Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“I thought you hated me, and you had every right to, but then we’d have these little moments, and I thought…
maybe not. Maybe she feels the same way I do.
But then I’d do something stupid, and I was so fecking defensive.
” Finn rolled his lips together, then shook his head with a breathy laugh.
“You turn me into a bleeding eejit, you know that?”
I choked on something between a sob and a laugh, and the corner of Finn’s lips curled up, his eyes dancing between mine.
“But during that dinner service with the chef on board, when I broke down, when I lost control…” He swallowed.
“You saved me. And I realized right then that I couldn’t pretend anymore.
I realized it didn’t matter who I hurt or what anyone watching this bloody show would think of me.
I realized I couldn’t let the possibility of you shutting me down keep me from putting myself out there and telling you how I really feel — not again. ” He shrugged. “So, at the beach…”
Fire licked along my spine at the memory — his words by the water, his hand on the back of my neck, his tentative touch when he thought no one was looking, when we were covered by the shadow of night.
But acid scorched my throat when I remembered what happened next.
“You were drunk,” I said icily. “And you kissed Gi not even two seconds after you wrecked me with your touch.”
“She kissed me,” he corrected. “And I broke away as soon as it happened. I also explained why she did it in the note I gave you.”
I blinked. “Note?”
“The note? That I slipped under your door the next morning?” Finn frowned the longer I went staring at him like he had a screw loose. “Shit… tell me you got the note, Firefly.”
I shook my head.
“Fuck.” He tore one hand from me long enough to run it through his hair. “Gisella…” He tongued his cheek, laughing to himself and shaking his head before he turned back to me. Finn took my hands in earnest then, his eyes locked on mine. “I had already broken things off with her, Em.”
My next breath lodged in my throat. “You… what?”
“That night after the dinner disaster. I took her up on the sundeck and told her I couldn’t do it anymore.
She tried to talk me out of it, thought it was because she’d kissed Cameron, but I assured her I would have felt the same regardless.
We talked for hours. We cried. I care for her, Em, I do.
She was there for me at a really vulnerable time in my life.
I didn’t want to hurt her. But I couldn’t let her think I still felt the same when I knew I didn’t, when my every waking thought was consumed by you. ”
I was speechless. My wheels spun faster and faster as I tried to track through everything. “But at the beach… she was talking like you—”
“Were still together? Yeah. She wasn’t ready to let anyone know.
She begged me to wait a few days, to let her do it on her terms. She wanted to have a big breakup where she was the one who called things off.
I told her she could do whatever she wanted.
” He shrugged. “Like I said last night — I’ll be the bad guy.
I don’t fecking care. As long as I have you. ”
My jaw was unhinged but I couldn’t think of a single word to say.
“I thought she’d do it last night, make a big scene or whatever, but she didn’t.
So yeah, she was still hanging on me, still stealing a kiss here and there.
But she knew where I stood. She was just using me for whatever game she’s playing at.
” He shook his head. “I still can’t figure it out, but I respected her enough to at least try to let her have it the way she wanted it.
But then I saw you tonight with Eli, and I… ”
Finn’s nostrils flared, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes darted between mine.
“I fucking lost it, Em.”
“I wanted you to,” I confessed.
“You think I don’t know that?” He laughed a little then, reaching up to thumb my chin.
“It was a dare. A challenge. And I knew as soon as you walked outside that I was over all the pretending. I didn’t care what Gisella wanted anymore.
I was done with the games. I was going to kiss my girl and I was going to get her back — cameras and public opinion be damned. ”
Sparrow wings tickled my stomach as the corner of my mouth lifted. “Your girl, huh?”
At that, Finn slid his hand over my jaw, hooking me behind the neck and pulling me into him. “Damn right.”
He kissed me, and those flutters I’d felt in my stomach from his words dipped lower, igniting a part of me I’d thought was dead. I’d tried so hard to use other people as a distraction since we broke up, but it never worked.
And now that my body was firing up from the simplest kiss, I remembered why.
Sharing intimacy with anyone after having Finn was like trying to substitute a shot of whiskey with a non-alcoholic beer. It didn’t burn. It didn’t tingle. It didn’t satisfy.
“I’m not even drunk,” I whispered against his lips before I was seeking another kiss. “I can’t blame any of this on alcohol.”
“I haven’t had a single sip tonight.”
I laughed, and then I was on the move, crawling into his lap with my mouth traveling along his stubbled jaw. “We’re terrible.”
“Truly awful,” he said breathlessly, his hands fastening to my hips and helping me climb him.
“They’re going to hate us.”
“Absolutely loathe our existence.”
Each sentence came between a heated kiss, a passionate roll of my body against his, a claiming grip of his fingertips in my skin.
“No one will understand.”
“We understand,” Finn said, and this time he stopped everything long enough to lock his eyes on mine.
“That’s all that matters to me. I know what I want.
I know I’ll risk everything to have it.” He swallowed.
“But I’ll walk out of this room and leave you alone forever if you don’t feel the same. If this is too much…”
“Shut up,” I breathed against his mouth, and then the words and confessions faded away as I raked my hands through his hair and held on tight.
I sat fully on him, rocking my hips, the sensitive heat between my legs finding the sweetest friction against his hard shaft.
We groaned together, my body trembling as Finn’s hands slid from my hips to my ass and gripped hard.
He used the new handle on me to help me roll, to pull me flush against him as he bucked his hips up to meet mine.
It was too much and not enough. I needed more of him, and also felt I’d die from even one more touch. Every sensation was overloaded — my head light, skin buzzing, blood pumping.
This was it.
The dynamite explosion.
For years, I’d convinced myself I’d never have him again. My body had mourned the death of his touch and now it was being revived. Shock and disbelief mixed with such an intense longing and sense of right that I had no choice but to submit to the confusing ecstasy of it all.
I fell into the dark, passionate, bottomless pit.
And Finn caught me.
His touch was everywhere — hands dragging from hips to hair and back again, lips trailing fiery kisses along the column of my throat, down the lacy neckline of my silk top, over each swell of my breast and back up to my mouth.
We couldn’t catch our breaths, both of us panting and moaning and gripping and clawing. We were torn between savoring each taste of skin or shredding every piece of clothing still separating us.
A man possessed. A woman consumed. The kind of passion that ends wars or starts them.
Maybe it was toxic. Maybe we were the villains.
But fuck, to me?
This felt like the victorious sunset ride as the credits rolled.