Falling for Finn

by Jackie Ashenden

  “Okay,” she whispered into the darkness. “I’ll hurry.”

  Finn knew he should be asking her more questions. Such as why the hell, after three weeks of silence, she’d suddenly turned up here in his apartment. Why she suddenly wanted to give him what he’d demanded back in his office.

  But part of him was loath to ask those questions, especially when he wasn’t sure of the answers. And most especially now she had her hand on his cock.

  He’d been in the shower when he’d heard the hammering on his door, urgent and panicked, so he’d hardly bothered drying himself, only stopping to haul on his jeans. He hadn’t bothered with underwear, and now Anna knew that too.

  Her fingers were cool on his hot skin, and he cursed as they tightened around him. So many questions. All of them unimportant. Her thumb slowly circled the head of his cock, gentle and yet with enough pressure to make him groan. “Anna…” Her fingers moved again, squeezing, and fireworks just about went off in his head.

  It had been so long without her. So fucking long. And now she was here, at last, in his bed. Where he’d always wanted her be. Where she belonged.

  He wanted to push her down beneath him, naked and hot and wet for him. Take her hard. Then slow. Take her so she screamed in his arms. Close the distance. Make the connection.

  But she’d asked for control and so he’d give it to her. Plenty of time for what he wanted later.

  Her hands began to pull his jeans down and he helped her, lifting his hips so she could get them off. And when he lay naked, he liked the way she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. Liked the hesitant little touches she gave him. Especially liked the way her hands shook.

  “Your turn now, Green Eyes,” he whispered and pushed himself up, wanting to help.

  But she shook her head. “I’ll do it.”

  He began to protest, but she stopped him with a finger on his mouth. “Please, Finn. I have to do it myself.”

  He couldn’t refuse her. So he made himself sit there, hard and aching for her as she turned away from him, getting rid of her jeans. A bar of light speared through a gap in the curtains, coming from the streetlights outside, shining over her pale skin. So smooth. It illuminated the soft, vulnerable nape of her neck as she bent to remove her underwear. Dark hair brushing white skin, the pale curve of her spine beneath.

  Unable to help himself, Finn put a hand on the back of her neck, the touch of her skin sending whispers of electricity through him. Then he let his fingers trail lightly down her back.

  She went still.

  He frowned. “You don’t want me to touch you?”

  A small pause. “Not yet.” Her voice sounded tense. Then she added, in a slightly different tone, “Just lie there and think of England.”

  Slightly puzzled, Finn nevertheless did what he was told. Hell, who was he to complain? Finally, he was getting what he’d wanted. What he’d dreamed about for so long. Anna in his bed and staying there.

  He lay back against the white duvet cover, watching her as she eventually turned around.

  “Hello, Snow White,” he murmured.

  She rolled her eyes. “My hair is brown, idiot.”

  “Yeah, but it looks black now. And you have white skin. Red mouth. Beautiful green eyes.”

  “You’re obsessed.”

  “With your eyes? Guilty.” And then, noticing the expression on her face. “What’s wrong?”

  Her jaw tightened a little. “Condoms?”

  “Ah. Bedside table. Left drawer.”

  She found them easily, picking out a packet and ripping it open.

  “You’re keen, I see.”

  “No point wasting time, is there?” She leaned over him, rolling the latex down on him with a quick movement.

  His breath caught as her hand touched his already rock-hard cock. “Foreplay is wasting time?”

  Even in the darkness of the room, he could see her blush. “No. I just…” She paused, her hand still on him, her head bent, her hair veiling her expression. Then she looked at him. “This is still new, Finn, and I need to do it my way. Just for a bit. Okay?”

  Vulnerability in the look she gave him. Something that made his throat close. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready.”

  Her lovely mouth lost its tight look. “I’m ready now.”

  She rose above him, straddling him, gripping him. Then she slid down onto his cock with one graceful undulation of her hips, and his mind ceased to function. Tight, wet heat surrounded him, the feel of her so good he groaned aloud. Her hands came down on his chest and she began to move, slow and a little hesitant.

