Chapter 30
Beckett
“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” I say, desperate to get out of my snow-covered clothes, but equally as concerned that Finley is about to bolt again. “Don’t leave.”
As I just witnessed, Finley Blake is not the type of woman to wait around when she’s decided she’s going to do something. Especially not when the man she’s waiting for is someone she’s been avoiding for weeks. The one she went out in a fucking whiteout in order to avoid.
It’s truly astounding how royally I fucked things up with her.
All because I had to open my damn mouth.
That deep sense of need that I thought I couldn’t bear any longer? Way less painful than having her dart from the room anytime I enter. Or the nights at home that were never a problem before but now are unbearably lonely.
I quickly change into a clean pair of sweats, throwing on the thickest Yeti hoodie I own before hustling out to the living room. Finley’s sitting on the couch in her usual spot, a lost look on her face as she stares out my window.
“Here.” I hand her the extra pair of sweats I grabbed. “You can change in the guest room. Or the bathroom. A hot shower might be nice. For you,” I say, before forcing my mouth closed. Rambling is not helping this situation.
“Are you okay?” she asks quietly, and my heart aches at the worry in her tone.
“A little chilly, but otherwise totally fine.” I spin in a circle. “See? The cold doesn’t bother me.”
“I think that’s supposed to be my line.” She stands slowly, her eyes scanning me. Stepping closer, she reaches out a hand, her warmth burning into my skin as she touches my cheek. “Why would you do that, Beckett?”
“It wasn’t safe.” I’m not sure what she doesn’t get about this. I would follow her anywhere: a snowstorm, the desert, the fucking moon if it means I can keep her safe.
Her thumb gently caresses my cheek, and I can’t help but lean into it. “You could’ve gotten hurt,” she says.
“I know. But I couldn’t force myself to care. I just needed to make sure you were okay. That’s all that mattered to me.”
We stand there for a moment, her fingers lightly brushing my face, our gazes locked.
Finally, I say the words I’ve been trying to say for the last two weeks. “I’m so sorry, Fin.”
She cocks her head to the side slightly. “For what?”
“For ruining our friendship.”
She lets out a breath that could be a sigh or a chuckle. “That’s not at all what happened.”
After dropping her hand, she takes the clothes from me. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Beckett. Truly. I’m the one who should apologize. So, I’m sorry I’ve acted like a child lately.”
“You don’t need to—”
She holds up a hand, cutting me off. “I do. Our friendship—you—means so much to me. And I acted like you didn’t. It wasn’t right.”
I stare at her, not sure what to say, when all I want to do is confess that this is so much more than friendship. That I want more. That I want everything with her.
Instead, when she steps around me to head into the bathroom, I let her go. I won’t put her in an awkward spot again, even if it means popping every thought of more as it bubbles to the surface.
“I put on the Phantoms game,” I tell Finley when she exits the bathroom a few minutes later. “I also pulled the comforter off my bed. Turns out, I don’t own a blanket.”
When she walks over, I smile at the way my clothes fully engulf her smaller frame. “You look good, Fin.”
She lightly punches my arm as she sits in her spot on the couch. I throw our makeshift blanket over her lap, taking the opportunity to cuddle slightly closer.
For the body heat, of course.
We watch the game in silence for a few minutes, falling into our old rhythm.
These past few weeks have taught me that, even when we’re not talking, just being with Finley is enough to make me feel whole in a way I’m not sure I have since I started playing hockey.
Since I started chasing my dad’s dreams and embracing them as my own.
“I wanted to say yes,” Finley admits, her eyes still glued to the game on the television.
“What?” I ask.
“I’ve been avoiding you, not because you wanted to kiss me, but because I wanted to say yes.” She finally looks at me, and I can see the uncertainty in her eyes.
“You… wanted me to kiss you?” I ask, a million butterflies taking off in my stomach at once.
She nods, her gaze dropping from mine to my lips.
This. It’s everything I’ve wanted, and all the things I know I can’t have.
That I shouldn’t have. But, if Finley wants it, too, who am I to resist?
Hell, I haven’t been able to resist her since we started spending time together.
What would possibly make me think I could do it now, when she’s looking at me like that?
“Do you want me to kiss you now?”
