The OUT OF LINE Series

by Jen McLaughlin

  Silence. “All right, man. I will.”

  I nodded, my throat aching in a weird way. “Thanks.”

  “Go woo your girl now. All’s well here.”

  I nodded. “Later.”

  “Later.”

  I hung up and stared down at my phone. I hadn’t really thought about the whole danger involved when I’d agreed to this plan, but hell, life was dangerous. Just because I was going into a hostile environment didn’t mean I was going to die.

  A bus could hit me tomorrow outside my apartment, for fuck’s sake.

  Why start worrying about what might happen over there when anything could happen here? It was pointless. Life was life.

  You lived, and if you were lucky? You loved and got loved in return. And then, no matter how safe you lived your life, when it was all over, you died.

  Staying in California wouldn’t change that.

  I smoothed my short red dress over my thighs and blotted my lips together. Marie had spent more than an hour on my hair, and even more time debating the best makeup, shoes, and dress to wear. I knew I looked good, even if I felt like a wreck. I wouldn’t let my fear over the future ruin what tonight could be. What it would be.

  It was our last night together, and I was going to make the most of it.

  I slid the key into the lock, took a deep breath, and walked inside. The lights were dim, and candles were on the table. The whole apartment smelled like Christmas dinner, and soft carols played in the background. A bare tree stood in place at the window, and Finn was nowhere to be seen.

  A suit was laid out across the bed, next to his phone. I smiled and walked up to it, running my hands over the soft fabric. I knew how much he hated dressing up, so knowing he was doing it showed me how special he was trying to make tonight. He didn’t have to dress up to make me happy, but he didn’t get that yet.

  That’s all right. I’d have all the time in the world to show him that…once he came back. And he would come back. There was no alternative in my mind.

  The bathroom door opened, and he came out with nothing but a towel on. He saw me standing there and froze mid-step, his gaze sliding up and down my body. “Holy shit, babe. You look gorgeous.”

  “Thank you.” I walked up to him and ran my hands over his damp chest. “So do you. Screw the suit, just lose the towel and we’ll be good to go.”

  He grinned and leaned down, kissing me gently before he stepped out of my arms. “Not happening. We’re having the date I should have given you the other night.”

  I pouted. “But—”

  “No buts.” He dropped the towel, and my jaw dropped as I watched the back view. Hot damn, the boy was fine. I mean, I already knew that, obviously. But still. The way his butt curved from his lower back to his hard upper thighs? Wow. “We’re doing this my way. It’s Christmas Eve.”

  I blinked at him. “No, it’s not. It’s not even Thanksgiving yet.”

  He stepped into his boxers and shot me a disappointed look. “Look at the calendar on the wall.”

  “Okay…” I walked over to the Santa calendar and looked. He’d left the month open to December, and he had crossed off all the days up until Christmas Eve. My heart twisted and tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them away before turning back to him with a smile. “You’re right. Silly me.”

  He grinned and stepped in to his pants. “It’s okay. I’ll forgive you this one time. But as soon as I’m all dressed, the festivities begin. We have a tree to decorate, presents to open…” He walked over to me and wrapped me in his arms, smiling down at me the whole time. “And, of course, some good old-fashioned holiday sex to partake in, too.”

  I rested my hands over his heart, which sped up as soon as I touched him. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

  “Let me get dressed.” He leaned down and kissed me. “Then we’ll check on dinner.” He kissed my nose this time. “And after that we’ll get started.”

  “Okay,” I said, my voice cracking. This was all so sweet and perfect and so Finn. And I was going to miss him so freaking much. I swallowed hard as he turned away, sinking down onto the couch. He’d put out a bunch of tiny Santa figurines on the coffee table, and cinnamon potpourri, too. “You even got Christmas potpourri.”

  He looked over his shoulder at me. “Huh?”

  “This stuff,” I said, pointing at the bowl.

