‘Pretending’ being the operative word. It takes all my self-control to stop my knee bouncing up and down.
Inside, a hurricane rages.
I’ve always been afraid—ever since I was a little girl. My mother would fuss over me. When the cancer showed up, it got worse. I was afraid of everything. Needles. Chemo. Radiation. Doctors. Infections. The common cold. Spiders. Cockroaches. Loud noises. Creaky stairs. Death.
My life has been one, long, anxious ride. My mother would say it’s for good reason. She says I need to be careful, in case the cancer comes back. She says I’m not like other girls. Precautions are necessary.
But as the van pulls up to a small airfield, and Kit glances back at me with one of his trouble-making grins, something else grows inside me. A strength I’ve never felt before. Maybe even recklessness.
I’m so sick of being afraid, of not living my life in case something might happen.
What could happen?
I mean, I could die. The parachute could open wrong. I could plummet to my death today.
…So what?
What do I have left to live for? More chemo? The cancer coming back? Living with my mother fussing over me for the rest of my days?
I set my jaw, nodding at my brother. “Let’s do it.”
“Yeah, Esme!” he laughs, glancing at Finn. “I told you she would do it.”
“You planned this together?”
I’d be mad if I wasn’t trying so hard to put on a brave face. Fear still spikes my blood, and it’s all I can do to keep my voice steady.
“He may have mentioned it,” Finn grins. His voice has a gravelly tone to it that I don’t hate. It shakes something loose in my heart, smoothing down the jagged spikes of my fear. He exits the car and opens the van door for me, his big, broad body dominating over mine.
Being near him makes me feel calmer. Finn extends a hand to help me out of the van, and I slip my fingers into his palm. The instant my skin touches his, a sizzle of energy jumps through my arm. It rips through my body, landing somewhere in the pit of my stomach.
I blush. If Finn notices, he doesn’t say anything.
Nodding to the building next to the airfield, Finn guides me to a large, open hangar. “Let’s get you in your jump suit.”
I’m in a daze. I do as he says, trying to keep my circling thoughts at bay. I put on the suit and hold the helmet, goggles, and gloves. Finn briefs me once again on what’s about to happen, but it’s hard to focus.
Is this a mistake? Is this just plain stupid?
It’s safe, isn’t it? Thousands of people skydive every year. There are very few accidents. Less than 0.006 fatalities per thousand jumps in the United States—yes, I looked it up on the drive here.
But how many of those people are recovering cancer patients? How many of them have to wear beanies and wigs because their hair fell out in chunks? How many of them have weakened immune systems? How many of them could deal with infertility, thyroid problems, heart damage?
I glance around the airfield and take a deep, soothing breath. Well—I wish it was soothing. My mind is spiraling. A deep breath doesn’t do shit to calm me down.
As Kit does the final checks on the plane in the distance, my nerves are starting to fray.
Finn tightens the straps on my harness, checking it from top to bottom. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. In the deep recesses of my mind, past the fear and behind the taste of panic, I register that he smells good.
Really good.
Like cedar and oak. Strength and calm, and a little bit of power.
He pulls at a strap near my shoulder, and I jerk forward. I catch myself on his chest, letting a surprised yelp slip through my lips. His chest feels broad beneath my fingers. Strong. I can feel the thumping of his heart before he takes a step back.
He feels warm and safe and alive.
“Sorry about that,” Finn says, his bright green eyes sparkling as they meet mine. “You’re lighter than I expected.”
“You think the straps will hold me properly?” I didn’t mean for my voice to sound so small. “What if I fall out?”
Finn laughs, as if I’m joking. His eyes glimmer, and he jiggles the straps on my shoulders. “Don’t worry, Esme. You’ll be strapped to me. If you go down, we both go down.”
“How comforting,” I deadpan.
He laughs again, and I fight the urge to smile back. His laugh is deep and comforting. There’s something about him that’s just…manly. Maybe it’s the breadth of his shoulders, or the depth of his voice. Maybe it’s the way he moves with complete assurance, as if nothing in the world bothers him.
