The Ones Who Got Away Read online

  “The lu—” He gave her a look, strain around his eyes. “Uh, I’d say that’s obvious.”

  She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. “So you’re trying to protect me.”

  He grabbed the remote to lower the volume and then scrubbed a hand over his jaw, wary. “Liv, I told you—”

  “That you have nothing to offer. That you’re leaving. That you don’t want to hurt me.” Her hand tightened around the doorjamb.

  His mouth was a grim line. “Yeah.”

  She took a breath, steeling herself, and grabbed what she’d set on a table by the doorway. She took the plate, walked to Finn, and set it on his lap. He glanced down in confusion, but the scent must’ve hit him before his eyes caught up.

  He made a sound in the back of his throat, his gaze jumping to hers.

  The smell of warm chocolate chip cookies wafted up between them. “I think we’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”

  “Liv…” A thousand concerns were in his tone. Concerns and something beneath that…yearning.

  “If you think it’s to protect my feelings, take that off your list of worries,” she said, her confidence building. “Sex doesn’t have to be that complicated. I’m not wired that way anyhow. It’s always been a strictly physical thing for me. Like eating a really good cookie.” She glanced down at the plate and then up at him again. “And I’m really tired of only smelling the cookies.”

  Finn stared at her, his face flickering in the TV light and his eyes dark and unreadable.

  “The things you want the most are the things you can’t have,” Liv said, her words soft. “I say if we want this summer to work, instead of ignoring it, why not take the power out of the forbidden thing? Indulge instead.”

  His throat worked, and he eyed the cookies. His silence made her shift on her feet, self-conscious.

  She forced a tight smile. “Or you can just tell me to leave you the hell alone and we can eat the cookies.”

  He shook his head, his fingers curling around his knees. “I don’t want to hurt you, Liv. Or walk away at the end of the summer and feel like I’ve used you. Because I have to leave. That’s not a question.”

  She looked out at the pouring rain. “It’s not using if we both get something out of it and know where the end is upfront.” She rubbed a chill from her arms. “I won’t fall in love with you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

  He jerked his head up at that, his face slack.

  She gave him a flippant smile, though her stomach felt tight. “I just want your cookies, Dorsey. I’m not in the market for more than that—from anyone.”

  “Livvy…”

  “But why don’t you sleep on it?” she said quickly. “This is a no-pressure situation. You won’t hurt my feelings. You won’t wound my ego. So if you need time, which it looks like you do, take it. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Before she could lose her nerve, she spun around and headed toward the screen door that led outside and to the pool house. She stepped out into the rain, thankful for the cold drops on her skin, and refused to look back. She’d said her piece. At least she’d had the nerve to do it. She could go to bed knowing that. Fear hadn’t won today. The girl who’d made that list was still in there somewhere. Even if she didn’t always make the wisest decisions, she had guts.

  That would have to be enough for her tonight.

  But when she was three steps from the pool house stairs and soaked to her skin, a hand wrapped around her arm and whirled her around.

  Finn stood there in the downpour, shirt already plastered to his chest and water tracking down his face.

  “You think that’s what I need? Time to decide if I want to touch you?” he asked, disbelief in his voice.

  The thunder rumbled above them as if to emphasize his point.

  “Well, I don’t know,” she shouted into the rain. “I don’t know what you need. You weren’t saying anything. And I just put it all out there and there were cookies and—”

  The next word never made it out because he grabbed her other arm and dragged her to him. His lips were on hers before she took her next breath. Hungry. Searching. Almost angry.

  He cursed between kisses—at her, at himself… She couldn’t tell. But then he was lifting her off her feet and carrying her up the stairs.

  The door to the pool house banged against the wall as Finn hauled Liv inside, her legs hooked around his waist and his mouth fused to hers. Neither of them caught more than a gulp of air between kisses on the way in. And the only words uttered had been, “Inside?” by him and “Yes” by her.