  “Oh, is that what it’s called?” He shrugged into his shirt. “It reminded me of what my home used to smell like when my mom was alive.” He looked off toward the tree, his brow furrowed. “At Christmastime, she used to put out Santa figures, angels, and bowls of that smelly stuff all over the house. Even in my bedroom.”

  “She sounds like she was wonderful,” I said, standing up and crossing the room to place my hand on his arm. “I bet I would have loved her very much.”

  “And, man, she would have loved you.” He met my eyes, the far-off look he’d had earlier disappearing. But the sadness lingered, despite the smile he gave me. “When I was planning on how to make it feel like Christmas for you, the only thing I could think of was what she would have done. I copied it.”

  “I love it.” I reached up on tiptoe. “It’s perfect.”

  He curled his hands around my waist. “No, you’re perfect.”

  He was wrong. He was the one who said and did all the right things. I was fumbling along, trying to act as if I wasn’t a complete mess. I was probably failing miserably.

  “What did she do for a living?”

  “She was a teacher. Third grade.” He buttoned his shirt, his hands steady. “She said that was the best age to teach because they were old enough to take care of themselves, but they hadn’t reached the cocky, know-it-all stage yet.”

  I laughed. “That sounds about right.”

  “Do you want kids someday?” he asked, his voice deep as he buttoned his shirt. “Little Carries running around the house causing trouble?”

  I snorted. “I think it’s the little Finns that will be causing trouble. Not the Carries. And yeah, I’d like two or three kids in, like, ten years maybe. You?”

  His fingers froze on the second to last button. It wasn’t until he looked at me, all heated eyes and kiss me now lips, that I realized why. I’d mentioned having kids with him instead of the fictional kids with my fictional husband. But when I pictured that life, I saw him at my side. I knew it. He knew it. Why pussyfoot around?

  “I want two or three, too,” he said, his voice raw and his eyes on mine. “And ten years is perfect.”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding and smiled at him. “It’s a plan.”

  “It’s taking all my control not to pick you up right now, throw you onto that bed, and practice making babies with you without actually making any.” He finished up the last button. “But I have a plan on how tonight is going to go, you see. And I’m trying my best to follow it. So if you could stop looking so damn irresistible and stop saying all these things that make me want to kiss you, I’d appreciate it.”

  He curled his hand behind my neck and hauled me against his chest, and the breath whooshed out of my lungs right before he melded his mouth to mine, stealing all conscious thought. I closed my fists over his white dress shirt, wrinkling the material, but I didn’t think he’d mind. Right now all that mattered was this. Us.

  His mouth worked over mine and he pressed his hands to my lower back, his tongue gliding over mine perfectly. I moaned into his mouth and pushed him back against the wall. He went without a fight, but when I tried to start unbuttoning his shirt, he broke off the kiss and grabbed my hands. “Uh-uh. That’s not supposed to happen yet.”

  I let out a small protest. At least, I think that’s what came out. Maybe I just cursed. I didn’t know, all I knew was I needed to feel his skin against mine. “We can go out of order, can’t we?”

  “Nope.”

  “Finn.” I slid my hands under his shirt, skimming over his hard abs, following along the top of his trousers, then dipped lower, bare
ly brushing against his erection. “Are you so sure about that?”

  His head dropped back against the wall and he swallowed so hard I could see his Adam’s apple give way. “Nope…”

  I stuck my leg in between his, liking the extra height these heels gave me. It let me brush my knee against the undersides of his balls, and when I did that, he groaned and flexed his fingers on my hips. He curled them around my sides and cupped my butt, yanking me even closer.

  Then he kissed me again, and I was lost.

  He backed me toward the bed, his lips never breaking free of mine. As he kissed me, his mouth moving over mine with a hunger he seemed to have lost control of, his hands roamed under my dress, skimming the top of the thigh-highs Marie had insisted I wear tonight so “nothing would get in the way.”

  She’d been right. That was an excellent move.

  We fell back on the bed and I closed my legs around his waist, whimpering when he pressed against my core, rolling his hips ever so slowly. I tried not to focus on the fact that this would be the last time I’d get to have him like this for more than a month, but it was hard to do that when it’s all I could think about.

