Racer shrugs. “All right. I like the look, by the way.” He points to the side of his own head. “It’s hot.”
Esme’s lips tug, and I hate that he made her smile.
Racer walks away with a wink, and we’re alone again. Esme watches him leave. I rage, a hot poker jammed straight into my chest.
Maybe I should fire him. We don’t need a second skydive instructor, do we? I could say money’s tight and do all the jumps myself.
But as a couple walks up to our booth and Esme signs them up to yet another dive, I know I could never do them all myself. We need Racer. And Benji. And Esme. We need to expand so I can increase our capacity and pay back my loan to my father.
This business is my dream, and I can’t let my jealous cock get in the way.
When the couple has paid their fee, Esme glances at me.
“You okay? You look like you’re about to tear someone’s head off.”
I try to wipe the scowl off my face and shrug. “I’m fine.”
She jerks her chin toward her brother, who’s walking toward the Fringe Fest’s exit with his newfound sister and stepfather.
Esme turns to me. “They’re leaving. Guess it’s just you and me, Finn.”
“Could be worse.”
“Could it?” she shoots back, arching an eyebrow.
I grin. “Do you ever stop being snarky?”
“Never. Your ego needs tempering.”
I hide my smile by turning my attention to a girl that walks up to our booth. Esme stands beside me and talks to another potential customer, and I pretend that I’m not affected by her presence.
After an hour or so, Jackson reappears with Willow and Nadia. He has his trademarked grin and an arched eyebrow as his eyes flick between me and Esme.
“I’m assuming you won’t be coming back with us, Esme?”
“Somehow got wrangled into working all afternoon,” she replies, not looking at me.
“Yeah,” Jackson says, glancing at Willow. “Somehow.”
Willow doesn’t answer, but I see a spark in her eye when she looks at me. “See you around, Finn. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” Willow shoots back, waving goodbye to us. Esme waves back, her presence like a bonfire beside me.
By the time we’re ready to pack up the booth at the end of the day, I feel like I’ve been doing hill sprints for hours. I’m tired and sweaty—but exhilarated. Being close to Esme and not being able to touch her is the sweetest torture I’ve ever experienced. After a few hours with her, I know I made a mistake by keeping my distance from her. I’ve wasted four whole weeks of time with her. I could have had her a hundred times by now.
It’s a mistake I won’t make again. I’m not going to let some dirtbag like Racer step in. He wouldn’t care about Sweeney, or about his job. He’d take what he wanted from Esme and treat her like dirt.
There’s no way in hell I’m letting that happen.
Esme helps me pack up the banners and flyers into the company van, and then hops into the passenger’s seat. When I get behind the wheel, I steal a glance at her legs in those denim shorts. Heat cranks up in my body, starting in the pit of my stomach. I shift in my seat, readjusting my pants, and then turn the key in the ignition.
We drive in silence, but the air is thick. The tension between us ratchets up with every second that passes. When we finally get to the shop and start unloading the van, I can hardly contain myself.
“What are you doing for dinner?” I ask when Esme rolls up the last banner and puts it in the storeroom.
Esme shrugs. “I’m assuming Kit is busy, so probably leftovers. Or pizza.”
“Let me make you dinner.” Please say yes. “You know, as a thank you for your help today.”
“The thank you for my help better be hours added onto my paycheck,” she shoots back, then pauses. “But yeah, okay. I’ll take a free dinner, too.”
If I could play it cool, I would—but I can’t quite stop the smile from spreading across my lips. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I lead her upstairs and unlock the door to my apartment. When Esme closes the door behind her and lifts her eyes up to meet mine, I realize just how alone we are up here.
No Sweeney. No Racer. No smirking Jackson and inquisitive Willow. No worries about working together, or what Esme’s brother would say.
Just her and me.
Standing in front of her, it takes all my self-control to stop myself from reaching to stroke her face. My fingers itch to trail over her skin, to touch her neck, to feel her body.
