I shake my head, and Esme shifts to look over her shoulder.
“You never get used to fear. It’s too primal. It’s like happiness, or disgust, or—”
“Desire.”
My heart thumps. I gulp. “Yeah.”
“You can’t help feeling that. It just happens.”
Does she hear herself? This girl will be the death of me. Here I am, trying to stop the crotch seam in my pants from bursting open, and she’s talking about not being able to stop lust from taking over.
I take a deep breath. “The trick is to acknowledge the fear, and then jump anyway,” I finish, attempting to keep my voice as neutral as possible. I don’t quite succeed. The gravel in my voice betrays the chaos in my body.
Esme pauses, her head turned to look just beyond her shoulder. She stares at the side of the plane, taking a deep breath.
“I never thought of it that way,” she says.
“It’s the best feeling in the world. Better than sex,” I add, before I can stop myself. My body temperature cranks up another couple of degrees.
“Better than bad sex or better than good sex?” Esme asks, not missing a beat. Her lips twitch up at the corner, and I try my best not to react.
She’s nestled in between my legs, her tiny body sheltered within mine. Her back is pressed against my chest. Her legs touching my legs. For a second, I almost forget we have straps and harnesses and layers of clothing between us. I tug at the fabric near my neck, trying to cool down my burning body.
I clear my throat. “Better than good sex. Nothing comes close to this. Adrenaline is something else.” I close my eyes, thankful that Sweeney isn’t hearing this conversation right now. He’d make me wish I did die when we jump out of this plane.
Esme chuckles, turning her head completely to look at me. Whiskey eyes stare back at me, with little flecks of fire burning within them. “Maybe you haven’t had good sex, so you have nothing to compare to the thrill of a skydive.”
“I doubt that.”
Her eyes darken. “Why, because you’re some Sex God sent to earth for the purpose of pleasing us mortal women?” She rolls her eyes. “Please. You probably wouldn’t know good sex if it hit you in the face.”
“Kinky,” I grin.
Esme laughs, a blush staining her cheeks.
The longer this conversation goes on, the less appropriate it’s getting. My body’s already raging. My mind is at war. Chaos is king inside me, and this chick keeps talking about sex, and lust, and desire.
Is she doing this on purpose? Can she feel the wood between my legs? Is she torturing me for her own, sick pleasure?
Would I care if she were?
The warning on the roller door beeps, and I know we’ve reached the jump altitude. The automated door starts moving up, and the rush of the wind deafens the sound of the engines.
She twists her neck further to look at me square in the eyes. She has to scream over the sound of the air whipping past the growing opening in the plane, but her words come through, loud and clear:
“This skydive better blow my fucking mind, Finn. Otherwise I already know what kind of lover you are.”
5
Esme
My feet dangle into space. Our plane passes through a cloud, partially obscuring the ground far, far below. With my heart in my throat, I don’t have the capacity to think about the conversation I just had with Finn.
I know it was inappropriate. I blame the nerves. The fear that’s supposedly better than sex, according to my brother’s best friend.
Why would I say those things? I’ve only had sex a handful of times with my high school sweetheart, who dumped me when the cancer got bad. If anyone doesn’t know good sex from bad, it’s me.
One thing I am good at? Pretending to be tough and talking out of my ass. I’m especially good at it when it’s completely inappropriate to the situation.
Pulse hammering, knees weak, I stare into the void.
My fear arcs up, rearing its head like a familiar, ugly monster. It starts at the base of my skull, a prickling sensation that makes its way down my spine. As I stare at the nothingness before me, the prickling becomes an icy cool jet coursing through my veins.
Fear roars loud and clear, telling me to stop. Turn back. Don’t do it.
Be safe.
But today, I’m not alone with my fear. There’s a presence behind me, warm and comforting. Strong arms at my side. Legs encasing mine.
Finn Gallagher.