  This whole scene was romantic and perfect.

  But it was still a bittersweet goodbye, no matter how sweet it might be.

  He slid his fingers in between my legs, tracing the line of the panties I wore before slipping underneath them. He ran his finger over me, breaking off the kiss. “That day you came over without wearing any of these? That was fucking hot. From now on, I’ll spend half my life trying to figure out if you’re wearing anything underneath your clothes, and the other half finding out.”

  I scraped my nails down his back. “I’ll keep changing it up then, so you’ll never know.”

  “Jesus, Ginger.” He nibbled on the side of my neck, then swirled his tongue over my pulse. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  I shook my head. “Never that.”

  First, I undid the top button of his shirt with trembling hands, then the next and the next. The whole time I undid his shirt, he kissed me. My neck. My shoulder. My jaw. Anywhere and everywhere that he could reach without moving, he did. I had my legs around his waist, holding him in place, so he only had so much to work with…but man, did he make it work.

  “Ginger,” he murmured in my ear, rolling his tongue over my earlobe. “This strapless dress you’re wearing is perfect, and you look un-fucking-believably gorgeous in it, but it’s gotta fucking go.”

  He tore free of my death grip and stood, urging me onto my stomach before I could so much as say get back here. He bit down on my shoulder and I groaned, gripping the comforter. His fingers found my zipper and he slid it down, slow and agonizing. He kept dropping kisses over my skin as he bared it, and it was driving me insane with want.

  By the time he reached the bottom, I was quivering. He nipped the skin right over my butt, his teeth sinking in just enough to sting. “Finn.”

  “Yeah, babe?” he asked, dropping to his knees behind me and shimmying the dress down to my feet. “You need something?”

  “You.” I pressed my thighs together. “I need you.”

  He skimmed his hands up the outside of my thighs, then kissed the same spot he’d bitten, only on the other side of my butt. He ran his fingers down the backs of my thighs…and back up again. “Soon, my love. But not yet.”

  I shivered and buried my face in the mattress. How dare he ask me if I was trying to kill him? He was the one who was going to freaking kill me. He glided his fingers down my legs again, but this time he came up the insides. And when he reached the top, oh God, he finally gave me what I wanted.

  He slipped his fingers between my legs, rubbing his thumb against my clit in slow circles. I whimpered and pressed back against him, wanting more. He flicked his tongue over the back of my thigh, quickening his strokes. I was so freaking close to what I wanted, but he stopped and stood up, leaving me high and dry.

  “Finn.”

  He undid his pants, let them hit the floor, and yanked his shirt over his head. “Don’t move a muscle. I’m not done with you yet. But first…” He opened the drawer by his bed and pulled out a condom. “We need one of these since we’re just practicing.”

  I grinned and wiggled my butt. “Hurry up or I’ll get started without you.”

  “Fuck yeah. Do it.”

  My cheeks heated up. That had so been an empty threat. I hadn’t actually been planning on doing it. I couldn’t take it back now.

  I rolled over and shot him a look that I hoped was more seductress than deer in headlights, and scooted back on the bed. When I was reclined against the pillows with nothing but my undergarments and a pair of heels on, I trailed my hand down my shoulder.

  I felt stupid and ridiculous until I looked up at him and saw the way he stood there, his fists clenched and his gaze locked on my hand as it moved. Then I felt powerful. So freaking powerful. I bit down on my lip and moved my hand lower, tracing the curve of my breasts while he watched.

  He ripped the condom open and pulled it out, his gaze latched on my hand as he did so. “Take off everything but the heels and the…” he said, his voice gruff. He gestured to my thigh-highs, “…the tights or whatever the fuck they’re called.”

  I sat up and undid my bra, letting it fall to the side. Then I reclined back and closed my hands over my breasts, letting out a small moan. He took a step toward me, his blue eyes dark and his lips parted. “Jesus.”

