I need her. I need to have her. Fully. Completely. I need to take every strip of clothing off her and worship her. I want to fill those eyes with lust and make her scream my name into a pillow. Make her fingers twist into bedsheets as I bring her to ecstasy.
I need her like I need air. Like I need food. Like I need adrenaline.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to regain control over my racing heart.
What I need to do is fucking forget about her. Keep her at arm’s length. Stay away from her.
A low whistle makes me turn my head. Racer’s eyes are glued on the restroom door. “She’s something else, huh? Wonder if she’s as tough as she looks. Probably a fucking maniac between the sheets.”
Benji, our new part-time pilot and a mechanic in town, snorts from a chair in the corner. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that, Racer?”
“Don’t pretend you weren’t thinking it.”
Benji rolls his eyes.
“Shut the fuck up, Racer,” I spit, dumping my parachute on a tarp laid out on the ground. “That’s Sweeney’s little sister.”
Sweeney steps through the door, arching an eyebrow at the three of us. “Everything all right?”
I nod, a boulder lodged in my throat. I can barely look him in the eye. “Everything’s fine.”
Kit glances around the room. Racer avoids his gaze, and Benji turns his attention back to his phone. Anger spikes inside me when I glance at Racer’s face. At least Benji agrees that he’s a dirtbag.
“How’s Esme?” Kit asks. “Did she do okay?”
“She loved it.” I jerk my chin toward the ladies’ room. “Getting changed.”
Sweeney lets out a long sigh, blowing the air out of his mouth as he nods. “That’s a relief. She looked like she was freaking the hell out when we got in the plane. I wasn’t sure she’d actually go through with it.”
I glance at the closed restroom door as my heart riots within me. “Well, she went through with it,” I answer. “She did good.”
Kit calls out to Racer and Benji, asking them to double-check the gear and the plane for the skydives we have booked for the rest of the day. I start laying out the parachute on the tarp, but my thoughts are elsewhere. My mind takes me back to the plane, when Esme’s body was strapped to mine. When she gripped my thighs. When she leaned against me. When her smell was all around me, and I felt the strength and determination well up inside her.
She did it, because she’s incredible. Strong. Resilient. Hot as all hell.
And completely, utterly off-limits.
7
Esme
When I’m finished changing out of the suit, I glance at myself in the mirror. Hot coals are still burning in my veins. The whisper of Finn’s scent and the memory of his body’s warmth are swirling in my mind.
Is it the skydive that’s making me feel this alive? Or is it something else?
It’s been years. Years. I haven’t felt any kind of desire for a long, long time. I was so focused on staring down death, that I didn’t realize what I was missing.
But in a couple of hours, Finn has awoken something inside me. He’s reminded me what it feels like to be a woman. To feel something other than fear, anger, and bitterness.
Sure, over the years I’ve scratched the itch. I’ve given in to the need for release. But being alone in my bedroom with a vibrator I ordered off the internet isn’t exactly the same thing as having a big, broad, brooding, hot-blooded man with his arms wrapped around me. It’s not the same as feeling a groan rumble through his chest. It’s not the same as having his scent envelop me. His arms encase me. His legs press against mine.
Pulling my black beanie off my head, I glance in the mirror.
My heart sinks.
What chance do I have with a guy like Finn? Thin, buzzed hair that’s growing back at a snail’s pace. Skinny, post-chemo body that could belong to a fourteen-year-old boy. I don’t have any curves to speak of. If I didn’t wear makeup, I’m pretty sure I’d be mistaken for a prepubescent kid.
I’ve spent the last six years focused on one thing, and one thing only: staying alive. Fighting the sickness in my body. Trying to outrun death.
For the first time in a long time, I’m seeing the toll it’s taken on my physical self. Really seeing it. Is this the kind of body that a man would even want?
It’s hard to have such a disconnect between my body and mind. In my mind, I’m the old me. I’m strong. I’m feminine. I’m a fighter.
But to the outside world?
Small. Weak. Vulnerable.
