Chapter 8
Eight
Finn
I don’t have time to care whether this is right or wrong. All I know is Skylar is in front of me, flushed and overheated, her arms above her head as she clutches the wood, her glazed eyes begging for mercy.
Trailing my hands down the inside of her arms, I memorize every inch of her soft skin and the way it feels, the way it moves. Her rosy cheeks. The freckles on her unbelievable breasts. Those perky pink nipples, shining and swollen from my sucking.
“I’ve been thinking about you for three weeks while I was going through hell,” I tell her.
Her pretty eyebrows draw together. “You have?”
I nod. “Buried in email and paperwork and worried sick about my guys. Thinking about you. Your wit, your smile, your ambition. Most of all your laugh—it got me through. It’s too damn bad I was too much of an idiot to come right out and demand Oliver ask for your number.”
Her glossy lips part. “I don’t know what to say.”
She doesn’t need to say anything. I just need her to be with me right now.
My world has been upside down, and I finally feel like I’m on steady footing when her eyes are on me.
It’s probably too soon to tell her all that. And too soon to tell her the real reason I bought the building.
“The only sound you need to worry about is telling me to stop if you need me to stop. Or scream my fucking name if it feels good.”
“Oh god…”
Her whole body trembles as I shove her jeans down her legs, along with her pretty pink panties.
I let them stay at her knees, and I get a good look at her with my hand on her inner thigh, as if I own it.
Goddamn, she’s beautiful everywhere.
I move that hand higher, watching her twitch and suck in a breath as I reach the juncture between her thighs.
“Shit, you’re already wet, Strawberry.”
She whimpers as I slide my fingers between her wet folds, knowing this is the point at which my obsession has no return. Her scent will be on me all day. I’ll never be able to shake the memory of her. If she doesn’t want to be with me after this, then fuck me, I guess.
I let my middle finger work its way inside.
“Finn,” she gasps.
“That’s it,” I rasp.
I begin stroking her clit at the same time.
She pushes off the wall, bringing her arms down and scraping her nails over the back of my neck.
I kiss her hard.
Skylar comes apart in my hands.
“Oh god! Finn!”
The little worry lines in her forehead relax just before she lets go. Her body stiffens, and her mouth goes slack as all the tension leaves her.
Watching her, helping her get there. It’s not what I expected to be doing today.
But I’m damn happy about it.
I kiss her again, softly this time, holding on to her as she trembles through the waves of her orgasm.
“Fucking beautiful,” I murmur against her mouth. “Fucking mine.”
Skylar’s face changes when I say that. Something has made her check out.
I ask, “You good?”
She doesn’t answer but reaches for my cock. I gently push her hands away. Not like this. Not if she doesn’t want to.
“Where’d you go just now?”
“Huh?”
“In your head. Did I say something wrong? Did I hurt you?”
She shakes her head. “Don’t be silly.”
Her hand reaches for my waistband again, but I circle my hand around her wrist, softly.
“Sweetheart. Talk to me.”
“Don’t you want me to get you off?” A sly smile returns to that beautiful face, but something is wrong.
That’s the last thing I need if she’s not into it. She can lick her lips and give me all the flirty looks, but I do not want anyone going through the motions.
“Another time. We’re losing daylight, and I need to get some work done before I get carried away,” I tell her.
She blinks rapidly as I kiss her mouth one more time, unsure if I’ve screwed this up completely.
“Oh. Work. Right.”
We give each other a minute to catch our breath, and I stand guard as she pulls her jeans back up and zips them.
Skylar straightens her hair.
“Have dinner with me tonight?” I ask.
She looks like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh.”
“To be clear, I’m asking you on a date,” I say.
Skylar hesitates, and I don’t push the matter any further.
Turning away, I walk to the workbench and pull on my shirt. I’m thankful for the task of buttoning my shirt so she doesn’t see my reaction when she replies, “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”
“Sure. You and I should be professional partners.”
She sighs. “I’m so relieved you see it that way.”
I pick up the board I was working on before and set it on the table saw. “Want me to show you how to make a shelf?”
Skylar beams at me. “Absolutely.”
I hand her the discarded hard hat and safety glasses and stand close to her as I show her how to line up the board and control the saw.
I’m grateful for the noise. It drowns out the thousand questions in my head that she’s not going to answer today.