  It was agonizing. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

  He fought the urge to grab her, drive hard into her, wanting to give her this, but his need for her began to pound in his head like the heartbeat of some huge animal. Slow and relentless.

  She didn’t look at him, her head bent, dark curtains of hair falling over her face, hiding her expression. She began to move faster on him, her breathing coming in little pants, her movements oddly jerky.

  Finn put his hands on her hips, wanting to move her with him, wanting some kind of contact because somehow this didn’t feel right. “Look at me, Anna.”

  A softly indrawn breath. “Finn, no.” And she knocked his hands away.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  Her chin came up, her eyes gone dark in her pale face. He couldn’t read the expression in them. “My way, remember?”

  How could he protest? He couldn’t. Not without shattering the moment. A moment that felt on the brink of shattering already.

  Slowly, he put his hands palms down on the sheet, away from her. “Your way,” he whispered. “For now.”

  The subtle tension in her body seemed to ebb. She nodded and then slowly, slowly she began to move again.

  He lay back, curling his fingers in the sheets, holding on as she moved on him, the slide of his cock in her sex making him grit his teeth. The physical pleasure unbelievable and yet, and yet…

  Something was missing.

  Finn watched her as she moved, her head bent, the heat of her palms on his chest like twin beams of sunlight. He couldn’t see her face. Couldn’t see her eyes. As if she was shutting him out.

  “Anna,” he began.

  But the words died in his throat as she leaned forward suddenly, pressing her mouth to his throat, the softness of her breasts against his chest, silky strands of hair on his skin. His mind went blank, need and desire and desperation overwhelming him.

  Forgetting everything except the need to hold her close, he put his arms around her, holding her tightly as she kissed his neck, his shoulder, the roughness of her tongue against his skin. Pleasure rocketed through him, building up, pushing him to the edge.

  He said her name in a low, raw voice, tangling his fingers in her hair, wanting to look into her face, look into her eyes. But somehow she twisted out of his grip and then he forgot even that as desire engulfed him. He grabbed her hips, arched his back, driving himself up into her. Holding tight as light exploded behind his eyes and the orgasm wrenched him apart.

  For long minutes afterwards he just lay there, trying to get his sense of self back together again.

  Then he felt Anna move, lifting herself off him. He reached for her but she avoided his grasp. “Bathroom,” she murmured, and before he could speak, she’d slipped off the bed and out of the room.

  Not again.

  Slowly, Finn sat up, still trying to get his breathing under control, staring at the doorway. A cold, empty feeling began to wind through him.

  He wanted to hold her. Ached for it. And yet she’d avoided him. What the hell was going on?

  She’d told him she’d come here to give him what he wanted, and he’d thought that was everything.

  Then again, when he’d held her in his arms, he hadn’t actually been doing too much in the way of thinking. Precisely zero thinking in actual fact. All he’d been conscious of was that finally she was here, after so long away from him, giving
him what he wanted.

  But what had just happened wasn’t what he wanted.

  She’d sat on him, getting him off like it had been some kind of chore. She hadn’t even looked at him. Not once.

  I need to do it my way.

  What the fuck way was that?

  He wanted that intensity, that connection that afternoon he’d made love to her on his couch. Wanted to look into her eyes and see her soul. Her heart. See her feel it like he did.

  Because she had felt it, he knew she had. But now? Now she’d run away.

  Just like she always did.

  Finn pushed himself off the bed.

  To hell with that.

  Chapter Eleven

  Anna bent down and picked up the discarded T-shirt that lay on the floor of the bathroom. She must have arrived while he’d been in the shower because he wasn’t normally untidy enough to leave his clothes on the floor.

  She shrugged into it, feeling a little better as the dark-blue cotton covered her. Feeling less exposed was always good. The shirt smelled of him, and for a moment she allowed herself to breathe him in, trying to ease the ache in her chest. Ease the sense she’d made a mistake.

