Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
OAKLEIGH
I’m one thumb circle and a kiss on the temple away from losing my shit.
There’s faking a relationship, and then there’s whatever the fuck the two of us are doing. I can’t even say he’s laying it on thick, because he isn’t, but whatever he’s doing is so much that my nerves are shot.
He’s been keeping me close all evening, a possessive hand always close by.
Between each of his turns playing pool, his finger is tracing shapes on the sliver of exposed skin on my lower back.
When we’re sitting at the booth, his thumb is tracing teasing circles on the inside of my thigh, leaving me a quivering mess with crossed legs.
Me? I’ve been actively ignoring the empty seat beside him, choosing to instead perch myself on his lap like some piece of eye candy. My hand has barely stopped tracing shapes and letters on the back of his neck, mostly because I enjoy the way it makes him shiver.
I’m confused and now horny beyond belief and it’s all down to Finn’s perfect-boyfriend persona and my now very weak promise to myself to stop dating.
I need him to explain why he seems to find looking after me and teasing me to be his ideal combination, when all he really needs to do to sell our ruse is to plant a few kisses on me and slap my ass once or twice.
But no, it’s perfectly timed touches, and whispered nothings in my ear that bring up involuntary laughs.
Wren and Gus are playing a game of pool, and I’m sitting to watch my best friend kick her fiancé’s ass.
“That’s my girl!” I yell, the other five beers I’ve had since we arrived hitting me.
Wren shakes her ass at me before giving it a slap and blowing me a kiss. I blow one right back.
“Not something one particularly wants to see his sister do, but cool.” Finn cringes as he waits for Bash to finish his turn on their table.
“You’ve witnessed a lot worse,” Gus notes.
“Don’t remind me.”
“I feel your pain, man.” Bash puts a reassuring hand on Finn’s shoulder.
“How the fuck do you feel his pain?” Gus asks.
“Oh, I’m sorry, are we forgetting about the time I found the two of you getting it on in the pumpkin patch?”
“Nice.” I give Wren a high five.
“Not when you unintentionally see your brother’s dick for the first time since you were five.”
“Next time, don’t look,” Gus says with an eye roll.
Bash sends Finn a “is he being serious” look, to which Finn just shrugs and plays his turn.
“How’s it going?” Sam asks as he takes the seat beside me.
“It’s going,” I reply as I unashamedly watch Finn bend over to take a shot. “Finn told me that you know.”
“I know,” he confirms.
“Are you going to tell anyone?”
He genuinely looks shocked. “You think I’d do that to you?”
I don’t think he would. Not even a little bit. Sam is the last person to stir the pot, because he knows it would be shit to have his own pot stirred. Not only that, he’s just kind enough to do this favor for us.
“No,” I say eventually. “No, I don’t think you would.”
His smile returns and he gives me a side-hug. “I think that whatever it is the two of you are doing will be good for both of you. I think that whatever this is will become very real.”
“Real?”
He nods. “I’ve seen you together tonight. There’s no acting, no pretend. It’s just two people who genuinely want one another but are just too hurt by life to admit it yet. And that’s fine. There’s no rush.”
I stare at my friend, dumbfounded. “Everything that Gus and Bash say about you really is so confusing. You’re nothing like what they say.”
His smile falters. “Yeah, well … it’s not lies, what they’re saying. It’s just how I used to be.”
I assess Sam for a moment longer before he buckles under my gaze, leaving a kiss on my cheek before getting up and claiming that whoever loses between Wren and Gus, he will be taking their place.
When Finn and Bash’s game ends, my fake boyfriend returns to my side, his fingers tugging the ends of my hair.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m all good.”
He takes a seat beside me, his hand immediately claiming my upper thigh. My breath hitches, my eyes closing slightly.
“Finley.”
His breath crashes against the side of my neck. “Yes, Cherry?”
Sensation bursts through me, want and need coursing through my veins.
Before I know it, Finn’s hand is in mine and I’m dragging him across the bar, which is slowly emptying. I pull him into the corridor leading to the bathrooms; a hallway with low lighting and quieter music.
“I’m either in for a big reward, or I’m in big trouble, which is it?” he asks.
“What’s up with all the touching?”
Finn reels back, eyes wide. “What?”
“The touching.”
