Totally His Page 16

  Finn felt a huge knot tightening around his heart, and he accepted the complicated truth—he wanted to make everything okay for this woman. He wanted to take away all the past hurt and make sure nothing hurt her in the future. “I’m sorry that—”

  “I know that you can’t understand this, Finn. I’m glad you can’t. You’re lucky. But this is the reality of being around me: Frank will also be around. You just need to…keep your distance.”

  Yeah, well, that wasn’t going to happen. And not just because of the investigation.

  Finally she pressed her lips together, and then she pulled the door open and started down the hall.

  Finn watched her go. For about twenty seconds. Then he stalked after her. Because there were a lot of things between them. But distance was not going to be one of them.

  She was at her office door when he grabbed her upper arm and turned her. “Another thing about my family,” he said, holding her arm and getting so close that she had to tip her head back to look up at him, “we don’t let things go easily, and we can keep a fight going on all night.”

  “We’re fighting?”

  “We are,” he told her, “because you basically just called me an easy target. And I’m not an easy anything.” He stepped across her office threshold and then turned her back to the wall just inside her door.

  She looked him directly in the eye. “You’re not easy? You sure about that? Because you don’t know anything about theater and have no real interest in it, but you are now playing the lead in a play. And it’s in spite of the fact that your mom didn’t want you to do it and your brother—who you always take care of—wanted the part.”

  Yeah, he was easy. For her. But she knew that. Finn ran both hands down her arms to her wrists and slowly pulled them up the wall to pin them above her head. “And what do you think that means?” He wondered if she really knew how crazy he was acting.

  She licked her lips. “I think it means that you can be…rocked.”

  “Rocked?” He kind of liked that word. “Yeah. I definitely can. But—” he said, dropping his voice. “I want to be sure that you know who’s rocking me.”

  She took a deep breath and wet her lips. “I really hope it’s me.”

  She seemed perfectly fine with him restraining her hands. And that fired his blood. Not just the provocative position, but the fact that she trusted him so completely. That rocked him. As did the intensity with which he wanted to take care of her and make her laugh and how he wanted the right to touch her hair or the small of her back or her hand or the sweet curve of her ass whenever he wanted to. And the way he thought of her first thing in the morning and last thing at night and dozens of times throughout the day. And then there was the way he could feel his heart swell just watching her light up when someone got a scene exactly right and the way she looked at everyone with true affection and pride as they put the show together.

  She rocked him. To his very core. “Nobody but you, Feisty,” he said honestly.

  She swallowed. Probably because of the intensity in his tone. “I hope you don’t end up regretting it.”

  “How could I?”

  Doubt flickered through her eyes, but she said, “You don’t strike me as the type of guy who’s happy about finding yourself in situations you never would have expected to be in.”

  He held her wrists together with one hand and ran the other down her side to rest on her hip. “You would be right. Usually. But it’s funny—I’m pretty happy right now. And I didn’t expect any of this.” And he didn’t even mean this moment in which he was pressed up against her. He might be completely out of his comfort zone in this theater and with this show ahead of him, but he couldn’t imagine actually regretting any of it.

  “And apparently, you are able to put me up against the wall.”

  Now, rather than doubt or frustration, he saw pure heat in her eyes. “Huh, look at that.”

  He leaned in but right before he took her mouth, she whispered, “Are we still fighting?”

  “Nah,” he told her huskily as he slid his hands to her ass and lifted her. “I’m thinking of a different F word.”

  “Thank God,” she muttered as she wrapped her legs around him, and he groaned as he pressed into the hot, soft V between her thighs. He freaking loved the thin cotton leggings she was wearing and the loose top that allowed him to run his hand up underneath onto her bare skin. The skin that had been haunting him since he’d first seen it.

  He stroked his hand up her back, holding her easily with just the one hand on her butt. Of course, it helped that she was clinging to him as if her life depended on it. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and her thighs were tight around his hips.

  And then she was kissing him as if she’d never get enough. Lips and tongues, hot breaths, soft sighs and moans were all he could concentrate on for several minutes. Several of the best minutes of his life.

  She finally pulled back for air, and he trailed his lips down her neck as he squeezed her butt and splayed his other hand between her shoulder blades, holding her against him. He was already addicted to how she felt in his arms.

  “Finn,” she gasped as he sucked gently on her neck.

  “I’ve been thinking about all of this gorgeous skin since the night of the fire,” he told her.

  “I’ve been thinking about your hands since the night of the fire,” she said breathlessly.

  “Sounds like a damned good combination.” He pivoted and took the three steps to her desk. “Need some skin right now, Feisty.”

  “Yes.” As soon as he set her down, she stripped her shirt off over her head and tossed it.

  She was again in a sports bra, as on that first day here in her office, and he did what he’d obsessed about doing that day. He ran his hands down her back, stroking over the muscles on either side of her spine and then up the curve of her waist to her shoulders and to the back of her neck. He held her neck in both hands and took her mouth in a hot, deep kiss. He slid his tongue over hers while he tangled his fingers in her hair, tugging her head back and getting a low moan from her. He made love to her mouth for several delicious minutes, but eventually his hands itched to move.