  Crossing to the basin, she splashed some water on her face. Anything to cool the heat inside her.

  Her body ached. An insistent throb between her thighs. She hadn’t come, had brought him off instead. All intentional, of course. She hadn’t wanted him to touch her, hadn’t wanted to look into his eyes, hadn’t wanted anything that might spark that overwhelming intensity. Even at the expense of her own pleasure.

  She’d hoped he’d be good with that. Hoped she’d be happy too. But she wasn’t. All she felt was the dull ache of disappointment. Emptiness. Dissatisfaction.

  And she knew he’d felt it too because she’d caught a glimpse of his expression as she’d left the room. Seen the shock on it.

  For a second she covered her face with her hands, unable to bear it. This wasn’t what she’d intended. She’d wanted hot, fun sex. Nothing too emotional. Nothing too intense. And yet what she’d got was…nothing. Like she’d reached for what she thought was gold and came away with a handful of gravel.

  But what else could she do? Gravel was all she felt equipped to deal with right now.

  After a moment, Anna dropped her hands from her face and took a step out of the bathroom. No sound came from the bedroom on her left, and suddenly she couldn’t face him. Turning right instead, she padded down the hallway and out into the lounge, going over to the open-plan kitchen in one corner to get herself a glass of water.

  “Are you going to tell me what that was all about?”

  Slowly, Anna put the glass down on the bench and turned around.

  Finn stood behind her, leaning one hip against the wooden breakfast bar, magnificently, gloriously naked.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him. “What was what about?”

  “No,” he said with absolute certainty. “You don’t get to do this anymore, Anna Jameson. You don’t get to come here and tell me you’re going to ‘give me what I want’, use me like some kind of fucking vibrator, then vanish from my bed like you can’t wait to leave.”

  She stared at him and noticed, at last, the fury in his eyes. In his whole posture. It burned off him in waves, like heat off a baking road. And he had a right to it.

  She had used him. Used him to get what she wanted—him back in her life.

  Oh yeah, she could tell herself that’s what he’d asked for, but that would be disingenuous. They both knew he’d wanted more than that.

  I want your fucking soul.

  And that was the one thing she couldn’t give him. Didn’t want to give him. Because she was too damn afraid it would blow up in her face and leave her with nothing left for herself.

  Fighting a creeping sense of shame, Anna had only defensive anger to fall back on. “Okay, if we’re going to play that game, you don’t get to trade our friendship away just because I can’t give you the sex you want.”

  “So that’s what you came here to give me. Sex.”

  Her jaw tightened. “I told you that’s all it was.”

  He moved, so fast she had no time to move or get away, and then he was right in front of her, one hand on the wood of the bar, the other gripping her chin, forcing her head back to meet his dark, burning gaze.

  “You wouldn’t even look at me, Anna.” A raw sound in his voice. “I’m not even worth one fucking look to you?”

  She couldn’t seem to breathe. The edge of the breakfast bar dug into her as she pressed back against it, wanting to get away from all his heat, his anger. The accusation in his eyes, and deeper than that, the hurt.

  Confrontation. God, how she hated it.

  “Of course you are,” she said hoarsely.

  “Then what the hell were you doing back there? It’s like you were shutting me out.” More anger in his gaze. “Or were you imagining I was someone else?”

  “No!” She took a ragged breath. “I would never do that to you.”

  “Then what was it?”

  “I was afraid.”

  His gaze changed, sharpened. “Of me?”

  “Yes.”

  Shock edged the anger in his face. “Why? What the hell did I do?”

  And from somewhere, the total and unvarnished truth came spilling out of her. “You touched me. You looked at me. Made me feel—” She stopped dead, realizing what she was saying.

  The fingers on her chin tightened. “Made you feel what?”

