Unknown

by Kelly, Hazel

  “I need a few more minutes,” Maeve said apologetically.

  I looked up at Morticia. “Would you bring us the spinach dip and the crab cakes to share in the meantime?” I asked, my eyes pinging off Maeve’s glass. “And another round of drinks.”

  “Good call on the starters,” Maeve said after the waitress excused herself with a bow. “I was feeling a bit paralyzed by indecision.”

  “Hope you’re happy with those choices.”

  Enthusiasm lifted her cheeks. “They’re perfect.”

  I was relieved to be in such good company. The last few women I took out sat back and gave off the vibe that it was my job to impress them. But Maeve seemed determined to have a good time whether I joined her or not, and I liked that. She didn’t need to be here. It was a choice. And that made me feel lucky, which was a feeling I hadn’t enjoyed in a long time.

  “So,” she said. “This guy you have in mind…”

  I leaned back in my chair as the saxophonist leaned into his solo.

  “The one who can help me.” She cast her eyes down so her long lashes fanned across her pink cheeks. “It’s you, isn’t it?” she asked, lifting her gaze.

  “Don’t panic,” I said, feeling a sudden urge to pull away from the warm swell in my chest. “I’m not suggesting I’m the suitable donor you’re looking for.”

  She blinked at me.

  “I just meant I could help you choose.”

  Her brown eyes narrowed.

  “Seems the least I can do considering the fact that you helped me with my new year’s resolution.”

  “I did, didn’t I?” she said. “Though I’m not sure how you mean to help me?”

  “Well, you have to narrow down profiles, right? Don’t you think it would be wise to get a guy’s opinion?”

  She lent me an ear.

  “I mean…” Fuck, what did I mean? Think. “You know how realtors use shady jargon to sell houses?”

  “Go on,” she said, lifting her drink.

  “You know how they say ‘quaint’ and ‘charming’ when they really mean ‘old’ and ‘small?’”

  Her expression drew a discouraging blank.

  C’mon, Finn. Don’t blow this. “Or how they say ‘private’ when they mean ‘middle of nowhere’ and ‘good access to transport’ when they mean ‘noisy.’” I couldn’t tell by her face if I was even speaking English anymore. “Never mind. Forget I mentioned it.”

  “Actually,” she said. “I think you may have a point.”

  Really?

  “I’m a little disturbed I didn’t think of that sooner.”

  Phew.

  “Though I’m not sure why a man would lie on a donor profile,” she said, her face furrowed as if she was genuinely mulling over the issue.

  “I doubt anyone would be deliberately deceptive, but most people are in the habit of embellishing their résumés.”

  Her face paled.

  “What?”

  She put an elbow on the table and leaned her cheek into her hand. “I feel so foolish. I’ve been taking them at face value.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine, but there are real men behind those profiles. And they’ve obviously got healthy egos if they’re convinced the world would be better off with more of their spawn.”

  She collapsed back in her cushioned chair.

  Shit. She seemed kind of upset. “I could be wrong. I wasn’t trying to take the wind out of your sails. I’m sure the process is nothing like house hunting.”

  “Would you really do that for me?” she asked. “Help me choose?”

  What have I done? “Sure,” I said, my stomach sinking. “Like I said. it’s the least I could do.”

  “That’s really…kind of you.”

  What can I say? I’m a perfectly agreeable idiot.

  “I’m sure you have better things to do than help me find a baby daddy.”

  “Of course, I have things to do. Whether or not they’re better is hard to say.” I clenched my jaw, regretting the mess I’d gotten myself into. If Brian were here, he’d definitely be kicking me under the table. “But I’m only helping you on one condition.”

  Her chin crept forward.

  “I get to help you let your hair down, too.”

  She squinted at me. “And how do you propose to do that?”

  “I have a mini-course,” I lied. “It’s strategically designed to help you relax and chill out.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that no one’s ever been through this mini-course before?”

