didn’t notice any vines, but I’m not allergic, so it probably didn’t even register. Sorry, man. Bummer it’s your date day and all.” He pulls an apologetic half-smile.
“I thought she didn’t want to spend any time with me when she said she didn’t want to date. It stung, but not as much as her reaction to a few damn spots on her skin. She freaked out, Pink!” I can’t hide the hurt in my voice, and he stands and walks around the island counter and faces me. He looks concerned and deadly serious.
“She won’t have meant it like that, man. Not the way you’re taking it…not at all. The ex did a number on her self-esteem. Trust me, the same thing happened yesterday when she thought she was too heavy for me to hold.”
“Hmm.” I huff dismissively. I hear what he’s saying, but I can never share his certainty. This is different. I walk past and grab a couple of water bottles from the fridge.
“How she could look in the mirror and see anything other than fucking perfection is beyond me.” Pink pats my shoulder in an attempt to divert my downward-spiraling thoughts. His question makes my mind flash with her image, and I have to agree.
“Preaching to the fucking choir, brother.” I nudge him out of the way.
“So whatcha gonna do today?” He slides back onto his stool.
“Talk.” I reply and hold his stare.
“Talk?” His intonation is urging for more detail.
“Talk,” I repeat, and he tips his head in understanding, knowing he’ll get nothing more from me. “She might want to postpone the dates with Tug and Toxic until the spots have gone. So if you see them before I do, you might want to warn them.”
“She didn’t get to postpone with you?” he counters. I raise a brow at his question, as if he took a stupid pill for breakfast.
“She didn’t get the choice,” I clarify flatly, making him grin.
“I’ll tell them. If you need help sharing the care, yell.” He offers without any salacious undertones. I take the lotion and add it to the water already in my arm.
“I got this.”
“Yeah, I know man, but I kinda feel responsible.”
“You are responsible.”
“Thanks for making me feel better.”
“It’s not my job to make you feel better, Pinkerton. It’s my job to make Finn feel better, and this is going to help with that.” I shake the bottle of lotion and lightly punch him on the arm as I pass. I’m not mad at him, but I’m not all that happy either.
Finn’s eyes widen when I enter and throw the cuffs and a spreader bar on the bed. It’s not how I had intended to introduce her to my way, but they will work. She’s surreptitiously smoothing her palm across the bumps to ease the itch, but even that’s a bad idea.
“Um, so this is ‘your way’?” She snorts out a laugh.
“No, angel. This is to stop you scratching. My way is…well, you’ll find out soon enough.” I draw my bottom lip in slowly and enjoy the way her eyes fix on my mouth, and she absently mirrors my movement.
“Wow, you keep your cards tight to your chest, don’t you?” She shakes herself to regain her focus, and I fight not to chuckle at the obvious effort.
“How so?” I step slowly around the edge of the bed.
“You don’t like to give much away.” She’s chewing on the inside of her cheek, because the indent is a dead giveaway, I don’t know if it’s due to nervousness or the rash, which must be driving her crazy.
“I will answer any questions you have, Finn. I don’t intend on keeping anything from you, which isn’t to say you get all the gory details right away. After all, we don’t want you running for the hills, do we? Not now that we’ve found you.” Her smile is tentative at my compliment, but her brow is still crinkled.
“There are gory details?”
“There are always gory details.” My tone is far from light, but she looks unfazed by my assertion.
“I don’t mind, and I won’t go running for the hills. If you all are serious about wanting me, all I ask for is honesty. The wife thing is important to me, but…” She hesitates and looks reluctant to continue.
“But?” I encourage her openness; it’s one of the things we all fell for; she’s been frank, honest, and open, right from her very first email.
“I think choosing is going to be an issue.” She purses her lips with the troubling thought, but they’re so soft looking, the perfect shade of pink, and begging to be kissed. I blink to regain my focus.
“We don’t want you to rush your decision. Take as much time as you need.”
“I worry that the dates might not be such a great idea. I think maybe I’m not getting to see the real you. Everyone puts on their game face for a date.”
“You think you aren’t seeing the real us?” My grin widens at her astute observation.
“We all put our best foot forward when we want to make a good impression.”