He’s the opposite of me. He carries himself like fear doesn’t exist in his vocabulary.
A feeling wakes up inside me. Buried deep, it slumbered for a long time. Desire. It opens one eye, ever so tentatively peering at the man in front of me.
Finn glances past my shoulder toward my half-brother and then slides his gaze back to me. “You sure you want to do this? I won’t judge you if you say no.” He arches an eyebrow, and a delicious warmth snakes through my body. It curls in my veins and ignites a fire in my core. Desire groans, opening another eye as it wakes. It shakes the sleep off, sending embers flying through my stomach. The panic welling in my chest quiets down for a moment. Long enough for me to answer.
“I’m sick of being afraid.”
Finn stares at me, then. He looks deep into my eyes, as if he’s trying to read everything inside them. I stare back, jutting my chin out. What can he see, I wonder? Does he see the sick, scared little girl? Or does he see the mask I wear to hide her?
By the way his eyes soften, I’m guessing he sees something different entirely. Past the mask. Past the fear. He sees something deeper.
Me.
Finn nods, turning his attention back to the safety checks on my gear.
My brother’s business partner and childhood best friend is tall. I’d say six foot three, maybe four. At least a foot taller than me. He has a spattering of freckles across his face, light brown hair, and the brightest green eyes I’ve ever seen.
I stare at him, mesmerized. The roar in my ears quiets down for just a moment.
Finn’s gaze is back on my harness, on my suit, on everything except my face, and I continue to stare. His eyelashes are thick and full, and I’m most definitely jealous of them. My post-chemo, sorry excuses for lashes are still sparse and fine.
My eyes land on his lips, and I notice their fullness for the first time. Pink. Lush.
As if he reads my mind, his tongue slides out to lick his lips. Heat gushes inside me. Fire licks the inside of my stomach as Finn sucks his lip between his teeth, focused on checking my harness for safety.
I clear my throat, squeezing my eyes shut.
Fear is a funny thing. It’s making all kinds of heat roll through my body. It’s spiking my blood with desires that I haven’t had in a long time.
I need to jump out of that plane and get this out of my system. The last thing I should be doing is staring at my brother’s best friend, wondering how it would feel to kiss him.
“So, this is the little sister?” a loud voice calls out behind me. I turn to see a tall, shaggy-haired guy not much older than me. He’s wearing a jump suit, but it’s unzipped and tied around his waist. His white t-shirt clings to his muscular frame, and a blush stains my cheeks. I’m not used to being surrounded by so many men.
Not just any men, either.
Everyone around me is big, and manly, and overflowing with testosterone. My head spins.
“Hey, Racer.” Finn’s voice is flatter than it was before. “This is Esme. She’ll be working in the shop.”
“First jump?” Racer nods to my suit.
I gulp. “Yeah.”
His eyes travel down the length of my body before moving back up again. A smirk tugs at Racer’s lips, and I feel Finn stiffen beside me.
Racer stretches his chest out, rubbing his pec with a hand. “I can take you up, if you prefer. I�
�m sure Finn has lots to do in the office.”
“I’m taking her,” Finn cuts in. His voice is dark. He shifts his weight to move closer to me, and a wave of heat washes over my body.
I’m not used to anyone being so possessive over me. Is it wrong that I like it? Is this just some weird response to being afraid?
Kit startles me by clamping his hand on my shoulder. I hadn’t even seen him approach us.
“Ready?” my brother asks.
I nod, gulping. Words don’t come.
Kit glances at Racer. “Thanks for packing up the extra chutes. We just got another booking for this afternoon, so you’ll be taking the plane up with Benji.”
“Is he flying solo? You sure he’s ready for that?”
“He’s got his pilot’s license and put in his hours. The guy’s a better pilot than I am.” Kit’s voice is commanding. I try to keep the surprise off my face. My carefree brother is a leader now.