  “Because I just made it up. Just now. Literally.”

  Her lips twitched towards a smile. “How does it work?”

  “I’d like to tell you but it’s one of those drip-fed courses, so you don’t get overwhelmed.”

  She folded her arms. “I’m going to need more information than that if I’m going to sign up.”

  “Actually, you’re already signed up. As soon as you agreed to come back to mine and watch Spinal Tap, wheels were set in motion that I’m powerless to stop.”

  “Wow.”

  “But don’t worry. I can give you a tiny spoiler.”

  Her chin inched forward.

  “Basically, all you have to do is meet me once a week for an activity of my choosing, in which you’ll get an opportunity to practice letting your hair down. Figurately.”

  “That sounds a lot like dating.”

  “Oh no.” I shook my head emphatically. “I’ve done a bad job describing it then. I have absolutely zero interest in dating, especially when it concerns beautiful, intelligent women like yourself.”

  “My mistake,” she said, biting back a smile.

  The woman with the painted brows set our starters and drinks between us then, and we thanked her in unison without breaking eye contact.

  “So, just to be clear, you would never date a woman like me?”

  “Absolutely not,” I said, hoping she could read between the lines in my lying eyes. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to teach you.”

  “Teach me what exactly?”

  “How to relax and give fewer fucks.”

  Her pursed lips pulled to one side. “You do seem to have a knack for that.”

  “I’m an expert,” I said. “When I’m through with you, you’ll be…”

  “Pregnant and relaxed about it?”

  I laughed. “Sure. If that’s what you want to get out of our time together.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Deal.”

  I smiled, feeling both out of my depth and more excited for the future than I’d been in ages. But the pressure was on. Because, deep down, I didn’t want to be one more man who let this woman down. I wanted to be better than that. More than that.

  And more than anything, more to her.

  T W E N T Y T H R E E

  - Maeve -

  From Finn’s superb company during dinner to his insistence that I finish his Baileys cheesecake, it was the best date I’d been on in a long time.

  There was something about his disarming company that made me forget what a vibrating bundle of stress I usually was. Maybe it was the way he kept stealing glances at my lips. Maybe it was the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he thought I said something funny. Or maybe it was the fact that he seemed more interested in listening to me than coming up with his next clever quip. Whatever it was, by the time dinner ended, I had no qualms about going back to his place. Butterflies, yes. But qualms? No.

  “I should warn you,” he said, as he stuck his key in the door. “Otis has a habit of making intruders feel unwelcome. But I assure you he’s highly trained, and I promise I won’t let him harm you.”

  “What?” I asked, my relaxed buzz fading as my mind reeled with questions like how come you didn’t mention this sooner and who the hell names a scary dog Otis? But it was too late to object.

  Finn pushed the door open, flicked the lights on, and no sooner had I hid behind him than a
scruffy lapdog came bounding around the couch in the open plan room. His tail was wagging at high speed and the way his tongue hung from his smiling mouth suggested he could’ve equally been named Butterscotch or Friendly-the-Furball.

  “Oh my God, he’s so cute,” I said, dropping to my knees to greet him, his whole body wiggling back and forth like he’d just had his batteries changed.

  “Please don’t say stuff like that in front of him,” Finn said, throwing his coat on the hook beside the door. “It goes straight to his head, and you do not want to be around him when he’s acting like a diva.”

  “Yes I do!” I said, scratching the adorable mutt’s furry cheeks. “I want to be around him all the time!”

  “Spoken like someone who’s never had to pry their underwear from his iron jaws,” he said, turning towards the open kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Sure.” I glanced up, my eyes fixating on his butt as he crossed the light-colored hardwood floors. “What would go best with the film?”

  “Whatever you have a taste for,” he said, opening the fridge.

  I gave Otis one more enthusiastic rub atop his head before hooking my coat beside Finn’s and debating whether I should keep my heels on. It seemed too formal after Otis’s warm greeting, though, so I set them neatly beside the door. “What are you going to have?” I asked, wandering over to the square island.