He reaches his hand in front of me and makes an ‘okay’ sign with his fingers. I remember this from the safety briefing. I’m supposed to mirror the symbol, right before we launch ourselves into space with nothing but a few straps and a nylon parachute to save us.
Fear fights. It roars. It drowns out the rush of the wind and the hum of the engines. It steals Finn’s words from his lips, so all I can hear is terror. It grips my throat, squeezing tight. Fear fights me, expecting me to lose.
Because up until now, I’ve always lost. I’ve cowered. I’ve hidden, tucked away safe in my mother’s arms. I’ve crumpled.
But that was before I agreed to jump out of a plane. That was before Finn tightened the straps on my harness and clipped my suit to his. That was before my feet dangled out of the plane.
I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t let my fears control me. Beat me down. Keep me small.
Terror screeches. Deafening. Piercing. Blood-curdling. It battles with my mind, begging me to turn back. To stop this madness and take the plane down to safety.
There would be no shame in it, would there? Finn would understand. Kit would understand. He pushes me to do things I wouldn’t normally do, but he never forces me when he knows I’m afraid.
I close my eyes.
“Esme?” Finn says, his lips near my ear. “You ready?”
My mind is a battleground. Fear has burned my crops and salted the earth. It’s razed everything I’ve ever tried to build. Fear has destroyed me from the inside out. For years, the battle has tipped in terror’s favor.
But as Finn’s warmth makes my blood stir, something changes inside me. His presence is strong. Comforting. Right.
Fear won’t win. Not anymore.
Before I can change my mind, I lift my fingers up and give Finn the symbol. My index finger touches my thumb, and I give him the okay to drop through the sky with me.
He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t wait for me to change my mind.
In an instant, we’re falling. I spread my arms and legs, arching my back in the banana shape Finn showed me during the briefing. My body fuses to his. As the wind steals my words, rushing past me in an icy blast, Finn’s warmth is always there.
He’s solid and strong behind me, exactly where he’s meant to be.
We fall down, down, down. The plane flies away, and I’ve already forgotten it. Its engines fade, and Finn and I are alone. Plummeting through the sky at a hundred and twenty miles per hour.
I should be afraid. The ground is getting closer. The parachute still isn’t open. There are a million things that should be terrifying me right now.
But the truth?
All I feel is exhilaration. Pure, white-hot adrenaline. It feels like an injection straight to the heart. Like I’ve plugged myself into an electrical socket and flicked the switch. I let out a scream, emptying myself of all the things that have stopped me before.
Goodbye, Fear. Goodbye, Terror. Goodbye, Death. Cancer. Illness.
What matters except this feeling?
Then, behind me, Finn lets out a scream of his own. I laugh, giving him another ‘okay’ sign with my fingers, and I scream again.
I was wrong to doubt him. This is better than sex. Better than any sex I’ve ever had, anyway. Better than good sex and mediocre sex and definitely better than bad sex. Better than my high school sweetheart writhing on top of me for two and a half minutes. Better than the vibrator I bought off the internet. Better than anything I’ve ever experienced.
I’ve never felt more alive—and
for someone who’s danced with death for the past six years, that’s saying a lot.
When Finn pulls the chute, it tugs us upward until we slow down to a gentle float. I still can’t speak. The air is freezing up here, making me lose the feeling in my hands even with thick gloves on. My goggles mist up as I stare at the landscape below, and I do my best to wipe them clean.
Then, Finn shifts, and the straps that attach us give out. I drop.
I scream. Terror comes roaring back with a vengeance, gripping my whole body with its icy claws. For a heart-stopping instant, I think I’ve detached from him—but I’ve only dropped down an inch or two.
He laughs, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Gets first-timers every time. I’m just making this a little more comfortable for us.”
“You could have warned me,” I say, trying to smack his leg. My hand just drifts over him, and I pull it back. Touching him is dangerous. It awakens the desire inside me a little too much for my liking.
It’s silly, really. I’ve spent the last twenty minutes pressed up against him. I’ve felt the heat spark between my thighs when he pulled me close to his chest. I teased him, taunted him, and did my best to flirt with him as I kept fear at bay.
