Totally His Page 22

  “Really? Without you?”

  “I know it won’t be as good without me,” he said with a grin. “But they’re still pretty cool even when I’m not around.”

  She smiled. “I’d actually like to stay for a while.”

  “Finn! Move your ass!” Tripp bellowed from the front.

  Finn grabbed Sophie’s hand and tugged her back into the bar. He turned her back over to Chloe and Hannah and then said to his brother, “Take her to Mom’s when she’s done here tonight.”

  Colin nodded. “You got it.”

  “Your mom?” Sophie looked worried.

  “Yes,” Finn said. “She’ll take care of you.”

  “But we fought,” Sophie reminded him.

  God, if it was the last thing he did, he was going to show her what having a real family meant. “Yes. But now you need her. That’s all that matters.”

  She gave him a little nod. “Okay.”

  “I’ve got her,” Colin promised.

  He clapped Colin on the shoulder. “Thanks.”

  “Finn!”

  Then he headed for the door with Tripp. “Swear to God, man. I’m cock-blocking you the next chance I get.”

  * * *

  Sophie rolled over, trying to dodge the sunbeam that seemed intent on waking her up far earlier than she wanted to be awakened. Copious amounts of Irish cream plus yelling and cheering during trivia plus a three a.m. bedtime were not turning out to have been a fabulous combination of decisions.

  She scooted down in the bed, trying to get out of the shaft of morning sunlight, but her feet soon touched the footboard and the sun was still on her face. She pulled the comforter over her head with a groan.

  Then frowned.

  Her bed didn’t have a footboard. And the sun didn’t come into her room in the morning. And her comforter didn’t smell like this.

  She tossed the cover back and looked around. This was not her room. She sat up quickly and regretted the move immediately. Her head swam and pounded. Though it wasn’t as bad as she would have expected. She spotted the sports drink on the bedside table beside a bottle of ibuprofen and a note. She couldn’t make out the words from here, but she recognized the handwriting.

  She knew exactly where she was and why she didn’t feel worse. Angie had insisted she down two glasses of water, ibuprofen, and a multivitamin last night before she’d come to bed.

  Sophie was in Finn’s old bedroom at Angie’s house. Colin had brought her here, and Angie had taken her into the kitchen, plied her with hangover remedies, and then brought her upstairs, there to help her change into one of Finn’s old T-shirts and put her to bed.

  Sophie remembered apologizing to Angie and telling her how much she loved her, and then Angie had said the best thing ever: “I know, sweetie.”

  Sophie pulled her legs up and dropped her head to her knees.

  She was in deep. Really, really deep. Every plan she’d made to not get close to the Kellys, to not risk hurting Angie, to keep Frank away from the people she cared about…to not fall for Finn…had all been blown to hell.

  Truthfully, the not-falling-for-Finn thing had been blown to hell a while ago. But the rest of it—she’d really thought she’d been doing okay. Except for the stuff Frank kept messing with. And the fact that every time Colin or Ian or Tripp enjoyed himself during rehearsal or brought cookies in from one of their aunts, Sophie found herself loving them all more. Okay, she hadn’t been doing very well with any of it.

  Sophie sighed and reached for the Gatorade, painkillers, and note. She couldn’t help it, waking up here felt good. She was in for a huge heartbreak. But there was no avoiding it now. Maybe she should just enjoy it while it lasted.

  Angie’s note told her that she’d had to head over to Sonya’s house for a little bit but to help herself to anything in the kitchen. She recommended eggs and toast, and Sophie smiled, thinking that Angie probably had as much experience with hangovers that had originated in an Irish pub as she did with anything else. Sophie took a deep, contented breath. Not only had Angie taken her in last night, but she didn’t feel that she needed to stick around and play hostess for Sophie. She didn’t feel like a guest. She felt like part of the family. And that was enough to make tears well up.