Racer nods, walking away. I feel Finn relax beside me, his arm brushing against mine. My heart thumps as I turn to glance at him.
Finn stares at me, his emerald eyes sparkling as he arches an eyebrow. Those kissable lips twitch into an appreciative smile, but he says nothing.
The heat in my core roars. My gaze drops to his hands, big, strong, and rough. What would it feel like to have them on my body?
Sucking a breath in through my nose, I chase the thought away.
My brain is playing tricks on me. I’m terrified of jumping out of this plane, and it’s clinging onto the strongest emotion available, which happens to be lust. It’s not real. It’s just my anxiety and fear morphing into something wrong. Something twisted. Something forbidden.
Kit and Finn exchange a few words, then they lead me to the plane. Kit walks ahead and Finn stays beside me. I touch the edges of my beanie, finding comfort in the feeling of the thick, woven stitches beneath my fingers.
Finn’s strength radiates from him as he walks alongside me without saying a word. When we get to the plane, Finn jumps aboard, straddling a long, metal bench. It runs through the guts of the plane and is bolted down to the floor. Hand-holds hang from the ceiling.
I don’t know why I was expecting seats and seatbelts.
My brother’s best friend pats the space between his legs, and the fire in the pit of my stomach grows warmer.
“Come on, Esme. Time to experience free fall for the first time in your life.”
I gulp, stealing a glance at my brother. Kit smiles at me, arching an eyebrow. “You don’t have to do this.”
I pinch my lips, shaking my head. “I’m doing it.”
Climbing aboard, I duck my head and make my way to Finn. He nods to the long bench that runs down the middle of the plane.
“Legs on either side of this. Back to me.” He’s gruff, and I like it. There’s a commanding energy to him now, and it’s only getting stronger the closer we get to the jump.
I swing my leg over the bench and slide backward until I feel his hand on my shoulder. I hear a few clicks, feel a couple of tugs, and then he pulls me closer.
“You and me, Esme,” he says quietly, his breath tickling my neck. “We’re in this together now.”
4
Finn
As soon as Esme is strapped in and leaning against my chest, there’s a strong twinge in my gut. Heat flows down between my legs, and my cock starts to throb.
Shit.
This is bad. Not only has my body decided that Sweeney’s little sister is my next best conquest, but she just happens to be pressed up against me. Strapped down with nowhere to go. My mind flies to all the things I could do to her. All the positions I could bend her into. All the ways I could devour her.
I need to contain this. I shift my body away from her, but I can’t go far. She’s attached to me by half a dozen clips and safety mechanisms. I ball my hands into fists, breathing in through my nose.
This is bad.
The plane roars to life and starts taxiing down the airfield’s runway. It rolls and bumps on the ground, jostling Esme and me closer together.
Not helping the whole boner-for-my-friend’s-little-sister situation.
Breathing in through my nose, I try to calm whatever chaos is happening in my body right now. It’s been getting worse with every minute I spend in her presence. When Racer walked up to us earlier, I could feel the tension stiffening every muscle in my body.
I’m not usually jealous. I don’t usually give a fuck about girls. They do what they want, and I do what I want. Simple.
Usually.
But with Esme? I hated the way Racer looked at her. I hated thinking of any man looking at her like that. That dirty, lustful look on his face made me want to ball my hands into fists and punch him clean across the jaw…
…but if I did, I’d look like a fucking lunatic. We’d also be down a skydive instructor. I’d be taking three steps back in paying back the loan to my father.
I’m also not a violent animal—but mostly it’s the loan thing. Racer deserved a good sock across the face.
“You okay?” Esme asks, turning her head back.
I stare at the column of her neck, itching to trail my fingers from her ear to her collarbone. I could follow the touch with my tongue and hear the kind of moans she makes when she’s turned on.
I clear my throat. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not exactly inspiring me with confidence. You sound more nervous than me.”
My lips twitch. She’s got some fire in her, and a sharper tongue than I expected from someone so slight. When Kit told me his little sister was recovering from cancer, I expected someone…weaker.