Now, as we’re floating through the air, and fear is just a distant memory?
My cheeks burn too much to touch him. My eyes roam over the countryside, carving out the cliffs that are on every postcard of Woodvale. The Pacific Ocean extends far to the horizon in the west, and lush forests extend to the east. Finn directs our parachute toward a patch of open pastures in between the forest and the ocean.
In the distance, I can see speedboats carving out white wakes in the blue ocean. The waves crash against the cliffs, but I’m too far away to hear them. I can only see the evidence of the spray as a thin white line against the rock face. Lush, grassy pastures extend below us, until they meet the dense forest. It looks like a carpet from up here.
The town of Woodvale looks like a toy village, nestled in the emerald hills.
The airfield is visible below us, and Finn directs our path toward a field behind the big hangar. On the other side of the building, the runway extends like a little strip of black on an otherwise green landscape. I let out a sigh, scanning the horizon for any sign of Kit’s plane. He must be doing a big loop to give us time to land.
“What do you think?” Finn asks. I smile at the sound of his voice. Even now, when my terror has subsided, he brings me comfort.
I nod. “It’s amazing.”
My heart thumps. We’re alone up here. Floating. Unencumbered. My back to his front.
Is this better than sex? Maybe. But the truth is, how the hell would I know? I haven’t had sex with anyone in years, and when I did, I was an awkward teenager who didn’t know her own body.
Being strapped to Finn—feeling his warmth and his strength, inhaling his scent—that’s at least as thrilling as jumping out of a plane. Our bodies are close enough to touch, and he’s the only thing between me and certain death. That’s thrilling, too.
Finn makes a noise, then, like a low growl that rumbles in the depths of his chest. I feel it more than I hear it. It vibrates through me, knocking against my ribcage as if it’s asking to be let in.
We float in silence until it’s time to land. No talk of sex, or fear, or the way Finn’s voice makes my body want to melt.
6
Finn
Esme lands expertly, keeping her legs straight out ahead as we slide on our butts until we stop on the grass. The chute floats down to the ground in front of us, collapsing in a bright yellow heap.
I unclip my harness from Esme’s and she jumps up, laughing. I stand up beside her, grinning.
When she turns around, her eyes are bright and her cheeks are rosy. She giggles, and the sound of pure happiness reverberates through my chest.
She gets it. She gets it. She felt that feeling that I was talking about, right before the roller door opened. She felt the rush. The spike of adrenaline followed by total, all-encompassing serenity.
Esme surprises me when she jumps toward me and flings her arms around my neck. I stumble back and then catch myself, wrapping my arms around her waist. Her body molds into mine. Breasts pressed against my chest, arms clinging onto me.
She’s panting, her whole body trembling against mine. Her arms, thin and wiry, cling onto me with a surprising amount of strength. Heat rips through me. My breath is short and sharp, and all I can do is wrap my arms around her.
We hold each other, smiling, until Esme pulls away and plants a kiss on my cheek.
Am I…am I blushing right now?
I clear my throat. “You enjoyed that?”
“Finn, that was incredible.” Her eyes shine. She inhales deeply, throwing her head back and staring at the sky.
“And was I right?”
“About what?” The redness on her cheeks deepens, and Esme steals a glance my way.
She knows what I mean. I grin as I start unclipping the parachute from my back. “About the jump being better than sex. Good, bad, middling.” I arch an eyebrow, glancing at her.
Esme meets my eye, her gaze full of fire. Whiskey eyes, rimmed in black. Embers swirling within them. She ignites something in my center, and I wonder if I even believe myself.
What if adrenaline isn’t better that sex? What if she’s right, and I’ve been lying to myself this whole time? What if I’ve never really felt the kind of pleasure that she’s talking about? I’ve been settling on cheap thrills, always chasing more, when I could have found something better with my feet firmly planted on the ground?