  Sophie swallowed three ibuprofen and washed them down with the fruity sports drink. Then she got out of bed and started for the bathroom. But she took her time getting there, studying everything in the room that had been Finn’s while he was growing up. There were the things she would have expected—CDs, books, baseball and football cards. Then there were the things that made her smile—like the collection of plastic badges he’d evidently used to play policeman, the certificate of commendation for community service from the mayor, the photographs of him with his brother and cousins. And then there were the things that made her heart ache—the photo of him and his dad, with Tommy in full uniform, grinning and holding a young Finn who wore his father’s hat; the certificate of commendation with his father’s name on it for service above and beyond the call of duty; the photo of Angie, Tommy, Finn, and Colin, clearly not long before Tommy was killed; and the photo of the honor guard with Tommy’s casket.

  Sophie ran a finger over the photo of Finn with his family, and she acknowledged the fact that she’d never stood a chance of resisting falling in love with him.

  That complicated her life immensely. She wasn’t going to handle losing them all well when it was over. It seemed that maybe she and Angie could sustain their friendship, but she was going to have to insist they go back to the no-family rule once the play was finished. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle hearing about Finn even in casual conversation.

  She brought the neck of his shirt up and took a deep breath. For now she was going to wallow in it all. It seemed to her that the Kelly family had enough laughter and love that maybe even a few weeks in the midst of it could stay with her for a while afterward.

  She made her way into the bathroom, found towels, and helped herself to soap and shampoo without thinking anything of it. She felt perfectly comfortable making herself at home, and by the time she stepped out of the shower, she was feeling good. Physically and mentally.

  She combed out her hair, used the toothbrush that Angie had laid out with another little note—“For you”—and then slipped Finn’s shirt back on to pad back across the hardwood floor into the hall. Her foot had just hit the carpet of his bedroom when she heard the sound of something metal hitting the floor. She turned to find Finn at the top of the stairs. He had a plate in one hand, a cup in the other, and a fork at his feet.

  She couldn’t believe how happy she was to see him. She was always happy to see him, but she felt as if last night had opened up a part of her she’d been desperately trying to hold shut. The part of her that would admit how happy she was and would even let it show.

  “Morning,” she said, with a big grin.

  Finn looked like he was in pain. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

  She looked down. “Yeah. It’s what I slept in, and I didn’t take my clothes into the bathroom with me.”

  Sophie watched him swallow hard. “You slept in my shirt.” His eyes went to the room behind her. “In my room.”

  She put her hands on her hips, loving how discombobulated he seemed. “Yep.”

  The look in his eyes was hot and possessive as he took a step toward her…and kicked the fork across the floor. He looked down at the plate in his hands. “I made you eggs and toast. And coffee,” he said.

  She smiled. “Thanks. That sounds exactly like the second thing I need right now.”

  “What’s the first?”

  Sophie knew he liked her spunky side, which was a good thing. Because she was feeling very spunky this morning. She pulled his shirt off over her head. “You,” she said simply.

  Then she turned and walked into his bedroom.

  She felt him stalking up behind her and grinned. She heard the clatter of the plate on a table as she headed for the bed, and then
he was there, right behind her, his hands on her hips, drawing her back against him.

  He took her wrists and brought her arms up, her hands behind his neck. She linked her fingers together, exposing her body to his touch. Finn ran his hands down her sides to her hips, squeezed gently, and then moved around to her stomach. One big palm covered her belly and pressed her against his erection while the other slid up her side, over her shoulder, and to the back of her head. He sank his fingers into her hair and then made a fist and tugged, tipping her head back to his shoulder. Sophie couldn’t help her moan.

  “These weren’t the sheets I was talking about being tangled up in last night,” he said huskily against the side of her neck, “but they will totally work.”

  “Finn,” she said softly. She couldn’t manage any more than that, but it didn’t seem to matter. His hands cupped her breasts, her nipples between his fingers. He squeezed and tugged while kissing and sucking gently on her neck, until she was squirming against him.