  He ran his hands over her curves to the thighs that he’d touched when they’d first met and that he’d been dying to touch again ever since. She parted her knees further as his palms skimmed up the insides of her thighs, and her hands went to his fly, quickly undoing the button and zipper. She ran her palm over his length, and he groaned in relief even as it ratcheted his need higher. He wanted to pull her leggings off, push his jeans to his knees, and thrust. But he also wanted to take this slow.

  Sophie was not feeling the slow idea, though. She pulled back and got her sports bra off, then tossed it toward her punching bag. “Touch me, Finn.” She took his hands and lifted them to her breasts.

  Gladly. Her hard nipples pressed into his palms, and he ran his thumbs over them, eliciting a happy sigh from her. She ran her hands under his T-shirt and over his abs, then pushed the shirt up his torso. Finn yanked it over his head, then dipped his knees and took a nipple into his mouth. Her hand flew to his head, her fingers curling into his scalp. He licked and sucked until she was squirming. And begging.

  “Finn. Please.”

  “Talk to me, Feisty.” He straightened, his fingers going to the waistband of her leggings. “What do you want?”

  He knew exactly what she wanted, but he wanted to hear it.

  She wiggled as he tugged, pulling the leggings and her panties down her legs. “Take your pants off,” she said, her voice husky.

  But he couldn’t move.

  “Finn? Pants.”

  “Yep. For sure.” He sucked in a breath. “Just give me a second.”

  She looked up at him, but his eyes were locked on the gorgeous view of Sophia Birch, naked, legs spread on her desk.

  “Finn?”

  “Just one more second.”

  “It’s just that—”

  “Soph, I’ve been imagi
ning this for a while now. Just let me look.”

  “But you can do more than look.” She took his hand and pressed it between her legs.

  He sucked in a sharp breath at the wet heat against his palm. He squeezed his eyes shut as the reality of the moment came crashing in. He was going to make love to Sophie. And this was going to change everything.

  But a millisecond later, he realized that wasn’t true. It wasn’t going to change a thing. This was the path they’d been on since he’d taken that first step to follow her into this theater the night of the fire. This was simply…inevitable.

  “Damn, Sophie.”

  “Yeah,” she breathed out. Then she reached for him. She pushed his jeans and boxers out of the way but didn’t take time to just look as he had. She took his cock in hand, wrapping her fingers around him and letting out a little sigh as if just touching him was a huge relief.

  He knew the feeling. But Finn had to brace his other hand on the desk beside her hip to keep his knees from wobbling as pleasure streaked through him. When his world had righted again, at least mostly, he was seized by the need to make her wobble too. So he moved his fingers. He stroked over her wetness, circled her clit, then slipped inside her tight sheath.

  “Finn.” Her hand tightened around him.

  “Need you, Sophie.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you have to get there first.” That was nonnegotiable. The chance to pleasure Sophie fully was simply not something he would, or could, pass up.

  She shook her head. “Don’t want to wait.”

  “You want to wait for this.” He added a second finger between her legs as he kissed her again, his tongue stroking in rhythm with his fingers.

  She arched closer, kissing him back hungrily.

  His thumb circled over her clit, and she pulled back with a gasp. “Finn, please.”

  “Anything you want.”

  “I want you inside me.”

  “Oh, baby, I’m gonna be inside you.”

  That seemed to push her closer to the peak. She moaned and tightened around his fingers. Finn grinned. He leaned in and put his mouth against her ear. “I’m going to be buried deep when you come next time, Feisty,” he said huskily. “But this first time, I want to feel you come all over my fingers. Then I’m gonna lick them clean while you stroke me right to the edge.”

  Her moan was louder, and she clenched around his fingers again.

  “That’s right, sweet Sophie. I’m going to hold these gorgeous hips I’ve been fantasizing about while I thrust deep, and you’re going to think about that every time I get you up against that wall onstage. Every night when the show is over your panties are going to be wet and you’re going to be strung tight.” He stroked her faster, loving the way her breathing was becoming ragged and her fingers were gripping his arm. “And if you’re really sweet, I’ll bring you in here after you take your bows and take care of you.”

  Her fingers dug into his forearm and she gasped again and Finn knew he had her.

  “And every time you sit down at this desk or meditate on this floor or kick the hell out of that punching bag, you’re going to think about how I made you call out my name with just my fingers before taking you with my cock.”

  And that did it. Sophie shot over the edge with a cry, squeezing his fingers tightly.

  He let the ripples fade and then lifted his hand to his mouth and did what he’d promised. He kept his eyes locked on hers as he sucked her sweetness from his fingers. Her eyes were wide, but she did her part too, stroking him firmly until he had to grasp her wrist to stop the exquisite pressure. “Now, Soph.”

  “God, yes.” She wiggled as he reached for the condom he had in his wallet. He shoved his jeans and boxers out of the way and rolled it on and then slid his hands under Sophie’s butt and pulled her to the edge of the desk.

  She wrapped her legs around him, her hands on his biceps. He looked into her eyes. “You ready?”