  The place wasn’t at all what I expected. It was smartly furnished and clean, minimalist but masculine at the same time. And not only was the art on his walls custom framed, it wasn’t all concert posters. In fact, the only music-themed images included the iconic photo of Joe Strummer smashing his guitar and a small print of the Picasso with the abstract instruments in it.

  “I’m going to have a beer,” he said, popping one open for himself. “But if you want to stick with gin, I can make you whatever you like.”

  “Beer’s fine,” I said, resting my hands on the counter.

  He slid the open one across to me and turned to grab another from the fridge.

  “I like your place,” I said, looking around some more. He had a guitar stand beside the couch and a keyboard by the window in the breakfast nook. It seemed an odd spot for it, but I guess he was a skilled enough musician that he could play and enjoy his nice view at the same time.

  “Thanks.” He grabbed the bottle caps off the counter and tossed them in the pullout garbage.

  I looked down to find Otis sitting politely beside me like I had a pocket full of bacon. How was this guy single? Between his musicianship and Otis, he must’ve been swamped by female attention every time he left the house.

  “Shall we?” Finn gestured behind me towards the floating leather couch, which was a tawny shade that matched his short facial scruff.

  I nodded and went to take a seat, realizing before I even got comfortable that he wasn’t joking about the size of his flatscreen. As soon as I got situated, Otis jumped up and sat beside me, his pink tongue hanging out like it was him I’d come to see.

  “I think he likes you,” Finn said, dimming the lights.

  I rubbed the top of his head between his floppy ears. “I like him, too.” When I looked up, Finn was staring at us with a perplexed expression on his face. “So do I need any background info to enjoy the movie?”

  “Don’t think so,” he said, relaxing back on the other side of Otis as he navigated the onscreen menu with the remote. “Just know the whole thing is basically a long, improvised joke.”

  “I’ll try to keep an open mind.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “You can’t ruin it for me.”

  I laughed. “Good to know.”

  “But if you absolutely hate it…”

  My brows lifted.

  “There’s no plan B.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” I said. “As long as you don’t quote the entire film from start to finish, saying all the lines right before the actors do.”

  “Fine.” He let his head fall my way. “As long as you know I could if I wanted.”

  Rock and roll spilled from the surround sound as the movie’s intro kicked off, and I felt anxious all of a sudden at the idea of sitting still through the whole thing.

  Being alone with Finn made my fingers and toes tingle with electricity, so I tried to distract myself from the sensation by recalling the last time I watched a movie with a man…

  It was with Kurt, obviously. The King’s Speech. And while I understood that it wasn’t called Maeve’s Speech, I remember being annoyed by the way he shushed me every time I made a comment.

  I don’t know if he got off on shushing me at home since he didn’t have the luxury of talking down to me at work or if he simply preferred Colin Firth’s stuttering company to my own. All I knew was that I’d been foolish to waste my time with him.

  But hindsight was no use to me now. What I needed now was foresight. Because no matter what happened in the next ninety minutes, this wasn’t really a date. Finn thought I was a project, nothing more. He’d made that quite clear.

  So imagine my surprise when he pulled a ratty, blind mouse from between the pillows thirty minutes into the film, wafted it under Otis’s nose until his furry brows lifted, and threw it across the room, opening up the space between us. Then he scooted closer and draped his arm over the back of the couch, sending me spiraling into a state of giddy distraction.

  I hid it well, though, pretending not to notice when he stole glances my way. Then again, I wasn’t sure whether he was checking me out or simply making sure I got the jokes. But when his fingertips slid up the base of my scalp, I got my first glimpse of what his strong hands were actually capable of.

  “Uhh,” I said, embarrassed at the breathy way the sound slipped out.

  He smiled and continued the slow massage, causing chunks of my hair to escape from the clip holding it up.

