Sunlight from the windows above them tipped his blond hair as he tilted his head, looking down at her again. The expression on his face made her breath catch, all the teasing humor having drained away, leaving nothing but naked hunger and raw desire. “Wider,” he ordered, his voice gone rough.
And she found herself obeying him, responding to the dominance in his tone. Wanting it. Because thinking was too hard. Making decisions was too hard. It was easier having someone tell her what to do.
His hand touched her inner thigh, darkness flaring in his eyes as his fingers moved, sliding over her, tracing, then stroking the slick, hot flesh of her sex. She gasped at his touch, shuddering as electricity arced through her, almost blinding in its intensity.
“Ah, Christ, Anna.” The hoarse sound of his voice made her shiver. “You’re so wet.”
Slowly, he slid a finger inside her and she trembled, panting. Then another joined the first. Somehow she’d grabbed on to his shoulder, digging her nails into the hard muscle beneath his skin.
Her hips lifted almost of their own volition as his hand began to move in a slow, maddening rhythm.
He lowered his forehead against hers and she could hear his breathing, ragged and fast. “You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this. About touching you. Feeling you so hot and wet for me.” Another harsh breath. “I want to make you come.” She couldn’t speak, shivering at the raw eroticism of his words. And then she couldn’t seem to think either as his thumb circled her clit again, sending white lightning everywhere. The hand between her thighs moved faster, harder. Another brush across that agonizingly sensitive bundle of nerves. Her nails digging into his flesh. Her hips moving against his hand. So good. God. So good.
“Please, Finn,” she said, gasping. Frantic.
“Yes. Green Eyes. Yes. Come for me.”
A simple twist of his hand and, as if her body had decided it would obey him in all things, she felt herself come apart, the climax rushing through her, over her, washing her away.
He’d never seen anything so beautiful in all his life. Anna, crying out her climax in his arms. Underneath his hand.
He used to feel guilty for fantasizing about her. For objectifying her. And for prolonging the agony of wanting something that would never, ever happen. So he’d stopped, tried to be good.
But this…the reality. Jesus Christ, she was so much better than his fantasies.
The liquid heat of her around his fingers, the musky scent of her arousal between them. Her little pants, her cries. Green eyes turning black as desire had overcome her, body arching as she’d come against his hand.
Finn sucked in a ragged breath, feeling the hot pulse of her sex around his fingers, the bite of her nails against his skin. Difficult to hold himself back, but he’d been doing it so long another couple of minutes wouldn’t make much difference.
Blocking out the pain in his cock, he closed his eyes, wanting to fix this memory forever in his head. Wanting to hold on to it for as long as possible.
When she shifted a little, he opened his eyes and finally withdrew his hand, looking down at the flushed, panting woman beneath him. The look on her face was almost stunned, green eyes wide. Brown hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks, perspiration slicking her skin.
Stunned, yes. But not scared. Not now.
He smiled at her. Then put his fingers in his mouth.
Her eyes went round. “Finn!” A shocked sound.
“What? You taste delicious.” And she did. Spicy and salty and so damn good.
He licked his fingers, watching her black lashes flutter as her gaze dropped to his mouth as if hypnotized. No, definitely not fear this time.
God, he wanted to lick her. Taste the spice and salt of her. But he didn’t know if he could bear waiting any longer. He had to be inside her. Had to.
He bent, brushing his mouth over hers. “You sure you don’t have any condoms in that backpack of yours?”
“Uh…you don’t have any?”
“Yeah, but they’re in the bathroom. Backpack’s closer.” He moved down her body, licking her throat, tasting her skin, salt and sweat and honey. Oh Jesus, he was never going to be able to get enough of her.
“Ummm….front pocket.”
He moved lower, circling her nipple with his tongue, then drawing the hard bud of it into his mouth. A little, helpless moan, her body arching into him. So responsive. No sign of her earlier tension, thank God. He wanted to make her scream, but not with fear. Never that.
