Chapter 12 Rowan #2
“Timing, Cal,” Finn calls back, voice rough but playful. “Real solid wingman skills you’ve got.”
Cal just laughs and shakes his head, not even pretending to be sorry. “Place is closed. You gotta head out. Go bang it out…or whatever.
Holy shit. How much time has passed and how long have we been dancing? Because this has been the hottest foreplay I’ve ever had.
Finn leans in, close enough that his breath ghosts against my ear, low enough that only I can hear him. “Don’t think we’re done,” he murmurs. “I’m just getting started. Let’s get out of here.”
A shiver runs all the way down my spine. My heart’s still pounding like the music hasn’t stopped.
When I look up at him, his smile is cocky and soft at the same time. Like he already knows I’ll let him finish what he started.
We leave the bar barefoot, shoes dangling from our fingers, the warm sand folding around our toes.
The tiki lights fade behind us as the music is replaced by the sound of the waves licking the shore.
I had a few sips of my drink and I’m feeling the best buzz of my life.
But it’s not alcohol. It’s him. I’m literally drunk on Finn.
I don’t know whether it’s the perfect starlit sky, the music, or just being with him.
Finn starts singing Conga by Miami Sound Machine, and doing a Conga on the beach by himself, dancing, and I laugh. It’s ridiculous and adorable all at once. He doesn’t remember half the lyrics, so he makes them up, leaning close to me like he’s trying to sell the performance.
I bump my hip into him. “You’re terrible.”
He bumps me right back. “Nope. I’m a national treasure, baby. You just discovered me.”
We sway a little as we walk, tipsy and loose, his arm brushing mine, our fingers grazing until they finally tangle together with Finn still singing, telling me this is my song for the day. I make a mental note to add this song to our playlist because this night is a memory I never want to forget.
The ocean stretches out beside us, calm and endless. The moon has a soft glow over everything like a warm blanket.
I spin toward him, the sand giving way under my feet. He spins with me, still holding my hand, both of us laughing like we’re kids again. My hair falls across my face and the sound of our laughter mixes with the rush of the waves crashing up on the shore.
Then my foot catches in the sand, and I stumble backward. He tries to catch me, but we both go down anyway, tangled together.
I land on my back, sand sticking to my skin, and Finn lands half on top of me, one arm braced in the sand to keep from crushing me. For a second, neither of us moves.
His laughter softens into something quieter, and more serious. He’s looking down at me like I’m also a memory he doesn’t want to forget, and the air between us turns electric. My heartbeat trips over the sound of the waves blurring everything else.
“Hey,” he whispers, still close enough that his breath brushes my cheek.
“Hey,” I breathe back, my voice a little shaky, a little wrecked.
His eyes flick down to my mouth, just for a second, and it’s enough to make the world tilt.
“What if…” he starts, voice rough, then trails off like he’s afraid to say it.
I tilt my chin toward him, my pulse hammering. “What if you kissed me?”
The space between us disappears as his mouth brushes mine, soft at first like a single spark. And then he kisses me deeper, like he’s been waiting for this moment as long as I have.
The world blurs at the edges and the only thing that exists between us is the heat of this kiss. His hand slides up my neck, fingers curling into my hair, holding me there like he’s afraid I might not be real. I arch into him, needing more of him, and more of this.
The weight of his body settles against mine, warm and solid, and my back sinks into the sand. His chest presses to mine, and the contact sets off something low and electric inside me. He tastes like salt and beer and summer, familiar and dangerous all at once.
I fist his shirt in both hands and pull him closer until there’s nothing left between us but heat and skin and everything we’ve been holding back. His tongue slides against mine, slow and sure, and the sound he makes—low, rough, wrecked—shoots straight through me.
Oh my God! I am kissing Finn Bennett! My mind screams, and my heart is doing a fist pump at the same time.
His thumb brushes over my jaw, then drifts lower, tracing the curve of my throat like he wants to memorize every inch. I breathe him in, my heart hammering, my body already swaying toward him.
The kiss turns messy, urgent. My hands slip beneath the edge of his shirt, and he shudders against me like he’s seconds from losing control. His palm slides to my waist, then lower, fingers digging into my hip as if he’s anchoring himself to me.
I gasp into his mouth, and he catches the sound with another kiss, deeper this time, stealing my breath, stealing everything. And at this point he can have it all. All of me. Just take it and take me.
The ocean crashes somewhere behind us, the breeze skims across our overheated skin, and the whole world feels like it’s holding its breath while Finn makes his move and I take it.
He finally pulls back and his forehead rests against mine, both of us panting, lips brushing with every shaky breath.
“Row,” he whispers, as if my name’s a secret he’s finally allowed to say.
I smile, breathless, my fingers still clutching his shirt. “Took you long enough.”
He laughs softly, the sound low and rough in his throat, and it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard from Finn. Because it’s with me. Then he presses a lingering kiss to the corner of my mouth that’s soft, deliberate, and devastating.
“Baby,” he murmurs against my skin, his breath hot and steady. “You’re worth the wait.”
The words hit somewhere deep. Not just a flirtation, but truth. Holy shit. He wants this and he wants me.
Under the moonlight, tangled up in the sand, everything feels electric. Like the start of something, neither of us will be able to stop once it begins.
He tilts his head back down, slow, like he’s savoring every inch between us. I can smell the salt on his skin, the faint warmth of beer on his breath, the sun and sweat and something that’s entirely him.
When his mouth finds mine again, it’s slower this time. Deeper, messier, and his hand skims down my back, fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin like he’s learning me by touch. My hands roam over the hard lines of his shoulders, his chest, and the steady beat beneath his skin.
We stay wrapped up like this, kissing, touching, memorizing. The night disappears, time stretches out, and everything else falls away. At one point I realize I’m matching my breaths to his heartbeat, pressing closer like I could live inside that rhythm.
My fingers trace the ridges of muscle across his back, slide along his chest, over warm skin that smells like sun and saltwater. His hands stroke up and down my sides, every pass slower, deeper, making it impossible to breathe without wanting more.
It’s not a game or a mistake. Is this us finally giving in? My brain has so many questions, but my heart has no answers. I can only focus on him, his touch and everything in this very moment.
I can’t tell you how long we kiss. Minutes. Hours. All I know is the world shrinks down to the sound of the waves, the heat of his mouth, the way he holds me like I’m his prize and he’s memorizing me as well.
At some point, exhaustion slips in, soft and quiet. We end up falling asleep right there, tangled together in the sand, fifty yards from the cottage. The sky is turning pale when I wake, and Finn’s arms are still around me, solid and warm, like they’ve always been meant to hold me.
The ocean hums in the distance, gulls stir somewhere down the beach, but I don’t want to move. Not yet.
This is the best sleep I’ve had in my life. And it’s because it’s with him.