  “You can’t do what you just did and not know the answer to that question.” She dug her heels into his ass, urging him forward.

  And with a short huff of laughter, he thrust deep. They both groaned, and his body insisted he move immediately. The friction, the heat, the feel of her holding on to him as if he were her lifeline, the gorgeous sounds she made, the look in her eyes—Finn took it all in, and it seemed to build quickly into one blazingly bright ball of pleasure and ache and want and contentment all at the same time. But there was no pausing, no relishing. He had to go faster. He had to go harder. And Sophie was right with him.

  Only a few delicious minutes later, she gasped, “Finn, yes!”

  “Let go for me, Soph.”

  “I’m so close. So close,” she panted.

  And then satisfaction ripped through him as her second orgasm hit and she tightened around him as she called out his name.

  He leaned into her, buried his face in her neck, and let go too, his own climax thundering through him as he clutched her close. He breathed deeply, taking in her scent with each inhale, letting the details—like how soft her hair was against his cheek, how she was still holding him tightly, how she fit perfectly against him—sink in. How he never wanted to be anywhere but right here. How he’d just had a deep, intense orgasm and wanted her all over again. How he’d never get enough of her.

  How he wished they were in a bed where he could pull the comforter up over them, fold her in his arms, and talk with her while he let his hands wander all over this body that he wanted to memorize from head to toe. How he wanted to say sweet things like how gorgeous she was and how lucky he felt that she’d let him close like this. Close was hard for her. This was not sex-only dating, and he knew she knew that. And he wanted to eat ice cream in bed with her. He wanted to read out loud to her. In bed. And he wanted to talk dirty to her. In bed. In the shower. In the kitchen. In his truck. There were so many dirty things he wanted to say to her, do to her, hear from her.

  Yeah, he really wished they were in a bed.

  Finn finally pulled back, overwhelmed by all those thoughts and yet wanting to dive right into all of them. “Sophie—”

  But just then there was a loud thump, a clatter, and then voices in the outer lobby.

  No. He closed his eyes and swore.

  “Sounds like Rob and Chase and the others came to do some of the painting tonight,” Sophie said.

  Yeah, that’s what it sounded like. He sighed. “Great.”

  And Sophie started to giggle. The giggles quickly turned to outright laughter, and then she snorted.

  He looked down at her, fighting his own smile. “Go ahead and say it.” He’d been intent on getting to the costume shop when he’d thought Frank had broken in, so…

  Happiness shining in her eyes, Sophie said, “You really should have locked the front door.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Not arson. Electric.

  Finn read the text from Chuck as he made his way down the sidewalk to his family’s pub a week later.

  So that was that.

  They could now get to work repairing the wall, and Finn could stop worrying about Frank. What a relief. But Finn had to admit that he didn’t really feel relieved.

  Had he wanted Frank to be guilty? Why? So Finn could lock him up and keep him away from Sophie?

  Well, that was a little disturbing. And not out of the realm of possibility.

  He just didn’t like Frank. He didn’t like that Frank made Sophie unhappy. And Finn probably liked her too much.

  And he definitely needed a beer. Or five.

  He hadn’t seen Frank again since the night at the theater. He hadn’t seen Sophie alone again since then either. It had been a week since they’d had sex in her office, and he was definitely on edge because of it. Spending time with her, kissing and touching her onstage for an audience, but not having a chance to do any of it privately, was making him nuts. But the entire cast had been working late, several of the guys sticking around to help build sets, Sophie’s friends coming in to
work on costumes and props, and everyone busting their butts to learn their lines. And Angie wanted to be a part of any one-on-one rehearsals he and Sophie needed. The show wasn’t far off, and they weren’t really ready. They were done so late at night that he wouldn’t have asked if he could take Sophie home—and stay—even if his mother hadn’t been there, listening in seemingly constantly.

  Finn shoved the door to Kelly’s Pub open. He wasn’t going to see Sophie at all tonight. Sophie’s friends had apparently insisted she needed a night away from the theater—and a few margaritas.

  He did hope to maybe get some drunk texts from her later. Maybe even an invitation to come over. But he also knew that Maya and Kiera were Sophie’s family, and he, of all people, knew the importance of time with family.

  “Finn.”

  “Hey, Jamie,” Finn greeted his cousin. Jamie was behind the bar, drying pint glasses, looking every bit the Irish pub owner. His red hair and green eyes, quick smile, and quicker temper were almost cliché.

  “Burger?” Jamie asked.

  As if he needed to ask. Finn always wanted a burger. “Extra fries.”

  Finn slid up onto one of the bar stools. He stopped in at Kelly’s Pub at least twice a week. There was great food and great beer, and he liked 90 percent of the people who hung out here. And he was related to 80 percent of that 90 percent. But even if the food had sucked, he would have shown his face at Kelly’s regularly because if he didn’t someone would be checking up on him.

  It was how the family kept tabs on one another in between huge family get-togethers. Which happened at least once a month. So it was all ridiculous. But if he stopped at the pub, he could have one of the best burgers in Boston, and he could avoid multiple phone calls and having random aunts and cousins show up on his doorstep to check on him.