I wrap my flannel shirt around my body and pull my hat down over my ears. I reach into my purse and fix my makeup. My war paint. With each swipe of mascara, I put my mask back on. Turning away from the mirror, I trudge out of the bathroom.
I feel like a deflated balloon. Like a parachute, sinking down to earth. The euphoria that I felt when we landed has evaporated.
But then, from across the room, Finn lifts his head. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he sees me, his eyes running down the length of my body and back up again.
Fire roars to life in my belly again. My nipples pucker, and I don’t even care that my chest is mostly flat. I clench my thighs together, holding his gaze.
What does he see when he stares at me? Is it the same thing I see? The fire in his eyes makes me think he’s looking at something else entirely.
Kit comes out of an office in the corner, his face splitting into a smile. “Esme!” He spreads his arms, striding toward me. When he wraps me in a big bear hug, the insecurities that welled up inside me a minute ago drift away. I smile, hugging my brother back.
“How was it?” he asks.
“Amazing.”
“Finn was all right?”
“He was perfect.” I lean my head against Kit’s shoulder and let out a sigh. He puts his arm around me and squeezes, leaning his chin on my head.
“I’m proud of you, Es.”
“Yeah?”
“I knew you’d do it, but there’s always a chance that someone will decide not to when the roller door opens.”
“I hesitated.”
Kit chuckles, pulling away from me. He shoves my shoulder, shaking his head. “You’d never let something as piddly as a skydive get the best of you. You’re the toughest person I know.”
“Piddly isn’t exactly the word I would use.”
His smile widens, and he ruffles his hand over my head. I yelp, pulling the edges of my hat down. My eyes dart across the room, where Finn is busy tending to the parachute.
I wish I wasn’t insecure. I wish I could rip this hat off and show my bald head off for the world to see.
But I can’t.
I can’t stand the stares. The pity. The sorrow. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. I don’t want anyone’s pity or niceties.
I just want to be normal.
I want to have guys look at me like something other than a little, sick sister.
Finn doesn’t look up, and I gulp down my insecurities. I steal a glance around the room, and I’m slightly relieved when I don’t see Racer. Something about him rubs me the wrong way.
I force a smile and glance at my brother, letting out a sigh. “Thanks for taking me up.”
“Won’t be the last time,” he grins. “We’ll have you jumping solo by the end of the summer.”
“I don’t know about that,” I laugh. “Once was enough. I like my feet on the ground.”
Kit heads to a fridge and pulls out a bottle of water. He tosses it to me and I catch it against my chest, grateful that he’s here. He manages to push me out of my comfort zone and make me feel safe, all at the same time.
When I twist the bottle cap open and take a swig, I grimace.
Kit tilts his head. “Water okay?”
“It’s the chemo,” I explain. “Messed up my taste buds. They’re still not back to normal.”
“They will be soon,” Kit says, sounding surer than I feel. My brother heads for the doo
r, lifting an arm in Finn’s direction. “See you in town, Finn. I’ll take Esme back and get her settled at my place.”
Finn nods. “We’re going out to the Blue Cat tonight. Me, Max, Sacha. I think the girls are coming. You two should join.”
Kit glances at me, arching an eyebrow. “Maybe,” he says, staring at me. “We’ll see how we feel.”
My eyes slide over to Finn, who stands up and lifts a hand in my direction. “Good work today, Esme.” His eyes, sharp and green, flick down to my lips.
That’s not the look of someone who’s thinking of a sick little sister. Not someone who sees a prepubescent boy. Electricity jumps in my veins. Sparks fly in the pit of my stomach, ignited by the heat of his stare.
I like it when he looks at me like that. I don’t want him to stop.
A blush stains my cheeks, and I duck my chin down before following Kit through the door. He leads me to the company van in silence, letting me settle into the passenger seat without saying a word.
When we’re on the road, Kit glances at me. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look flushed.”
The redness on my face deepens. I nod, forcing a smile. “I’m great.”
