Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“Just because you had a shitty day doesn’t mean you have to act jealous that mine was good,” I told him. “I had a great time with Thomas. We grabbed some dinner and ice cream. But we aren’t fucking.”
For the first time all night, Finn’s expression softened for a moment. “Why not?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Why does it matter? He’s a great guy, but I don’t think he wants to fuck.”
“You’re kidding,” Finn said.
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because why wouldn’t he want to fuck you?” Finn asked, his brow knitting again.
I had to laugh. “Not every gay guy wants to fuck me, Finn.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Even the first night you got back to Bestens, you were asking if there were any eligible gay guys around here. Thomas should be perfect for you.”
“Between you and my mother, I swear you guys already had a whole life planned out for me and Thomas before we’d even gotten to know each other. Jesus Christ.”
“I’m sorry,” Finn said. “Still think he wants your ass, though.”
I crossed over toward the big bay window that was in Finn’s small dining area. The window was open, and a cool breeze from the backyard was blowing in. I stood there, gazing over his yard, looking at the little glowing lantern lights along the lawn.
“I feel like I need to start over,” I said. “Even though I’ve only been in Tennessee for a few weeks.”
Something in me was breaking down.
I felt my defenses lowering, like a gate finally opening up inside me.
“I need to start over, too,” Finn said.
I shook my head. “I don’t want the only kiss I get this year to be from you,” I told him, turning to face him.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“A sympathy kiss? Only after Aaron was a dick to me in the bar?” I said.
“Wasn’t a sympathy kiss,” Finn said. “I wanted to do it.”
“You didn’t want it,” I said, waving a hand through the air. “Not in the way I’m talking about.”
Finn was suddenly glaring daggers at me. He stepped in close to me, giving me a little shove on the waist.
It was nothing like the type of shove that would lead us into a fight. Something had just tipped the scales between us, and we were in uncharted territory now, and I didn’t know what Finn might do.
“Say it again,” he told me. “I dare you.”
A warmth bloomed in my chest. I felt defiant, now that he was up in my face.
“You didn’t want it,” I repeated.
He was so close to me. His palm was hot on my waist, and my heart rate quickened as I let my gaze glance over his chest. I was aware of his physical presence.
He smelled like liquor and orange. It was kind of inviting, in a way I wished it wasn’t.
But I’d take his dare any day.
He was trying to prove a point, but I knew Finn had limits. He might have kissed me the other night. He might like fucking with me. But his possessive streak had to have an endpoint somewhere. If he wanted to find his limits with me, he was probably going to do it pretty fast.
“You think I didn’t want it?” he asked.
“You didn’t,” I repeated, searching his eyes. “That kiss was just a way for you to get me wrapped around your finger, just for that night, because you can’t handle—”
I didn’t finish my sentence. He was still glaring at me as he closed the gap between us, pulling me in by my waist. He leaned in and after a split second, I realized what he was doing.
His lips crushed against mine in a rough kiss and suddenly it was as if the whole fucking floor had dropped out from under me.
Possessive didn’t even begin to describe it.
His mouth on mine communicated only one thing, loud and clear: you’re mine. His hands moved across the front of my body, resting at my hips, gripping me hard. He kept his lips on mine as he moved me backward. I sat my ass down on the hardwood bench of the bay window, leaning back into the side of the alcove. I could still taste a trace of whiskey on his lips, mixed with the sweet, tart orange from the juice.
So sweet, mixed with a little bitter bite of liquor.
My cock hardened. The fucking traitor.
“Say it again,” he said as he broke off to take a breath. The warmth of his palms traveled lower, coming to rest on my bulge and making my cock ache. “You know it’s not true.”
“Fuck you,” I growled.
Truthfully, I was pissed off.
How many years had I spent being so sure that he was straight? Convincing myself that there was nothing I could be attracted to about Finn, because once I opened that box, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to put the lid back on it again?