“Don’t worry about me, Esme. I’ll be fine. I’ve done this hundreds of times. How are you doing?”
Esme’s quiet for a few seconds before leaning back against me. I close my eyes and try not to groan. Even with harnesses and jump suits between us, it feels good to have her here. She fits against me like she was made to be there.
“I’m good, actually.” She lets out a huff. “I’m not going to lie, I almost chickened out.”
“You still can, if you want.”
“No, I can’t.” Her tone is final. It’s more than just wanting to skydive. It’s almost like she’s trying to prove something to herself.
Why does that turn me on so much?
I’ve seen plenty of people face their fears in this plane. I’ve done tandem skydives with hundreds of people who were scared shitless, then did it anyway.
Esme is different, though. Her fear is deeper, and her fight is stronger. I can see it in her eyes. In the set of her jaw. In the way she throws her shoulders back whenever she’s challenged.
She wears her anger like a mask, but I can see right through it. The black clothes, the scowl, the sharp tongue—it’s all an act. Deep down, she’s scared.
And she’s doing this anyway.
I grip the edges of the steel bench and close my eyes again. The plane picks up speed, and I know we’ll be in the air soon. As soon as I feel the plane nose up, Esme grabs my thighs with her hands, her fingers digging into me. Fire sparks in my core.
This is too much.
This is my job. I’ve done this a hundred times with a hundred pretty girls. A lot of them were so hopped up on adrenaline that they practically tore my clothes off as soon as we hit the ground. I never complained. I never said no, either.
This is different.
Esme isn’t just some pretty girl getting her first real hit of adrenaline.
For one, she’s Kit Sweeney’s little sister. I’ve known Sweeney my entire life. We grew up together in Woodvale. We were best friends. Still are! We spent every waking moment together from the time we met in preschool to the time he left town at thirteen, when he went to live with his dad and stepmom.
I didn’t even know Esme existed until a couple of weeks ago, when Sweeney said she was coming to spend the summer. He floated the idea of her running the shop for us, and I agreed. Saved me having to do a bunch of b
oring paperwork.
Sweeney is my business partner. He was my closest childhood friend, and once he came back to Woodvale, we picked up right where we left off. He’s practically family.
I can’t think of his sister like this. Can’t. Under no circumstances. Completely unacceptable.
Plus—she’s a recovering cancer patient. I may be a playboy piece of shit, but I’m not an actual piece of shit. I’ll go after pussy all day long, and I’ll gladly let an adrenaline-flooded woman use me and abuse me after a skydive, but I’m not going to do that to Esme.
She’s not here for a cheap thrill. I can see in her eyes that there’s nothing cheap about her.
But as much as I try to tell myself these things, my body doesn’t exactly seem to agree. She wriggles her butt closer to my crotch, and I do my best to keep my breath steady. I thank everything that’s holy for the thick canvas material of the jumpsuit—it’s doing a great job hiding the bulge between my legs.
Esme moves her hands from my thighs when the plane levels out. Thank fuck. She moves her finger along the edges of her beanie, which she kept on underneath her helmet. She tucks and re-tucks the edge of it into her jump suit. It’s a nervous tic. Her finger moves back and forth along the black fabric, pulling it down and smoothing it out over and over again.
I slide my hands down my thighs, leaning into her. “When we get to fifteen thousand feet, Kit will open the door.” I point to the roller door at the back end of the plane. “Just like I explained earlier, we’ll slide down the bench and sit on the edge of the plane.”
“Okay.” Esme’s voice is small. “My legs will just be…hanging?”
I chuckle, nodding. My face moves closer to her head, and I catch a hint of her scent. Sweet and delicate, she smells like a garden in bloom. My breath catches, and I have to clear my throat.
“That’s the best part. When you sit on the edge of the plane, wondering if you’re actually going to go through with it.”
“I’m sure you’re used to it by now.”
Can't Have You: A Stand-Alone Brother's Best Friend Romance Page 3