He looks around as if the answer to my question will be somewhere in this corridor. “I’m sorry, did you not want me to touch you? I thought we needed to be a couple.”
“I’m not talking about the kisses on the cheek or the hands on my back. I’m talking about the hand on my thigh or the kisses against my neck.”
“What about them?”
“No one else can see them!”
He slowly nods, my current predicament finally settling into his brain. “I know no one else can see them.”
“So, then why the fuck are you doing it?”
“Cherry, I was under the impression that you understood me when I said that we need to act like a couple whether people can see us or not.”
“But—”
“And correct me if I’m wrong, but, last I checked, you haven’t been complaining nor asking me to stop.
All you ever have to do is tell me to stop and I will stop.
One time, that’s all it will take.” He takes a step forward.
“When it comes to this kind of stuff, I go off of your reactions, and the way you’ve been acting, Cherry, is on par with my behavior. ”
He takes a step forward again and my feet drag me back. He repeats the action, and so do I, until the next thing I know, my back is against the cold brick wall behind me.
“Last I checked, your reactions were showing you to be very interested. Did I read you wrong, Cherry? Do you want me to stop?”
God, no. I don’t want it to stop. All evening, I’ve only been able to think about the fact that I want more. More touching, more whispering, more of him. My vicious head shake shows exactly that.
He closes what little distance is left between us, not even a soundwave between us. Hands begin a light trail up my sides. My stomach clenches at the contact, each subtle movement so light and yet having the most cataclysmic of reactions.
I shake my head.
“Words, Cherry.”
I shake my head again, but this time it’s directed at his request. How can I talk when my words can’t be trusted?
He leans back, putting some distance between us that has a groan of protest threatening to spill from my lips. He’s smirking at me, as if the sound didn’t even need to come out for him to know how desperate I am for him to stay close to me.
“If you don’t use your words, then I’m not doing anything, my love.”
Screw that.
I lunge at him with a desperation I’ve only read about in novels like the one I’m writing.
At first, he’s shocked, remaining frozen and rigid until reality hits him, and then he snaps.
From then on, we’re all tongues and lips and teeth.
Finn kisses like a man on death row, as if it’s the last thing he’s ever going to get to do and so he’s determined to do it right.
And he gets it so goddamn right.
Finn’s hand slides up to gently wrap around my neck. The possessiveness feels warm against my skin and it travels from where his hand rests, right down to my pussy. He nips at my bottom lip, playful yet provocative.
I place my hand over his. “More,” I plead, and with a smile his grip tightens.
“So naughty, Cherry,” he mumbles against my neck. He lets his other hand wander, sinking down to the curve of my ass and further until he’s grabbing a handful of my body. “I wonder just how naughty you can be.”
“Naughty enough to tell you to shut up and put either your fingers or mouth to better use.” Our lips collide just as a low groan leaves Finn’s mouth, rumbling against mine and causing my whole body to vibrate.
My dress gives him easy access, the flowy and short material barely offering any sort of resistance at all. Fingers glide over the soaked material of my thong; an entire night of the effects of Finn’s teasing right there for him to feel.
Finn rests his head in the crook of my neck, another groan filling the corridor. “God, I hope you soak my fingers as much as you’ve soaked these panties.”
I hope so, too, because I deserve an orgasm worthy of royalty for how much I’ve suffered tonight.
The most pathetic smirk stretches my lips as I attempt to say, “Only way to make sure I do that is for you to be good at your job.”
His fingers brush against me, so light and teasing that I jump against the wall. “Don’t you worry, Cherry. I will be.”
Cocky son of a bitch.
His mouth finds mine, once more resuming his absolute takeover of my mouth and body.
The fact that Finn can go from sweet and sensitive to this is dizzying, but I’m definitely not complaining.
I like the polar opposites, the surprises, the plot twists.
He’s exactly the kind of man I would write about in novels.
He maneuvers himself around my panties, the soaked fabric made immediately redundant the moment his skin meets mine.
The small bundle of nerves right there at the apex is showed the utmost respect with its mere acknowledgment.
Most men wouldn’t even make it that far.
But Finn locates it instantly, as if he’s reached for my clit a hundred times.
The cold brick ironically adds another layer of heat to my body, the buildup of sensations making me utterly useless. My breath comes out in pants: heavy and full of lust.