“We don’t have to go out tonight if you don’t want to,” he adds. “I’m more than happy staying at home and spending a quiet night in. You’ll be starting work tomorrow, so you might want to rest.”
I shake my head. “I want to meet your friends.”
“You have all summer to meet them, Esme. I took you away from home and made you jump out of a plane. Don’t you think that’s enough for one day?”
Taking a deep breath, I stare at my brother. “Are you going to turn into Lydia, now? I thought I left my helicopter mother at home.”
Kit chuckles, lifting his fingers off the steering wheel as he nods. “Okay, okay. Point taken. The girl wants to go out.”
“Don’t coddle me.”
“I just threw you out of a plane, Es,” Kit answers. “That’s hardly coddling.”
“Technically, Finn threw me out,” I answer, cracking a smile.
My brother chuckles, nodding. “You’re a piece of work, Esme. No wonder the cancer couldn’t get you.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
I try to look tough, but I can’t quite keep the smile off my face. My brother lets out a deep breath and turns on the radio, and we ride back without saying much more. I can hear his phone buzzing in his pocket, but when I point it out, Kit just waves a hand.
Taking a deep breath, I shrug and look out the window. My heart is still thumping erratically, and my thoughts drift back to a certain green-eyed beauty of a man.
I replay the last couple of hours in my mind over and over again. I close my eyes and think about the way it felt to have Finn behind me, his chest against my back. His arms alongside mine. His thighs pressing against my hips.
I liked it more than I had a right to.
It wasn’t the adrenaline of the jump. It was the adrenaline of having a man beside me. Touching me. Feeling me. Looking at me the way Finn did.
Screw the skydive—I want to feel that again. I want more. I want Finn…but that scares me even more than jumping from a plane.
8
Finn
The Blue Cat bar is crowded. It smells like beer, cologne, and bodies all packed into one space. I spot Sacha at a booth in the corner. Willow is beside him, her hand resting on his lap.
My heart twinges, and I frown.
Why do I care if they look happy together?
Willow leans over and whispers something in Sacha’s ear, and his face breaks into a smile. They live in a little world of their own, unencumbered by the drinking and revelry happening around them. It’s like a little bubble of love that exists around them.
And I…I’m jealous of that?
Is that what I’m feeling right now? Envy?
I always thought Sacha was whipped. When he asked me for my father’s contact details last year, I thought he was asking for trouble. I mean, going after his father’s investors? Risky.
Doing it for Willow, the girl he hadn’t seen for a decade?
Straight-up stupid.
When I look at them now, though, after the dust has settled, I wonder if maybe he had it right all along. Willow laughs at something, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. Her head lifts up and she spots me across the bar, raising a hand as she smiles.
Sacha follows, and Max turns around in his chair.
“I knew you’d be here,” he laughs, standing up to clap me on the back. “Gallagher hasn’t been able to resist a party since we were in high school.”
“All right, all right,” I grin, taking a seat on the booth side of the table. My eyes scan the room, but I don’t see any sign of Sweeney—or Esme. I try to ignore the sinking in my chest.
A beer lands on the table in front of me. Isabelle, Max’s wife, hands out more drinks. “I heard you met Kit’s little sister today.”
“News travels fast.” I smile at them.
“Sweeney has a sister?” Sacha tilts his head. “Since when?”
“Half-sister,” I explain. “Since always.”
“We’ll make sure you stay away from her,” Max grins. “Don’t want another Willow-Sacha situation happening.”
“What situation?” Willow exclaims in mock outrage. “You mean you don’t want Finn to find true love in an unexpected place? That’s cold, Max. You got used to the idea of Sacha and me being together pretty quickly.”
“I pretended to,” Max shoots back. He puts his arm around Isabelle and leans over to kiss the tip of her ear—and I get the distinct feeling that I’m the fifth wheel.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see the door open. I sense her before I see her. I know she’s here, and my heart sings. I’m definitely not supposed to be this happy about seeing Sweeney’s little sister.