  A shiver went through her. Held motionless by his hand, by his body pressing against hers, she had no way to escape. No way to get away from him. Away from the dark eyes that seemed to see into her, all the way through to the small, frightened creature she was inside. The creature terrified of what she felt for him. Terrified of the hungry, desperate need she’d been telling herself she didn’t feel for so very long.

  “Too much, Finn,” she gasped out. “You make me feel too much.”

  He didn’t move. Didn’t take his eyes from hers. “That’s what you’re afraid of?”

  “Yes, of course I’m bloody afraid of it! I don’t want this. I never wanted this.”

  “Why not?” The question was all raw demand. “What’s wrong with it?”

  She struggled to get some air into her lungs. Struggled against his nearness, against the need opening up inside her, wanting him so very badly. Struggled to find the words to explain something that was almost beyond words. “I told you. It’s too intense. I hate feeling this way and I hate arguing with you. It’s like my parents all over again.”

  His dark brows drew down. “This isn’t anything like that.”

  Of course, he wouldn’t understand. He hadn’t seen her mother shrieking and throwing plates. Hadn’t seen her father yelling horrible, cutting things in return. They’d never come to blows but that hadn’t made it any easier. If that was passion, if that was love, she didn’t want it. Not any of it.

  “I can’t explain it. But you just don’t get it—”

  “I get it. I get you’re afraid. But this is nothing like your parents. And there’s nothing to be afraid of. Nothing.” The hand on the bar moved, slipping under her T-shirt to rest on the bare skin of her thigh. She shivered, unable to help it as the hand slid higher to cup her butt.

  “Don’t,” she murmured, pushing one hand against his bare chest. But there was no force to the word. His hand on her skin felt so unbelievably good. So right.

  “Let me show you, beautiful,” he whispered. “Feel it with me.”

  She wanted to say no, pull herself from his arms, but then his head bent and his mouth pressed to her jaw, her throat, nuzzling against her skin. The hand cupping her butt shifted a little, his fingers sliding down and inwards, brushing against the soft, wet folds of her sex.

  Anna gave a soft, strangled cry, shards of pleasure shattering through her, piercing her. Helplessly, she found herself arching away from his searching fingers, only to find no escape, the hard press of hi
s erection against her stomach, his body a wall in front of her.

  And then the hot lick of his tongue in the hollow of her throat, his teeth nipping gently at the sensitive place between shoulder and neck.

  No. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t have this. Something inside her was on the verge of breaking apart and it scared her to death.

  “Finn,” she murmured, a broken sound. “Finn, please.”

  “No.” The heat of his breath shimmered over her skin. “I won’t let you run, Anna. Not this time.”

  Abruptly, his arms were around her and he picked her up, carrying her into the lounge. She didn’t fight him and she couldn’t think why not. Because she didn’t want this. And yet her body hummed with anticipation, with excitement. Trembled with need. Wanting something from him. Desperate for him.

  Finn set her down in front of the old red velvet armchair, and without warning pulled the T-shirt she wore up and over her head, baring her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice cracked, shivering.

  His hands came to rest on her hips, then gave her a gentle push, making her sit down in the armchair. “I have a fantasy.” He uncurled one hand and she realized he’d been carrying something in it. More than one something. Condom packets. Finn dropped them on the floor and then, to her shock, he went to his knees in front of her. “It concerns you.”

  She should be getting up and leaving. Should be running as far and as fast as she could. And yet somehow she wasn’t. All she could see was the hungry, intent look on his beautiful face. Finn-the-stranger.

  No. He’s not a stranger now and you know it.

  And she did. Somehow this look, this intensity was becoming familiar to her as much as his smile and his friendship had been.

  Her breath came in a soft gasp. “A fantasy?”

  “Yes.” His hands rested on her knees, gentle. “I’ve fantasized about you for years. And this one is my favorite.”

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him. “What one?”

  His eyes were the color of the black heart of midnight, the light from the lamp next to them tipping his lashes gold. Picking up the gilt in his hair. “You, naked in this chair, with your legs spread over the arms. And me, licking you. Tasting you until you scream.”