  “Nope. Stay there,” I said, not taking my hands off myself. This new strength I’d found was exhilarating, and if I was going to do this for him? I was going to do it right, thank you very much. His tattoo-covered muscles flexed when he stopped in his tracks. “No touching yet.”

  He curled his empty hand into a fist at his side. “You’re touching.”

  “Only me.” I rolled my hands over my nipples, licking my lips at the thrill that shot right to my core. Seeing him watching me do this was so freaking hot. “You’ll get your turn.”

  He stepped closer and gripped his erection. “If you get to touch, so do I.”

  I looked down at his hand moving over his shaft and my stomach hollowed out. His abs clenched as his hand worked over himself and I moaned, sliding my hand even lower over my stomach. When I closed my fingers over my mound, he jerked his cock harder. Funny how I still blushed when I thought about that word.

  I bit down on my lip and moved my fingers over myself, feeling the pressure building up even more so as I watched him touch himself.

  He took a step closer. “Take off the panties, or I’ll take them off for you. But if you make yourself come, with me watching, I’ll blow your fucking mind right after. So I suggest you lose them.”

  I took them off in record time and pressed my fingers against my clit. I was so freaking ready it wouldn’t take much to send me over the edge. I knew it. So I rubbed them in a circle, increasing the pressure when a jolt of pleasure hit me hard. “Oh God.”

  “Fuck,” he muttered, climbing onto the bed. He grabbed my ankle and nibbled on it, then kissed higher on my calf. “Keep going, Ginger. Show me how good you feel.”

  I whimpered and moved my fingers faster. Harder. “Finn…”

  “I’m here,” he said, his voice raw.

  He slid his hands up my body and under my butt. Having him so close to where I was touching myself must have sent me over the edge, because I tossed my head back and forth and my entire body clenched. I increased the pressure, the pleasure and painful need ravaging me until I exploded, squeezing my eyes shut tight at the sheer intensity of it all.

  I didn’t even have time to crash and burn before he was in between my legs, his mouth fastening to mine and his erection pressing against my throbbing clit. All it took was one bump from him, and I came again—miraculously and explosively.

  He deepened the kiss, his teeth digging into my lower lip, and then thrust inside me with one quick stroke. I closed my legs around him, digging my high heels into his bare ass, and clung to hi
m for dear life. He moved fast and hard and heavenly. I wrapped my arms around him and dug my nails in, lifting my hips to take more of him.

  The pressure was building up again, driving me higher and higher until I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to come back down. But then he swirled his tongue over mine and changed his angle, brushing against my clit, and I did crash down.

  But first, oh my God, I soared. I freaking flew.

  He thrust into me one last time, deep, before he tensed over me, breaking off the kiss long enough to utter, “Carrie.”

  He made my name sound like a miracle or some amazing thing only he could have, and I didn’t know what to say in reply. So I wrapped my arms around him and clung tight, squeezing my eyes shut. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” he whispered, his face buried against my neck. He kissed me gently, right under my ear. “I’m going to miss you so damn much.”

  I swallowed hard. “I’ll miss you, too.”

  It was almost funny. I’d been so high moments ago, but now I was back on the ground, and I didn’t want to let go of him.

  I didn’t want to let go because I knew once I did…

  He would leave me.

  I finished my lasagna pretty quickly and studied her from across the candlelit table. She was still eating, so she wasn’t watching me like I was watching her. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t looked up in a while. I knew why. She was sad I was leaving, and I wished I could take it back, almost. Wished I hadn’t agreed to leave. But if I hadn’t, then next year it would have been war.

  I’d only have been delaying the inevitable. At least this way it was on my terms.

  And once it was over, well, then I’d have Carrie. And I’d never leave her side again, if I had any say. I picked up my champagne and finished it with one swallow. I had to be up bright and early at five a.m. tomorrow, but I could indulge a little. No matter how I looked at it, or how many ways I tried to spin it into some bright shiny angle that would make me feel better, I was leaving the woman I loved behind. And I didn’t fucking like it.

  “You’re awfully quiet over there, Ginger.”