Turning my head, I see the familiar black beanie. Eyes the color of honey. Pink, bitten lips. A punk-rock attitude.
Tonight, she’s wearing a tight, black tank top and the same ripped jeans as this morning. The black fabric slashes across her legs, revealing milky, mouth-watering skin underneath. Around her neck, a black choker draws my eye.
Hot.
Wrong.
So, so wrong.
Her eyes land on mine, and for a moment, I don’t hear anything. No noise. No talking. No music. No clinking of glasses or boisterous, drunken laughs.
It’s just me and Esme. A short, skinny, all-black, Converse-wearing chick that’s the exact opposite of everything I thought I wanted. She wears her anger like armor, protecting herself from everything around.
But I see through it. I see her. The sweet, fiery girl underneath. The one who had a skydive sprung on her this afternoon and did it without question. The one who fought cancer and won.
She’s already gotten under my skin. The crack in my heart opens a little bit wider, aching for her touch.
Sweeney steps in front of her, and her spell dissipates. Esme’s big brother dips his chin down at us, gesturing at her to follow.
When they get to our table, greetings are exchanged all around. I slide down the booth, and Esme takes a seat next to me. Her thigh presses against mine, and I bury my face in my beer to distract myself from the inferno raging inside me.
Stealing a glance at her, my eyes drift up her slim neck and over that little black choker that’s somehow driving me crazy. One thin strip of black fabric has the power to give me wood.
Her lips are pink and glossy. Her eyes are rimmed in black liner, and all I want to do is drift my fingers over her jaw and crush my lips against hers.
Drawn by my gaze, Esme turns her head. Her eyes shine as she stares at me. She tilts her head. “What?”
“I, uh, I like your necklace.” I clear my throat. Have I always been this awkward?
Her fingers drift to her neck, and I notice her nails are painted a glossy, bright, bubblegum pink. Why is that so surprising? Everything about Esme is like a
discovery to me. She shocks me constantly, just by being who she is. I peel back layer after layer, discovering that she’s not at all what she looks like.
I put my hand on my thigh, and the edge of my pinky finger brushes against her jeans. I feel the frayed edge of one of the rips, and then the smooth, warm skin of her leg. Sparks fly up my arm. Fire roars in my veins. The slightest touch from the tip of my finger makes me feel like I’ve just been struck by lightning.
What would it feel like to be inside her? To have my arms wrapped around her and my cock buried to the hilt?
Esme doesn’t pull away from the touch. I see her swallow, and then she presses her thigh ever so slightly into mine. My heart hammers against my ribcage. I know my friends are talking about something, but I don’t have the mental capacity to join the conversation.
The only thing I can think about is a little strip of skin that happens to be touching the very tip of my finger. It consumes my brain, like a blaze ripping through dry underbrush in a forest fire. One whoosh, and I’m finished.
Esme nudges my thigh a tiny bit more, and my pants feel like they’re about to burst. I’m so fucking hard every time Esme is near me. It’s wrong. It shouldn’t be happening. It’s out of control.
And I can’t get enough of it. I’d throw her over my shoulder and take her out back right now, if I could. I’d tear those black jeans off her skinny legs and make her mine. All mine. Inside and out. I’d let her twist her fists into my hair and pant my name as she came, her voice thick with lust.
Then, a nasally, high-pitched voice draws me from my heady daze. “Well, well, well. Finn Gallagher.”
My stomach sinks, and I close my eyes for a moment. Visions of Esme dissolve as her thigh pulls away from mine a fraction of an inch. My finger drops, and the connection is broken.
When I open my eyes, I see Vanessa, in all her gigantic double-whatever cups of glory. She’s wearing a tight, white, low-cut crop top that shows off her two best features. Her long, caramel-colored hair is curled in soft waves, all the way down to her thin, exposed waist.
The scrap of fabric covering her bottom half is supposed to pass as a skirt, I guess.
Can't Have You: A Stand-Alone Brother's Best Friend Romance Page 5