Reluctantly, he released her nipple, a certain satisfaction coiling through him as she made a little protesting sound. Moving off the couch he bent to grab the backpack. Sure enough, the condoms she’d brought with her were in the front pocket. All two of them.
“Two?” he said as he turned back to the couch. “Not very optimistic, were we?”
Anna pushed herself up on her elbows, hair falling forward around her face. “Two’s plenty, isn’t it?”
Shit, she really thought that? Not while she lay there on the cracked leather of his couch, naked and flushed, every inch of her so perfect, so beautiful, it made his heart stop.
“No,” he said, and he meant it.
“Oh, that’s right. I’d forgotten you were Mr. Adrenaline Junkie.”
“Better believe it.” He straightened, getting rid of his boxers. Then he came over to the couch, ripping open the packet.
She kept darting little, wide-eyed glances at him, the blush deepening on her face. There was something vulnerable in her expression. Something that made his chest tighten again.
She was vulnerable. He had to remember that. For the past six months she’d been through hell.
“You okay?” he asked softly as he knelt between her thighs, running his hands from her knees to her hips in a gentle stroke.
“Yeah.” But she wouldn’t look at him.
He reached out, pushed back one lock of hair. “This isn’t just about the attack, is it?”
Slowly, she shook her head.
The heavy feeling in his chest got even heavier. “Is it us?”
Black lashes rose, green eyes meeting his. “Yes. It’s freaking me out just a little bit.”
He tightened his jaw against the savage urge to say there was nothing freakish about what was happening. Nothing to be freaked out about. It was good. So damned good. But he didn’t say that. “What is it that’s freaking you out?”
“You and me. It’s just…weird. I can’t get my head around it.”
“Do you need to?”
“I think I have to. One minute you’re Finn. My Finn. The next…” She stopped, looked down. “The next you’re like a stranger. It’s confusing.”
A stranger. Pain twisted inside his heart. Because he wasn’t confused. Not in the slightest. She wasn’t a stranger. She was Anna, in his arms, being where it felt like she’d always meant to be. Like the missing piece of a jigsaw finally slotting into place. The missing piece of their relationship. What was confusing about that?
“Are you saying you don’t want this?” He could barely say it aloud.
Her chin lifted, a stricken look on her face. “No. No, I didn’t mean that. I’m just afraid we won’t be able to come back from it.” Her throat moved. “Finn, I don’t want to lose what we have together. I don’t want to lose your friendship. I can’t lose it.”
The pain twisted harder. “You won’t lose it, Green Eyes. You can’t. I promise.”
But the stricken look didn’t leave her face. “I can’t stop thinking this is a mistake.”
Strange that such soft words could cause so much anguish. “It’s not a mistake,” he said hoarsely. “It doesn’t feel like one to me. It feels like you’re right where you should be.”
Anna blinked, and he wished suddenly he hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t given himself away. Because even now, even here, it was clear she didn’t feel it. Didn’t feel it like he did.
“Maybe.” Her chest lifted in a ragged breath. “But I don’t think we shoul
d do this again. Okay?”
No, he wanted to say. No. We need to do this again. And again. And again until you feel it. Until you feel what I’m feeling right now.
What the fuck, Shaw? It’s almost like you’re still in love with her or something.
Finn felt something cold take hold of him. No. He wasn’t in love with her. Maybe once, maybe a long time ago. Not now though. He wasn’t going through that pain again. Be that fucking loser surviving on nothing but longing.
So stop thinking about all this ‘jigsaw’ bullshit, okay?
“Okay,” he said. To her. To the snide voice inside his head.
Anna nodded and although he tried not to, he could see the relief on her face. Her hand lifted. “Give me the condom.”
The part of him that was proud wanted to toss the condom on the ground. Get up from the couch and dress. Leave her there. Leave her to her relief.
But that part of him couldn’t fight the desire that still gripped him by the throat. Gripped him tight and wouldn’t let go. And just for a small second, he hated that part. Hated himself for wanting her so much. Hated her for making him feel that way.