  And I knew what was happening as I relaxed against his fingertips, my eyelids growing heavy. But I couldn’t see any harm in letting him turn me on. After all, it was what I wanted, right? Or I never would’ve agreed to be alone with him like this. “Please tell me that’s your best move,” I said, fighting the urge to moan.

  A low laugh rattled up his throat.

  And the more I leaned into his strong hand, the less I believed I’d stop him if it wandered.

  But he was so casual with his attention, like massaging my scalp was the most natural thing in the world. It made me want to be natural, too. Made me want to surprise him right back.

  So without a word, I reached up and pulled my clip out, letting my long hair fall over his hand and around my shoulders. Then I turned towards him, my heart skipping when I saw the ravenous look in his eyes. “Operation Hair Down is officially a go,” I whispered.

  And without missing a beat, he answered me with a kiss.

  T W E N T Y F O U R

  - Finn -

  Her lips were soft and sweet, and they followed my lead, parting tentatively as I held the back of her head, my fingers buried in her silky hair.

  When my tongue tasted hers, she smiled, and I lowered her back until she was lying on the couch, her hair splayed across the leather cushion like a thousand chocolate rivers.

  Her breath shallowed as I crawled over her, and adrenaline surged through me, provoking a nervousness I hadn’t expected. Granted, she was a beautiful woman, but it wasn’t like I’d never been with one before. Still, the stakes felt higher with her for some reason as I let the weight of my hips sink against hers.

  “Finn,” she whispered between kisses, her chest rising and falling under mine as her hands fisted my sweater.

  I could’ve kissed her forever. There was something about the way her lips fit mine that was…intoxicating.

  Her hips tilted up in invitation, and a tightness gripped my chest.

  I lifted my head, taking in her contented expression. It was almost as if unraveling her hair had relaxed her whole body, and I might’ve been mesmeri
zed if I weren’t so hard for her.

  Her eyes searched mine, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she beamed silently, the pink of her cheeks deepening. I kissed her again, my need swelling against her mound as I realized I hadn’t thought this through.

  My condoms were in the bedroom, and she was already wrapping a leg around my side, sliding it up as if to invite me deeper. I found myself wishing I was wearing fewer clothes and that she was already naked.

  I slid a hand up her body and squeezed one of her breasts through her dress until my mouth watered. Fuck, she was luscious. I wanted to squeeze her everywhere, wanted to juice her like a lemon.

  I kissed my way across her cheekbone and down her neck, peppering her flushed chest with kisses as my hands hiked her dress up around her hips.

  “Finn,” she breathed, forgetting what she was going to say when I pressed my fingertips against the outside of her panties. They were already damp and hot, and a growl rattled up my throat as I dragged the thin lace across her wet seam over and over until she whimpered for me. When I couldn’t torture myself anymore, I stole her breath into my mouth and sank my fingers inside her, my body growing feverishly hot as hers tightened around me.

  She squeezed my shoulders as she writhed against my hand, her hips moving in a way I didn’t know they could. A way I desperately wanted to see more of.

  I pulled away reluctantly and sat back, removing my sweater and undershirt at once. When my eyes found hers again, they were drinking me in, dripping down from my pecs to the place where my belted jeans pulled across my hips.

  She sat up and combed her fingertips down my chest, her eyes dark with lust as she looked up at me. “You do have perfect chest hair,” she said, her touch torturously light against my flexing stomach muscles.

  “Lay down, Maeve,” I said, my cock straining against my zipper.

  She leaned back on her elbows, and I pushed her knees apart, my eyes on hers as I lowered myself between them.

  She inhaled sharply when my tongue traced her glistening bud, and her whole body bowed when I licked her heat. The moans that spilled from her were like music, as if she were a siren tempting me towards the rocks. And the more I gorged myself on her sweetness, the more determined I became to lick away every last drop of her restraint until she had no choice but to surrender to me.