  She didn’t care if he was asking to go inside the pool house or inside her body because the answer to both was a resounding yes.

  Finn kicked the door shut behind them, both of them dripping water everywhere, and didn’t bother turning on a light. All the curtains were still open, the windows streaked with rain, as he carried her past the small living room and to the bed. He set her down at the foot and grabbed an extra blanket off the couch, draping it over the quilt so they wouldn’t soak everything through. Then he was back in front of her, invading her space in the best way.

  “I want to lick all this rain off you,” he said against her skin as he kissed her neck and guided her down to sit on the bed. “And then I want to get you messy again.”

  She groaned and grabbed for his shirt, wanting to feel him, wanting to get him naked as soon as damn possible, but he stilled her movements, gripping her wrists and pressing them down at her sides.

  “No. You asked for this, now you take it how I want to give it. I’m in no hurry.”

  The little promise was enough to send shivers through her that had nothing to do with her wet clothes. He went back to licking rivulets of rain off her throat and trailed a hand down her calf. He slipped off her sandals one by one and then grazed his teeth along her collarbone. She let out a soft moan, the feel of his mouth against her unbearably erotic. He’d always had a thing for her neck. She’d had to hide his little bites and marks from her parents after those illicit make-out sessions in high school. But she’d liked having those sexy mementos, even though she’d tease him mid-make-out with You’re going to leave evidence.

  He’d whisper. I know. I like seeing you in class and knowing my mark is on your skin. It drives me crazy. Makes me hard.

  To her virgin self, that tidbit had been about the hottest thought ever. It’d made her feel sexy and powerful. It’d made her want to take things further with him, even when she’d vowed to wait.

  But now she didn’t have to bank her desires or keep her line in the sand. There was no innocence to protect, no parents to obey, no tender teenage feelings involved. She could have Finn and enjoy the moment without guilt.

  He knelt on the floor in front of her, kissing down the hollow of her throat and holding her head in his hands to angle her just how he wanted her. She wanted to watch, to see him there between her knees, but the sensations had her eyes closing and her head tipping back in his hold.

  “God, Livvy,” he murmured against her skin, inhaling like he was trying to rein himself in. “Tell me you really want this. That this is real. Tell me I didn’t fall asleep during the movie and am lying in there with a hard-on, having a dirty dream.”

  She smiled. “I think I’ve made it clear that I want this. But no guarantees on the sleeping thing.”

  “Don’t wake me until this is done then.”

  He unbuttoned the first two buttons on her shirt and slipped his hand inside her bra, cupping her breast with his big, warm hand. He grazed a thumb over her nipple, and needy awareness rushed straight downward. She arched into the touch and gasped, surprised by the intensity of the sensation.

  “Fuck, you’re sensitive,” he said, illicit appreciation in his voice as he traced his thumb over again and then pinched lightly. “And I love your breasts. Love how
heavy and hot you are in my hand.”

  She sucked in a breath at the sharp need and looked down at him again, gripping his shoulders, needing something to ground her. “I think you’re turning me into my teenage self. I’m not usually so easily… I… Oh.”

  She couldn’t finish her sentence because he slipped the cup of her bra beneath her breast and licked. Hot mouth on chilled skin. Her feet arched, her toes pressing into the floor.

  He groaned, his breath tickling her. “The feeling’s mutual. I feel like I’m going to have the staying power of a fifteen-year-old. Thank God for the cold rain. Otherwise, I would’ve come already.”

  She laughed, but the sound died when he put his lips fully on her and sucked. She may as well have had a wire attached to every erogenous zone with the way her body lit up—a circuit board of oh, hell yes. Her nails dug into his shoulders again, his wet shirt bunching beneath her fingers.

  “But that just means I’ll have to take my time with you first,” he said, his voice dark with sensual promise as he rubbed his scruff against her breast. “Taste every little bit of you. I’m really disappointed about that.”