“True, but the real you always shines through to those observant enough to look.” Her eyes never leave mine, searching for my truth with such intensity I fight to hold her gaze. Regardless of my secrets, the heat between us crackles like a live wire, and the sexual tension is palpable. She breaks first, her smile sweet, and her cheeks pink right up. She lets out a steadying breath, but when her hand reaches to scratch her arm, I catch it in mine and clip the cuff around her wrist.
These have a soft leather layer inside so they won’t chafe or be abrasive at all if she pulls against them, which she will. Her breath catches and her pupils dilate; it’s going to take all my self-control not to fuck her, because she’s right, my body grinding against hers is as bad as her eager little fingers when it comes to scratching. I pull her hand up to the center bar of her wrought-iron bed frame and hold my free one out for her other. She complies instantly, and my cock twitches, swelling uncomfortably in my jeans.
I crawl down the bed and secure her ankles to the spreader bar, before sitting back on my haunches and surveying the sight before me. I tap my finger on my lip and hum my concern.
“Problem?” she asks, already trying to bend her legs at the knees in a fruitless attempt to bring her wide-open thighs closer together.
“I should’ve taken off your clothes before I cuffed you.” I internally berate myself for the rookie mistake, which I blame on her being all kinds of distracting.
“Then I’d be naked!” she squeals and the sound goes straight to my already aching balls.
“That would be the idea. You’re going to want the lotion all over your body, trust me. Clothes are going to be a hindrance.”
“Hmm…really, if that’s a line, I’m not buying,” she scoffs.
“I don’t use lines.” I jump off the bed and turn to leave the room.
“You’re going?” she shouts, utter terror in her voice, draining the color from her face.
“I’ll be back.” I calmly state, trying to keep my expression impassive given how adorable her stunned expression is.
“But what if…” she pauses.
“No one will come in, Finn. This is my day, and I don’t share.” I finish for her, ending the conversation.
“Don’t be long,” she says, her tone tinged with an edge of hysteria. I raise a brow and hover by the door. “Please,” she adds with a nervous smile.
I disappear without responding. I can imagine how hard her little heart is pumping, or how very wet she is by the ever-darkening, damp patch on the silky material between her legs.
I return a short while later and smile when her whole body relaxes. I dump my gym bag on the floor next to the bed.
“You’re going to the gym?”
“Not that kind of gym bag, angel. This is my tool bag.” I hold her gaze and wai
t to see if she’s following me.
“Tools as in…um.”
“I can’t fuck you today, but if you’re very good and beg me nicely, I might keep you distracted some other way.” It must be eighty degrees in this room but the hairs on her arms stand to attention as her skin prickles with goosebumps. Her breath catches and her hips grind into the bed as best they can, given her new restrains. Her whole body shivers and quickly tenses when she sees the flash of the blades in my hands.
“You’re going to cut my clothes off? Isn’t that a little extreme? I kinda like this outfit.” She rushes out her objection, which I brush off.
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
“It’s skintight, Charge, you’ll cut me!” she yelps.
“Only if you don’t hold still.” I slowly crawl onto the bed, my eyes never leaving hers. Her tongue peeks out and drags across her lips. Her cheeks are a deep shade of pink, and her pupils are so dark that the crystal blue part of her eyes looks black. Perfect. I wouldn’t dream of doing this, if she wasn’t responding like she is. She’s covered head to toe in an itchy-as-hell rash, which she needs distracting from. She’s also excited, intrigued, and really turned on. I can smell her aroma, a thick sweet scent that’s completely intoxicating. I straddle her, taking care not to rub my thighs against her and place the blade against her skin, avoiding any of the red marks. I pull the material of her shorts away from her body and start to slice. The material falls to the side, and I do the same with her top. Her breath is deep and slow as she tries to control her racing heart.
I swallow the thick, dry lump clogging my throat. She’s spread wide and naked, so aroused she’s dripping onto the sheet, and I can’t fuck her. I’m not sure who is in more pain at this precise moment. Her, with a mild case of poison oak, or me, with a major case of blue balls.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? I shouldn’t be getting turned on like this, because I’m sick. Well, I don’t feel ill, but I look horrible, which doesn’t seem to bother him, not in the slightest. Jeez, Dave wouldn’t come near me if I had a slightest sniffle. The way Charge’s bright blue eyes darken and his lids droop makes me melt. It’s shocking the effect he has on me, with his glare, his presence, and, oh, God, his touch. I can feel wetness pooling like a well, and with my legs spread like this, I’m a hundred percent sure he can see it, too.