Chapter 14 Rowan #2
I step into the bathroom after him once the water turns off, and as I catch my reflection in the fogged-up mirror, my face is flushed and soft and happy.
That’s the part that gets me. I look… happy.
And I think to myself when was the last time that I actually felt this way?
I don't know if I ever have. Maybe before my dad died.
When things were easier. But I have never felt like this before and it scares me and exhilarates me all at once.
My phone buzzes on the bedside table, pulling me out of my daze. A text thread with my sisters lights up the screen.
Ivy: How’s the trip going?
Willa: Tell us everything. How tan are you? How many fruity drinks have you had? Are there hot guys?
I stare at the messages, and my face gets even hotter. Hot guys. Singular. One. My best friend.
I type back, fingers shaking just a little.
Great! Going to grab lunch and play beach volleyball with Cal.
Totally casual. Nothing to see here. Definitely not recovering from the best sex of my life with the one man I swore I’d never fall for.
The bubbles pop up again almost instantly.
Ivy: So, what's really happening? Did you and Finn finally bang yet?
Willa: Yeah, did you two finally give into this friends-to-lovers thing you've had going on?
I laugh under my breath and toss the phone onto the bed, stepping into the shower to rinse away the morning without actually wanting to.
When I step out, Finn’s leaning against the door frame, hair still damp, wearing swim trunks and a stupid sexy smirk.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, even though ready isn’t the word for what I feel. Because ready means this is normal. And nothing about this feels normal anymore as I grab my phone and purse, and I slide my hand into his and we head out.
The beach shack next to the sand volleyball court is loud, already alive and people enjoying the beach, sunlight glaring off the water, music floating on the breeze, the smell of fries, salt, and sunscreen everywhere. But all I can really focus on is him.
Finn’s across from me, damp hair curling at the ends, ball cap backward, sun warming his golden skin, blue shirt unbuttoned a few buttons showing off his bronze, muscled chest, which feels downright illegal.
He’s lounging back like he owns the damn world, like he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing to me.
He's watching me as if I'm the most interesting thing in the world.
He leans over, slowly and cocky, and snatches one of my onion rings.
I gasp. “Excuse you.”
Then I retaliate, grabbing one of his cheesy fries with a dramatic flourish, because if we’re starting a war, I’m winning it.
He doesn’t even flinch. He just pops the onion ring into his mouth and gives me a look so hot and smug it makes my thighs press together under the table.
“Payment,” he says, voice low and rough like sin.
“I thought I already paid for that,” I say as I slowly lick my lips and then bite my bottom one. His eyes stay fixated on my mouth.
“Baby,” he drawls, leaning closer and whispering as he grabs another, “I made you come so hard this morning. I think I earned the whole damn basket.”
I choke on a laugh and a shaky breath at the same time. “Finn.”
“What?” He feigns innocence, even as he licks a crumb off his thumb in a way that is definitely not innocent. “Gotta keep the books balanced.”
“Balanced,” I repeat flatly in a whisper. “I made you come just as hard if you don't recall.”
He leans closer until his breath skims my ear. “Yeah, so here’s the thing. I’m just getting started with you, Rowan.”
My thighs squeeze tighter and my pulse trips. I try to glare, but I’m pretty sure my face is on fire.
He knows exactly what he’s doing, and I hate how much I love that he knows.
He leans closer, brushing against my shoulder. “You keep looking at me like that and we’re not gonna make it to volleyball,” he murmurs, so quiet only I can hear.
“Finn.” It comes out breathier than I intend.
His hand drops under the table and lands on my knee. It’s warm, firm, and steady, and too much. He doesn’t stop there. His thumb starts rubbing slow circles on the inside of my thigh, just a little higher than innocent.
My whole body locks up, heat flooding through me like a match just caught fire in my chest.
“You’re flushed, baby,” he whispers, grin curving wicked. “You thinking about me?”
I try to swallow but my throat’s dry. “Definitely.”
He dips his head closer, his breath brushing my ear. “I’m starving. And not for food.”
Every inch of me gets hot. I can feel the pulse between my legs pounding like it’s begging for him.
He steals another onion ring like nothing happened. Like his hand isn’t on me and he isn’t slowly working on unraveling me in public. He could have all my food for the rest of my life if it means I get just one more orgasm from this man.
Someone a few tables over laughs at something and almost breaks me out of my trance.
But the way Finn is looking at me is making me nearly come undone again as his finger strokes closer and closer to my already soaked panties.
I tremble and try to focus on his face as his eyes practically talk me through it while I have the quietest and again hardest orgasm of my life as he rubs my clit through my panties in a way that I can’t come back from.
He holds me and grips my pussy as I come hard, shaking silently against him in the booth, everyone oblivious around me.
I turn to him and whisper breathlessly, “Are you just going to do this every day, all day? I mean, I'm not complaining, but this is...wow.”
He whispers back, “I told you I'm going to fucking ruin that pussy, baby. Ruin it.”
And I hate how much I want that.
This is trouble. Big, grinning, dirty-talking Finn trouble. And I’m falling straight into it.