Esme can feel it. She takes a step toward me, lifting her eyes up to meet mine. Without the black beanie covering half her forehead, her eyes look sharper than they did before. I inhale as my heart thumps, and I know I’m going to kiss her.
I could stand here and pretend I don’t want to. I could tell myself the honorable thing to do would be to walk away. I could say it’s inappropriate.
The truth is, I don’t care.
This girl has reached into my soul and shaken me awake. She’s made me forget all the things that make me crave adrenaline—instead, I only crave her. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since I met her, and all my skydives have been disappointing.
I know the reason.
It’s because nothing compares to the feeling of her body next to mine. Nothing comes close to the desire that rips through me every time her gaze meets mine. No skydive can come close to the thrill of being near her.
“Esme…” I breathe. Our bodies are close. An inch or two separate us. The apartment is silent. The door is locked. We’re alone.
“Don’t,” she says, her eyes hardening. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t say it. Just shut up and kiss me.”
15
Esme
Finn’s eyes widen when the words slip out of my mouth. If I’m being honest, they surprise me, too. I’m so used to pretending to be tough that actually going through with being confident is a bit of a shock.
Maybe it’s the hair. I feel naked already, so who cares if I cross another line? I saw the look on his face when he saw me at the festival. His eyes widened. His jaw went slack.
It wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t pity.
It was desire.
Me. Bald, tiny, thin as a rail. He wants me. And right now, as my heart does its best to burst through my ribcage, I want him, too.
In the back of my mind, I’m worried about Kit. About his new sister. About why she showed up out of the blue.
But that’s the back of my mind. Up front? All Finn. He’s all I see. All I can think about. All I can focus on.
Finn takes a step toward me and lifts a tentative hand. He brushes the tips of his fingers over my cheek, sweeping his thumb over my skin. His hand is rough. Hardened. Callused. Strong. His fingers reach back to the nape of my neck as I fall into him, catching myself on his chest.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Esme,” he rasps, his eyes low. They devour me, drinking in every feature and landing on my lips.
When he stares at me like that, with eyes full of fire, I feel gorgeous. I feel more beautiful than I ever have before. My head is bare. My soul is open.
I’m free.
My heart thumps. Curling my fingers into his shirt, I press myself against him. His arm wraps around me and holds me close.
Still, he doesn’t kiss me.
“Did you hear what I said?” he growls. “You’re beautiful, Esme. Everything about you is perfect.”
“Did you hear what I said?” I ask, my voice raspy. “I said be quiet and kiss me.”
A wicked grin tugs Finn’s lips. As a growl rumbles through his chest, desire sparks in the pit of my stomach. Finn is unravelling me. He pulls at a loose thread in my defenses, and all I can do is watch as I come apart in his hands.
Every look. Every touch. Every whisper. It all chips away at everything I thought kept me safe.
But what am I sta
ying safe from? What am I hiding away from, alone, angry, and afraid? Isn’t it better to feel the thumping of his heart under my palm? To feel his breath warm my skin? To smell his scent as my head reels?
Finn’s fingers sink into my hip. His other hand is still on the nape of my neck, tilting my face up toward him. His big, muscular body envelops mine as he pulls me close. The air between us thickens, but still, his lips are tantalizingly far away.
I want them. On my own lips. On my neck. On my breasts. Between my legs. I want his lips to explore every inch of my body. I want him to claim me. Devour me. Break me into a million pieces and put me back together again, better than I was before.
My hands slide up to his shoulders, twisting into the ends of his hair. He groans, closing his eyes for just a moment.
My heart feels like it’s about to explode. Every second that ticks by makes my desire wind tighter, and tighter, and tighter. Every breath makes my need swell.
When Finn opens his eyes again, a thrill pierces my stomach. His gaze is dark. Dangerous.
He dips his head down, ever so gently brushing his lips against mine. Another growl rumbles through his chest, and I whimper in response. I don’t know if he’s teasing me on purpose, but I feel like I’m about to die. Need is crawling up the walls inside me, scratching and clawing and begging to be set free.