  “Need you, Soph,” he said gruffly.

  “Yes. Please.”

  “Put your foot up on the mattress.”

  She did, recognizing that she would do anything this man asked of her. He dropped a hand to her knee and pressed, making her leg fall open further. His other hand slipped down the front of her body until his big, hot hand was cupping her. Sophie whimpered slightly and started to move her hands.

  “Let me,” he ordered, his voice gravelly against her ear.

  Let him touch her, pleasure her, have full access to her body to do anything he wanted? Yes, please.

  He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her, and she realized she’d said it out loud.

  She gripped the back of his neck with her hands and let her eyes slide shut, surrendering herself to whatever Finn was going to do to her.

  He returned one hand to her breast, playing with her nipple and making her inner muscles clench. His other hand set about driving her out of her mind while barely doing anything. He traced his finger along the sensitive skin between her pelvis and thigh, teasing her, making her ache for more. Then he moved to the outer lip of her sex, making her writhe to get closer to the tempting touch. He finally dragged the pad of his finger over her center, but with a light touch that only made her moan in frustration. Then he switched hands, tracing that side of her body—her inner thigh, the delicate area just outside where she most wanted and needed him, the almost-there spot next to her clit, and then another light stroke over the center.

  “Finn,” she begged. “More.”

  “I’m just learning you,” he told her. “I want to know every inch of you.”

  “There are some inches feeling very neglected.”

  He laughed lightly. “Well, I intend to spend lots of time there, so that won’t last.”

  He brushed over her clit, and she gasped. “Yes. There.”

  “Oh yeah, lots of time,” he promised sexily, his voice low and right against her neck.

  He increased his pressure on her sweet spot, making her knees weak. But he had her held tightly to his body, and as he circled and pressed, she let the sensations take over. That was almost enough, and given a little more time, she knew that she would be soaring. But then he did the gentlemanly thing, having gotten a woman wound up to this point, and shifted to glide his finger into her.

  Sophie moaned and let her head fall forward. “Yesss.” The word hissed out between her teeth, and she moved against his hand.

  “Damn, you are sweet,” he said thickly. He added his thumb against her clit, and as he stroked her, Sophie felt the pending orgasm gathering quickly. “And soft.”

  And then he stopped.

  “Finn!” she gasped.

  “Oh, I’m not done with you.”

  “So you are going to finish something here?” In her defense, her tone was colored by horniness and frustration.

  He laughed. “Oh, honey, I’m so going to finish something here.”

  “When?” Sophie realized she was on the verge of begging. And she was completely okay with that.

  “Soon, ninja warrior,” he said. “Very soon.”

  “You’ve touched pretty much everything,” she said as his finger ran over her mound, tracing back and forth from one hip bone to the other.

  “I have,” he agreed. “With my finger.”

  “But I—” Understanding dawned. “Oh.”

  He laughed again and ran his whole hand up over her belly to her breasts again. He didn’t stay there as long as she wanted him to either. He took her arms from around his neck and turned her to face him. She took in the look in his eyes as he studied her, lingering on her eyes, and suddenly she felt something that went so beyond horny and frustrated…she felt a need like she’d never imagined. And not just for his body.

  Before she could fully process that thought and what it meant, Finn lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. This was so different from the first time at the theater. That had been hot and fast and incredibly sexy. But this was…more. Terrifyingly more. Like she would never be satisfied with anything less than this ever again. And they hadn’t even gotten to the really good stuff. Was it possible she’d never be satisfied with anyone ever touching her besides Finn? If so, she was really, really screwed. In the not-at-all-good way.

  The kiss also didn’t last as long as she would have preferred, but as he pulled back, Finn pivoted to sit on the bed, her between his knees, and she forgot about worrying or analyzing or even thinking. She was just going to feel.

  “Shirt,” she said, managing only the one word.