The girls I go for mean nothing to me. Of course adrenaline is better than that sex.
But someone like Esme…
I shake my head. Bad brain. I can’t go there. No way. I can’t do that to Sweeney. To my friendship with him. To our business.
To Esme. I can’t pursue her. She’s too pure for me.
“It was good,” she finally replies, turning away from me. Her eyes land on Kit’s plane as he makes his final approach to the runway.
Her neck is flushed. Her cheeks are painted red. If I could see her ears under that beanie of hers, I’d bet the tips would be bright crimson.
I don’t push it.
I shouldn’t be talking to Sweeney’s little sister about sex, anyway. Gathering the parachute in a big pile, I hold it against my chest and nod toward the corrugated iron shed beside us. “Let’s go back in there. I’ll get you a cold drink and you can change out of that jump suit.”
My throat tightens. Why is a lump lodging itself in there? Is it because the thought of Esme changing out of her clothes makes my cock stand to attention?
Esme doesn’t notice. She flashes a blinding smile at me, nodding. “You need any help with that?”
I shake my head. “It’s light. Got to get it inside so I can check the chute, let it dry, and re-pack it.”
She nods, tucking her thumbs into her harness. Her head is thrown back as she takes a few deep breaths. I watch her as we walk back, wishing I could crawl into that head of hers and see what she’s thinking.
Has she had the same thoughts I have? Has she wondered what it feels like to be naked next to me? Does she feel the spark between us, growing stronger with every passing second?
Or, maybe I’m a piece of shit lusting after his best friend’s little sister, who happens to be a recovering cancer patient. Shaking my head, I try to clear my thoughts.
I need to stop. Get a fucking grip. Control my thoughts and keep my body in check.
Esme might be a little punk-wannabe-goth girl with a bright smile and a spark in her eye. She might be the first girl in years who makes me want to get to know her, and not just take her to bed. She might be different from everyone else, because she understands pain the way I understand it. Because she’s gripping life by the neck, the way I try to do every day.
But she’s off-limits. She’s not mine to take. She’s Sweeney’s little sister, for fuck’s sake! What kind
of asshole am I, really? Would I really pursue this girl when I know she’s leaving in three months? When it’s her first time away from home? When she just stepped out of the oncology ward a couple of months ago?
No. I won’t do that to her.
We get to the building and I push open the door to let Esme in. She flicks her eyes toward me, smiling shyly. A tendril of heat wanders through my stomach and settles near my thighs. I have to look away. Esme heads toward the restroom, and I can’t help myself from lifting my eyes again to watch her walk away.
I never thought I’d say a jump suit was sexy. I never thought someone would look good in one of these things, but I swear, Esme looks like it was made for her. Her butt sways from side to side—small, round, and perky. The thick, canvas material hugs her slight curves as she walks, until she pauses and turns around.
Clearing my throat, I pretend to fuss with the parachute in my arms.
“Hey!” Esme calls out.
I glance up. “Yeah?”
She stares at me across the distance. I can hear Sweeney landing the plane outside, the roar of the engines dampened by the building’s walls. He’ll be here in mere minutes, and I need to get my treacherous thoughts under control by then.
Esme tilts her head, the top of her jump suit already unzipped. My eyes drift down to the hint of collarbone that’s exposed, and fire rages within me.
She smiles then, just a slight tug at the edge of her lips. “Thanks,” she says simply.
It’s her eyes that say so much more. She stares into me the way she did when she walked into the shop. Peering through me. Within me.
Her gaze speaks volumes. It’s full of heat and desire. It lingers on my eyes, and then drops to my lips, my chest, my hands. She flicks her eyes back up to mine, flashes another smile at me, and turns toward the restroom.
As soon as the door closes, I let out a long sigh.
This girl nails me to the floor with one look. She fills my head with dirty thoughts with a glance. She sets my body alight with nothing more than a touch. A word. A smile.
Can't Have You: A Stand-Alone Brother's Best Friend Romance Page 4