Finn’s lips tease mine, then he pulls away. He drops his head to my neck, laying a soft kiss beneath my ear. With his hand, he angles my head to the side and trails kisses all the way down to my shoulder.
“Finn,” I breathe, begging.
“No talking,” he grunts. His scruff tickles the base of my neck as his lips move back up toward my jaw. He’s moving too slowly. Too gently. Too softly.
I’ve been waiting a month for this. I’ve laid in bed at night, touching myself at the thought of his kiss. His touch. His cock. Four weeks I’ve been in Woodvale, and every single one of them, I’ve dreamed of being with Finn.
My fingers sink into his shoulders, and I try to kiss him back. I nuzzle my face into his neck, needing to find his lips. Finn continues the slow, torturous movement of his mouth up my neck, over my jaw. His teeth scrape over my earlobe as I let out another whimper.
My thighs spark. I squeeze them together, clinging onto his broad body as I try to remain on my feet. My desire weakens my knees, and I feel like I’m going to collapse. With one hand still on my neck, Finn sweeps his other arm to my lower back. He pulls my body into his, molding me against him so that every inch of me is touching every inch of him.
And when I say every inch, I mean every inch.
Hunger roars inside me when I feel his hardness. My breath is ragged.
Finn drops both hands to my waist and slides them down to my ass. He pulls me close, pressing himself against me as a moan slips through my lips.
We’re fully clothed. We haven’t even kissed.
But my body is on fire. Sparks ripple through me from head to toe. My vision shimmers. My throat is tight. I can’t think straight, and all I want is more.
More Finn. More skin. More lips. More of everything he has and everything he’ll give me.
As if he can sense the craving screaming inside me, Finn pulls away to stare into my eyes. My chest heaves as I meet his gaze, my fingers curled into his shirt.
Step by step, Finn walks me backward. His hands stay glued on my hips. His eyes on mine. My back hits the door, and that’s when Finn’s grip tightens on my body.
Without warning, he lifts me up and presses me against the solid face of the door. My legs wrap around his waist as my arms cling to his shoulders. His elbows rest on either side of my head, caging me in.
Then, after an eternity of waiting, and wanting, and wishing, Finn crushes his lips to mine. He pins me to the door, his body easily supporting mine as I clutch him with all my might. My fingers scrape over his scalp, tugging at his hair. My legs squeeze his waist as I grind my center toward his.
But it’s his lips that nearly send me over the edge. They taste like sin and sweetness. He kisses me confidently, lashing his tongue against mine before nipping at my bottom lip. With his chest pressed against mine and my back pressed up against the door, I give myself to him.
Finn kisses me hard. A moan slips through his lips, and it tastes almost as good as this kiss I’ve been craving. I can feel him throbbing against me. Needing me as much as I need him.
I thought the skydive was good? I was kidding myself.
Kissing Finn sets my body alight. It makes me crave things that I thought had died inside me long ago. It reminds me what it feels like to be alive. To want to live. To crave the sweetness and desire and thrill of a man’s body pressed up against my own.
This is better than jumping out of a plane. No question about it.
Finn groans against me, wrapping his arms around me as he pulls away from the door. Carrying me across the room, he sets me down on the sofa and lies down on top of me. His hand sweeps up to cup my face, his lips devouring mine.
With his other hand, Finn runs his fingers up underneath my shirt. Rivers of goosebumps follow as heat burns between my legs. Even the slightest touch of his skin against mine makes me want to melt.
I wrap my legs around him, wishing there weren’t so many layers of clothing between us.
I’ve thought of this moment a lot over the past six years. Not this, specifically, but something like it. I thought it was unattainable for me. Ever since I got sick, I haven’t been near a man. Not like this. Not with a man like Finn. I wondered if I’d be nervous. Clumsy. Awkward.