She took the condom in her small, neat hands, then leaned forward, a frown of concentration on her face. Anna, absorbed in a task. He’d seen that look so many times but never quite like this.
When she touched him, he thought he would come on the spot, the feel of her fingers on his cock enough to make his jaw crack with the strain of holding himself back. Then the gentle pressure as she rolled the latex down over him…
Holy fuck. If this was how she made him feel with her hands, how would he cope when she was wet and tight around him?
She looked up then, and his anger vanished at the look on her face, at the satisfied smile that curved her luscious mouth. A smile that said a job well done.
And just like that, he’d reached the end of his control.
He caught her beneath her arms, pushed her back against the soft leather of the couch, in between the back and the arm of it so she was half sitting, half lying.
She gave a little gasp, eyes going wide as he reached down and pulled her legs over his knees, hauling her hips high and close to where they needed to be. Then he moved one hand between her thighs, spreading the soft, wet folds of her sex.
A shiver went through her. “Finn.”
He’d wanted to go slow. But right now he wasn’t sure if he could. “The safe word, Anna. You know it, right?”
“Yes.”
“You want to say it now?”
She was trembling but she shook her head.
And he couldn’t wait. He gripped her thighs, then thrust deep and hard inside her.
Anna cried out as he pushed into her, a shockingly raw sound but she couldn’t stop it. The feel of him was almost too much. He was so big, stretching sensitive tissues that could barely cope with another overload of sensation. She bit down on her lip, struggling to handle it. To handle him. Her thighs were trembling. Everything was trembling.
She looked up at him. His head was tilted back, jaw tight, a ray of sunlight turning his hair bright gold, following the sharp contours of his chest and stomach, highlighting the deep, tawny color of his skin. He had his eyes closed, the muscles of his arms locked rigid on either side of her. Struggling to hold himself back.
He was beautiful. Too beautiful.
Her heart twisted strangely inside her chest. No, she should not feel this. Not about him. He was her friend.
A friend who moved, hands gripping her hips, lifting her a little so he could slide deeper into her.
Another groan tore from her throat, her body stretched unbearably. God. Too much to handle. She’d break. Fall apart. Something.
Finn leaned forward, one hand gripping the back of the couch, the other the arm. Holding on. And then he began to move inside her, slow and steady and deep.
Chills broke over her. Then came heat. A thousand different physical feelings and all of them overwhelming.
She gasped, her hands clutching at the leather of the seat beneath her. She couldn’t seem to think. Couldn’t seem to breathe. He was everywhere, all around her, inside her. And with every breath she took him deeper. Into her lungs, into her body.
The panic of the attack faded utterly. The fear gone. Subsumed by the intensity of the present. The extreme physical pleasure. Nothing else in the entire world but Finn.
Her friend. And now her lover.
Anna began to pant, the slow rhythm he’d set building into something else. Faster. Even more intense.
He hooked his hand behind her right knee, peeled her leg from around one lean hip, then pushed it out and wide, letting him slide even deeper into her.
Another little scream tore from her as she arched beneath him.
Then, as if even this weren’t enough, he grabbed her hand, drew it between them, down to where they were joined. He leaned over her, his dark eyes inches from hers. “Feel me, Anna.” His voice was guttural. Finn the dark, dominant stranger. “Feel me inside you.”
And she did. The way she’d stretched to accommodate him. So easily. Naturally. The liquid heat. The exquisite push-pull of him. The spice and musk of his scent…
“Yes…” Someone else spoke. Someone else said the words in a voice so husky it didn’t sound like hers. “Oh my God. Finn…don’t stop…please…”
“Look at me, beautiful. Look at me. Stay with me.”
She hadn’t even realized she’d closed her eyes. And when she opened them, all she saw was him. The darkness of his eyes. And the hunger for her. As if she was his only reason to breathe.