  “Me too,” she whispered. “So sad.”

  She could almost hear him smile. He quickly relieved her of her shirt and bra, dropping them into a wet heap on the floor, and then eased her back onto the bed. She lay down and opened her eyes just in time to see the way he was staring at her. His green eyes had gone dark and dangerous. Hungry. He reached for her shorts and tugged them off, leaving her in just her plain, black cotton panties, which had mostly survived the rain but were damp for other reasons. He trailed his hand over her sternum, his gaze following his fingers down her body until they paused at the band of her underwear. He lifted his head to meet her eyes. “You’re so damn gorgeous. You’re testing all my willpower right now.”

  She licked her lips. “You don’t have to go slow. I know how long it’s been.”

  His jaw flexed, warning flashing in his eyes. “I’m not an animal. I can control myself.”

  She believed him, but she also saw the strain there, the fierce want. She encircled his wrist with her hand, boldly guiding it downward, until his fingers slipped beneath the band of her panties and he could feel the state of her arousal. “Maybe I can’t.”

  Something broke in his expression, revealing a feral edge as his fingers curled against her most sensitive place, finding her slick and wanting and burning hot.

  “Liv,” he said through gritted teeth.

  It was a warning. She’d poked a starved lion. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing, but she knew down to her bones that he wouldn’t harm her—and maybe part of her wanted the ferocity. There was something unbearably erotic about seeing such a stoic man lose his composure simply from touching her.

  “You can do what you want, but I promise I’ll tell you to stop if I want you to stop,” she said, trying to keep her words steady despite his exploring fingers. “We’ve got all summer for slow.”

  His gaze locked on hers, the war in his head obvious in the lines of strain on his face, but in a flash, he slipped his hand from her panties and then ripped them off.

  She gasped in surprise as she felt the fabric give way. She’d always wondered if panties could actually be ripped off. They seemed to be made of durable stuff. But this pair tore away like they were made of wrapping paper. He tossed them aside and then reached back with one hand and yanked off his T-shirt, keeping his eyes on her the whole time and giving her quite the view.

  She took her own fill as he discarded his shirt. She’d seen him shirtless the night in the hotel room but had forced herself not to stare. Now she didn’t have to bother. Broad shoulders and a sculpted chest, the scar she now found comforting—along with a few other scars she’d have to ask about later—and a dusting of dark hair that trailed down to the waistband of his black pants. Masculine in all the best ways and beautifully built.

  He put his hands to his waistband, and she watched his battered fingers untie the drawstring. He didn’t have smooth hands like the guys she’d dated in the tech industry. Finn’s knuckles had been nicked and marred. Working hands. This was a guy who’d been through God knows what—football, police work, fights, life-or-death situations.

  But she lost the train of thought when he shucked the pants along with his boxer briefs. Good Lord, the guy was sexy everywhere. She’d felt him through his pants a few times in high school during those steamy make-out sessions, had been fascinated and intimidated by what she’d found at the time. Seeing him now, though, made her body clench in response. At the shameless arousal. At the promise of pleasure. He took himself in his hand and stroked. “I like that look you’re giving me. Like you’re desperate for me to fuck you.”

  She smirked. “Are you calling me a slut?”

  He climbed onto the bed, looming over her but not yet touching her. “I’m calling you sexy. And bold.” He trailed the back of his hand over her breast, sending shivers through her, and then found the needy place between her legs and circled a finger over her clit, making her whimper. “And if being a slut means asking for what you want and not feeling bad about it, then I hope you are one. I hope you are selfishly using me right now to get off.”

  She laughed, breathless from his clever fingers. “Oh, I’m completely doing that. Have you seen you?”

  His expression went old-school Finn—all cocky and sly. “I have. I’ve been in an exclusive relationship with myself for a few years. I’m amazing in bed.”

  “So I’ve heard. This morning, in fact. Glad I get to join in this time.”