With Finn, everything comes naturally. Everything I do makes the inferno between us blaze hotter. When I scrape my teeth across his shoulder, he lets out a raspy growl that sends shivers racing through my veins. When I fumble to pull his shirt off over his head, he helps me by ripping it off and tossing it away.
My hands land on his chest, sweeping down to feel every ridge and valley of his muscular frame. My breath catches as I feel the heat of his skin beneath my fingers. When I trace the V that leads me toward his belt buckle, my heart jumps.
I haven’t had sex in years. I’ve only ever slept with one guy, when we were awkward teenagers who thought we were in love.
But here, with Finn, I’m ready to give him everything. I’m ready to bare myself for him—from my hair to everything else. I know that he sees me. The real me.
And he likes it.
I don’t need to hide behind my fear with him. To shield myself with anger. To put on a tough face. With Finn, I can be myself. I can be vulnerable and scared and weak, and he takes me as I am.
Finn watches me trace the lines of his body all the way back up to his pecs before catching my fingers and bringing them up to his lips. He turns my hand over, laying a soft kiss on my palm.
I stare at him as my feelings swell. This is broader than lust. Deeper than desire. My heart thumps as I watch him press my fingers to his lips once more.
I gulp, forcing myself to speak. “Finn,” I whisper.
“Yeah, beautiful?”
“I want you.” It’s barely a whisper. Hardly audible.
But he hears.
Green eyes gleam with desire. I watch his throat move as he swallows. “You sure?”
Instead of answering, I prop myself up and pull my shirt off over my head. Finn’s gaze sweeps down my body as another low growl rattles through him. He ducks his head, angling his mouth against mine.
Before he can kiss me, though, his phone rings. We pause.
Finn shakes his head. “Forget about it.” His lips nip mine, and he lets his chest drop. His skin feels like heaven. I arch my back, wanting to feel as much of him as I possibly can. My kiss becomes more insistent. My fingers scrape against his skin. My knees fall open before squeezing against his hips.
I grind myself against him, needing. Aching.
Then, my own phone rings. We pause.
It stops—and we kiss again.
Then, we both jump when a fist bangs o
n the door.
“Finn!” my brother calls through the closed door.
I freeze.
With a groan, Finn pulls himself off me. “One second!”
The bulge in his pants is unmistakable as he adjusts himself, staring at me with dark eyes. I fumble for my shirt and toss him his own top, redness sweeping over my face, my head, my neck.
“Open the door!” my brother says, trying the doorknob. As soon as we’re dressed, Finn wipes his lips on the back of his hand and heads for the door.
I sit on the couch, trying to regain control over the chaos rioting in my body.
16
Finn
Sweeney must have a sixth sense. On some level, he knew I was half-naked with his sister. Why else would he show up here?
I knew it would be a mistake to go near Esme. But how could I resist? As soon as I saw her with her head bare, I had to have her. I was compelled. There was no resisting the surge of desire that roared inside me.
I glance over my shoulder to make sure Esme is dressed before unlocking the door. Her face is red. I feel equally flushed. I pat my hair down once more and pull the door open.
Sweeney stares at me, frowning. His eyes flick over my shoulder, to where Esme’s sitting on the couch.
“What are you doing here?” he asks his sister.
“We just finished putting all the gear away,” she explains. “We were going to have dinner.”
“Here?”
I clear my throat. “Is that an issue?”
Sweeney seems on edge. He lets out a breath, shaking his head. “No. Of course not. Sorry.”
I open the door wider and Sweeney steps inside, heading toward his sister and slumping down on the couch. I go to the refrigerator and grab three beers, dishing them out before I sit down opposite the two of them. Guilt worms through me, chasing the heat from my veins.
I clear my throat. “So, who was that kid at the Fringe Fest?”
Kit lets out a breath, twisting the cap off his beer and taking a swig before answering. “My sister.” He glances at me and then at Esme, offering no other explanation.
Can't Have You: A Stand-Alone Brother's Best Friend Romance Page 10