Pressure built. So intense. Like her skin was too tight. Pleasure on the edge of pain.
There was nothing to hold on to. Nothing to hold her down. Nothing except him. He was the one constant in her life. Always had been. So she lifted her hands to his shoulders, holding on to him, sliding her hands down his back, feeling the flex and release of his muscles as he moved.
“Anna,” he whispered, leaning right down close. “Oh God, Anna…”
Tension stretching. Winding tighter and tighter. She cried out with the agony, with the frustration of it.
Then he put his hand on her breast while the other stroked her clit. Once. Twice.
And the whole world exploded behind her eyes.
Anna screamed as the pleasure tore her apart, convulsing in his hands, shattering completely. Only aware of his arms around her, the sound of his own cry of release in her ears, and the inexplicable relief that soon this would be over, that they could go back to being friends.
Because she’d never survive anything more.
Finn fell forward, unable to stop himself from collapsing on top of her. She made a soft, protesting sound and he shifted, only just capable of moving so he didn’t completely crush her.
He closed his eyes, trying to regain his grip on reality. Because she’d just made him lose it. She’d been so wet. Tight. Hot. And the look in her eyes as she’d come apart in his arms, staring up at him in wonder. As if she couldn’t believe what had happened between them.
He couldn’t really believe it himself.
Never, in all his wildest fantasies, had he ever dreamed it would be so intense. That the pleasure of being inside her, of having her naked beneath him would be quite so mind-blowing. Or so perfect.
Because it had been perfect. As if, for the first time in all his fucked-up life, he’d got something right.
Anna moved again and he blinked, the scent of her hair, her skin, the musky scent of arousal and sex mixing together into something so erotic he could feel himself getting hard again.
Bracing a hand beside her head, he lifted himself up, looking down at her.
Her face flushed, hair sticking to her cheeks and forehead, eyes huge, her mouth swollen and red from his kisses. God, she was beautiful. So heartbreakingly beautiful.
“Are you okay?” His voice sounded cracked, like an ancient record being played with a broken needle.
Black
lashes fluttered, green eyes avoiding his. “Yes. I’m fine.”
Doubt eased an icy finger under his skin. “Anna.”
But she moved yet again, and he felt himself slide free of her body. She twisted to the side, reaching for her discarded underwear.
“Anna? What’s going on?”
“Bathroom.” She didn’t look at him, slipping from the couch, pulling up her underwear. Quickly she crossed the room, bending to pick up her T-shirt and shrugging it on as she disappeared down the hallway.
Finn stared after her retreating figure as the finger of ice became a hand, closing around his heart.
What the fuck?
He cursed under his breath. Had he done something wrong? Had she not wanted this?
Finn…don’t stop…
The sound of her husky voice in his ear calmed the cold pouring through his veins. She had wanted it. She had. So what the hell was going on now?
He pushed himself off the couch, crossed to the kitchen to dispose of the condom, then reached for his jeans and pulled them on. He didn’t know what to do. Whether to go after her and demand she tell him just what her deal was, or stay here and pretend everything was fine.
But of course it wasn’t fine. And he’d always been shit at pretending.
He’d got halfway across the room by the time she came out. Giving him a wary look, she went past him to grab her own jeans, slipping into them before picking up her bra and stuffing it into her backpack.
“What the hell are you doing?” He couldn’t stop the question from coming out like a belligerent demand.
“What does it look like? I’m dressing.”
“And then leaving?”
She didn’t look at him, sitting down on the couch to put her sandals on. “It’ll be dark soon. I want to get home before then.”
Anger, bright and hot and violent, flooded through him. How dare she do this? How dare she give him this…this incredible, perfect experience, and then leave him without a glance? As if it meant nothing.
Finn crossed the room to where she sat. He didn’t stop to think about what he was doing. He merely reached down and hauled her up from the couch by her upper arms, holding them tight. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, low and raw. “We have the most incredible sex ever and then you leave? Without saying a thing?”
Falling for Finn Page 7