  Instead of teasing back, he groaned—and not in a good way. His let’s-do-this face switched to a scowl. “Shit.”

  Her muscles tensed. “What?”

  “Condoms.” He moved his hand away. “Dammit. I haven’t done this in so long, I don’t have any. I didn’t think—”

  “My purse is on the side table. I have one.”

  Relief flooded his features. “Thank God. You are the best girl ever.”

  She laughed, and he rolled over to grab her purse. She took it from him and fished out a packet, tossed it on the bed, and then dropped her purse to the floor.

  He kissed her. “I love a woman who’s prepared. I might’ve had a good cry if we’d had to stop.”

  She grinned. “Crisis averted.”

  “Now, where were we?” He slipped his hand between her legs again. “Oh, I remember. Right here.”

  She thought he was going to roll on the condom and go for it, but instead, he took his time working her up even more, bringing every nerve alive, making her writhe. Then, when she thought she was going to resort to begging or threats, he shifted down the bed, put his hands on the backs of her thighs, and opened her like a naughty book. Before she could even process what was happening, his mouth was on her and her thoughts blinked out of existence.

  Oh. God.

  The sound that escaped her throat was borderline embarrassing, but she didn’t have it in her to care. Finn’s scruff was brushing against her inner thighs, and his tongue stroked over her like he’d been waiting all his life to taste that particular delicacy. Her head thumped onto the pillow, and her hands went to his hair.

  He grunted at her rough grip, but she didn’t let go. If she did, she might break into a thousand pieces. The man might have been off the market for a long time, but his skills certainly hadn’t suffered. He had radar for her hot spots—or maybe that was her tightening her hold on him when he hit pay dirt—but either way, it was working for her. Slow and sensual, like he was doing it for his benefit more than hers—like this was a seven-course meal and not just the appetizer.

  That was probably the hottest part of all. This wasn’t a serviceable I’ll scratch your itch first. This was I live for making a woman try to crush my skull with her thighs because I’m driving her out of her mind with my tongue.

  She was de
termined to enjoy every second of it, to not go over too fast, but when he slid two fingers inside her and dragged his tongue over her clit, light exploded behind her eyes, catching her off guard with the magnitude of sensation. She cried out and nearly levitated off the bed, her hands going from his head to the sheets and gripping hard.

  He made a belly-deep sound of pleasure, the vibration of it against her sex driving her even higher, and she almost launched him right off her. But he wasn’t having any of that. He placed a palm on her hip, pinning her in place, and shifted as his fingers continued to stroke her and push her higher.

  “Finn, I can’t… Please.” The plea slipped out, but she wasn’t sure what she was begging for—a reprieve, more, both.

  Her eyes blinked open, and she found him watching her—watching her come, watching his fingers work, watching her fall apart. Then his gaze rose to meet hers. Another wave of pleasure overtook her, but she couldn’t turn away. All the humor was gone from his eyes now. This was a man on a mission. A man who could tear her apart with one look.

  “Finn,” she begged again, but she let him see it. Let him see what he was doing to her. Her eyes fell shut, and she rode the wave of the orgasm, her body his to orchestrate and out of her control now. Surrendered. Fully and completely.

  Finally, when she was limp and melting back into the bed, he moved his hand away. But he swiped her inner thigh with the evidence of her arousal, and then followed the trail with his tongue, sending shivers to every part of her.

  “Still with me, Livvy?”

  She sighed. “So very with you.”

  “Tell me you want this.”

  She opened her eyes, finding him staring down at her, his jaw set, barely banked desire all over his face. That look said he’d die if she told him to stop. That look said he’d stop anyway.

  “I want you.”

  “Thank God.” He tore open the condom with quick fingers and rolled it on, his attention staying on her. “Tell me which position works best for you.”

  She blinked, her breath still coming in pants and her mind scattered. She’d never had a guy ask that before. They always just…did their thing unless she made a suggestion. “Hands and knees.”