  Thankfully, Finn understood. He gripped the back of his shirt and yanked it off over his head. She spread her hands on his shoulders and ran them down his arms and then over his chest. She understood the temptation of just wanting to touch. She could spend hours just running her hands and lips over his body. But there was an ache in her that said that touching and kissing were never going to really be enough.

  “Pants,” she said next.

  But he shook his head on that one. “Not yet.”

  “Finn, I—”

  “Come here.” He gripped her butt in his hands and brought her forward into his lap. But that wasn’t what he had been talking about. He lay back, bringing her up his body until her knees straddled his shoulders. And then he went about really touching her. With his fingers, his lips, his tongue, on all the places she needed him most. Within minutes she was calling out his name and soaring up and over an intense orgasm that seemed to affect every single cell in her entire body.

  She had barely started to come down from it when he flipped her to her back and leaned over her.

  “You are, without a doubt, the sexiest, sweetest, feistiest, most amazing woman I’ve ever known.”

  And she almost had another orgasm right then and there. His words, the look in his eyes, the intensity of his tone, all told her that he meant that with everything in him.

  She clasped his face in her hands. “Make love to me, Finn.”

  She’d never been made love to, she knew that. She’d never had sex with a guy who actually got her. Who appreciated her, who saw things that she didn’t want him to see but who liked her in spite of them. Maybe even because of them. She knew that she was wounded and cynical, but Finn made her focus on the other stuff inside—the happiness, the hope, the way she could make other people feel. He made her want to focus on those things instead of all the things that could go wrong, the things that she needed to guard against, the risk of hurt and the idea of inevitable goodbyes. He made her want to wallow in the here and now, the idea of being cared for, of caring for other people and taking a risk because it could possibly, just maybe, turn out great.

  Finn kissed her hungrily and then sat back and shed his jeans and underwear, his actions jerky as he rushed. He kicked his clothes off the edge of the bed, and she reached for him, wrapping her hand around his cock and stroking him, relishing the way he shuddered at her touch. He braced himself with his forearms on either side of
her head, letting her stroke and squeeze, letting her run her hands over his abs and ass, but finally through gritted teeth he informed her, “Need inside you, Feisty.”

  She shifted and spread her legs, welcoming him between them. “Okay, but don’t lose my place.”

  “Your place?”

  “I’ve touched pretty much everything, but only with my fingers.”

  The heat in his gaze intensified even as he gave her a slow, sexy half smile. “Oh, I’ve got your place very saved.”

  She shivered, the emotions and desire in her making it impossible to lie still.

  He lifted a condom wrapper to his mouth and tore it open with his teeth, his eyes on hers the entire time, and then, impressively, rolled the protection on with only one hand. Then he positioned himself at her entrance and slowly pressed forward.

  Her back arched, and she automatically lifted her legs to link her ankles on his lower back. They groaned together as he slid slowly home. Slowly seemed to be the theme of the morning. He paused when he was as deep as he could get and then pulled out bit by bit, the friction intense and so good and yet not even close to enough.

  They kissed the same way—deep and slow—and their hands also caressed everywhere they could reach in long, unhurried strokes.

  The slow, steady, sweet pace lasted for another few minutes. But then Finn shifted and put a delicious pressure in a spot Sophie was pretty sure had never been touched before, and her body rejoiced, coiling tightly, squeezing him and sending heat and tingles shooting through her body.

  She arched her neck and tightened her legs around him. “Oh my God!”

  He paused. “Soph?”

  She reached down and grabbed his ass. “Don’t you dare stop. More. Please.”

  He laughed and then groaned as she flexed her inner muscles around him. “I’d love to make you beg a little more, but I don’t have it in me,” he told her gruffly.

  He thrust again, deep and hard, and Sophie felt the shock waves of pleasure clear to her toes. “Yes, like that. Again. Harder.”

  His jaw tightened, and she knew he was holding back. “We did hard. This was supposed to be sweet and slow,” he said through gritted teeth.