She nods again, just once, and as much as I want to crash my lips against hers, I can’t risk a misunderstanding. Instead, I lean toward her, my hand finding her cheek. As I lightly stroke it with my thumb, I murmur, “I need to hear you say it, Queenie. Tell me I can kiss you.”
Rather than responding, she leans toward me, her mouth pressing against mine as her arms wrap around my neck. I catch her, lowering us both, so she’s lying on top of me as our lips explore each other.
The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s heated and rough, and I demand more, teasing my tongue along the entrance to her mouth. She opens for me, and suddenly our tongues are dancing, a sensual entwining that snaps every last thread of my control.
I pull her body into mine, my hips thrusting of their own accord when she grips my bicep to rock slightly against me. It’s just one small movement, but it ignites a raging need inside me. The one that’s been building for months.
“Can I—” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“Yes,” she replies, her ice-blue eyes dark with lust.
I chuckle, the sound warm and deep between us. “You don’t know what I was going to ask.”
“It doesn’t matter. The answer is yes. I fucking want this. I want it all.”
A tiny voice in the back of my head tries to tell me this isn’t a good idea, that she doesn’t mean it, but I forcibly shut it down. Finley Blake is not someone who agrees to things she doesn’t want.
I have her borrowed sweatshirt over her head seconds later and throw it as far from the couch as I possibly can. Making sure she’s covered with the comforter, I start to explore.
My hands flow from her ass to the sides of her breasts, tracing and teasing every line as I continue to kiss her.
Needing more access, I wrap my arms around her and flip us both. Our lips break apart, and I drop my forehead to hers, breathing heavily.
“Fuck,” I groan. “You’re perfect.”
A cocky smile plays across her lips. “Then why are you stopping? Make me come, Beckett.”
I drop my mouth to her beautiful, dark pink nipple, nipping at it gently before sucking it into my mouth. She may be in charge most of the time, but not here.
She arches at the touch, letting out a sigh as her fingers rake through my hair. I suck harder, and her body jerks. I’m sure I could have her falling apart in minutes, me following close behind, no doubt, but now it’s a challenge. And I plan on making this last as long as possible.
Before I make her come, of course.
“That’s right, just like that,” I murmur as she whimpers slightly.
I take my time, exploring, tasting, sucking. Moving from her neck to her perky tits to her hip bones and back up again.
She grinds against my erection, and I moan, “Good fucking girl.”
I move against her, the friction like a trophy at the end of a hard-fought season, but when she gets too close, I pull back, keeping the tension at a point that’s enough but not too much.
“Fuck, Beckett,” she breathes. “Please.”
I stop my ministrations, leaning close to her ear. “Since you asked so nicely.”
She shudders as my breath caresses her ear, and I take that moment to slip my hand between us and into her oversized sweatpants.
“Fuck, baby, are you not wearing any underwear?”
She shakes her head, a wicked smile pulling across her face. “They were freezing.”
I am never washing these pants again.
I work two fingers over her clit, dipping them into her wet pussy to get the slickness I need. She’s tight and warm, and I barely hold back from stripping her naked and taking her hard and fast.
But I don’t know if that works for her, and I need her to come before I take her the way I want to. Because once I’m in her tight heat, there’s no way I’m going to have enough blood flow to my brain to make sure she comes first.
While stroking the inside of her channel with a finger, I work her clit with my thumb. She moves against me, soft moans slipping past her lips.
Her eyes lose focus, and her head drops back onto the couch as her body arches against me.
“Eyes on me,” I say, a jolt of pleasure racing through me as her dazed icy blues meet my gaze.
“Please, Beckett. Please,” she moans, her hips speeding up their search.
“That’s right. Just like that. You’re doing so good.”
I keep talking to her, telling her how perfect she is, as I slip another finger inside her, finding that rough spot and pressing with the pads of both fingers. At the same time, I increase the pace on her clit slightly, and from the low “fuck” she releases, I know she’s close.
With a sweeping press of my fingers inside her, she comes apart, squeezing me as her body pulses with pleasure.
As she comes down, I kiss her cheeks, her neck, her chest. “Look at you. You’re amazing. I’ve never seen anything as perfect.”
She takes a deep breath before meeting my eyes. “Fuck. That was… wow.”
I slide my fingers out of the front of her sweatpants, holding her gaze as I suck them into my mouth.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I say before licking my lips to ensure I don’t miss a drop.