by Isla Drake
“Thanks again,” I tell Claire.
She waves away my words with a smile. “No problem.”
“Be good, Liam.”
He replies with an automatic, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Be good, Finn,” Claire says, pointing a finger at him in mock severity.
He doesn’t answer but gives me a wink that brings more color to my cheeks, I grab his arm and pull him toward the door, Claire laughing behind us.
When we get to Finn’s truck, he points back toward the house, a wounded expression on his face.
“I think I’ve been replaced,” he says. “By a cartoon and my baby sister.”
I laugh, climbing into the passenger seat. “Don’t take it personally. Claire’s got five pounds of junk food in that bag. We never stood a chance.”
◆◆◆
Finn takes me to a little family-owned steakhouse about a half hour away. I’d half expected him to take me to Mack’s. While I love his brothers’ restaurant, I’m glad he chose somewhere we’re less likely to be recognized. It’s not that I care if someone sees us on a date. I just don’t want any interruptions. I’m not ready to explain anything to anyone. Not until Finn and I decide what this is ourselves.
The lighting is soft inside the restaurant and it lends a sense of privacy to each table, which I like. The place is elegant without being too upscale.
“I’ve never been here before,” Finn says, taking his seat across from me. “I’ve heard good things though. I hope this is okay.”
I smile. “It’s perfect.”
We spend the next few minutes studying the menu without much talking. Our server arrives with glasses of water and we order our drinks.
After he leaves, Finn and I go back to studying the menus. The silence between us borders on awkward, but it’s as though neither of us is ready to break it. Or maybe we’re not sure how. I’m just about to open my mouth to speak when I hear Finn let out a loud sigh. I look up from my menu to find him looking at me.
“What?”
He sets his menu down on the table and leans toward me across the table. “I need to say something.”
“Okay,” I say, wondering where this is going.
“I’m sorry,” he says, surprising me. I thought we were past this. I feel the heat of anger flare through me. If he apologizes one more time for what happened between us, I may scream. I open my mouth to tell him just that, but he holds up a hand to stall me.
“Wait,” he says, smiling. “Hear me out.” When I close my mouth, he goes on. “I am sorry, but not for the reason you think. I'm sorry that I did things out of order."
A rush of memories floods through me and I have to fight off a blush. I’m pretty certain he’d done everything in exactly the correct order the other night. At my look of confusion, he explains.
"I should have asked you on a date years ago.” His voice is low, and he doesn’t look away from my eyes. “I should have sent you flowers and told you how beautiful you are. How amazing and funny and smart and sexy you are. Because I’ve noticed all those things for years, Hannah.” My breath catches in my throat. I can’t see anything but sincerity in Finn’s eyes as he looks at me. I don’t know what to say to that, but Finn goes on, keeping me from forming a response.
His expression shifts to something darker, possessive. I’m reminded of the way he looked at me in his office before that first kiss.
“I should probably tell you that our first time shouldn't have been up against the wall in my office,” he says with a grin. “But I'm not sorry about that. I wish I’d never apologized for that, because I did not mean it. It was incredible and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
I feel my face heat this time and look around to make sure no one at a neighboring table heard Finn. His words take me back to that night in his office and I remember his mouth on me, his hands gripping my hips. I feel myself grow damp at the memory and shift a little in my seat.
Finn gives me a knowing look. "Everything okay?" He asks with a crooked grin.
I reach for my water glass, taking a deep drink of the cool liquid.
"Fine," I lie.
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. His thumb strokes over my palm, somehow igniting a fire inside me with that small touch.
"So, tonight," he says, his voice still low and sexy. "I want to fix that. I want to start over. Sort of." He smiles. "I want to romance you. Charm you. Flatter you. Show you just how sexy I find you. And maybe later, if I play my cards right, make you come again while you scream my name."
I suck in a shaky breath at his words and the picture they paint in my head. I can't deny that I want that too. I want it more than I can say. Still, part of me holds back.
I decide to address the most obvious obstacle. "What about work? I don't want whatever this is to interfere."
"Neither do I," he says immediately. "We're both adults. We can keep work and personal separate, I think."
I raise a brow. "Really? Because two nights ago, we screwed like bunnies in your office after a work function."
"Touché," he says, stifling a laugh. "I guess it's a work in progress."
We fall silent as we both consider everything we’ve said. I don't know if we can separate what's happening between us from our work, but I know I don't want to give him up. Not at work and not outside of it. Now that I've had a taste of what we can be together, I want more.
"Okay," I say. "Let's give it a try."
He smiles and opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up a hand.
"But," I say. "There are rules."
His eyes narrow. "I'm listening."
I hold up a finger. "Rule number one: No sex at work."
Finn's blue eyes smolder and I know he's thinking of the other night in his office again. Finally, he nods. "That's sensible."
"Rule number two," he says holding up two fingers. "No hard feelings. If things don't work out between us, we won't hold a grudge. You'll keep your job and I won't do anything to make things difficult for you."
Finn’s consideration is sweet. I’m the one with the most to lose if things go badly between us. He owns the business I work for. He’ll be fine. I’d be the one worried about losing my job if things don’t work out. I believe him though. He’s not the type of man to retaliate against an ex just because things didn’t work out. I nod my agreement.
“Rule three,” I say. “No cheating. If I’m with you, I don’t want to worry about some other woman showing up and accusing me of stealing her man.”
Finn doesn’t laugh as I intended. Instead, he regards me with a serious expression. “I’m not a cheater, Hannah. If I’m with you, no matter how serious or light this thing between us is, I’m with you. No one else.”
Unable to think of the right words, I just nod. Finn seems to sense that I’m uncomfortable. He smiles. “Same goes for you,” he says. “No boy toys sniffing around?”
I laugh, which I think was his intention. I shake my head. “Definitely not.”
“Good.” He leans back in his seat. “Rule four: honesty. I’m not saying we have to divulge our deepest, darkest secrets. But no lying.”
“Agreed. I hate liars,” I say.
“Okay,” Finn says. “Any other rules?”
I give it some thought before I say with complete seriousness, “No butt stuff.”
Finn barks out a laugh that draws the attention of several diners around us. I can’t help but giggle at his amusement. He’s so rarely this playful at work. Seeing this other side of him makes me want to bring it out more often. When he catches his breath, he’s still smiling, and my stomach does that flip that I used to find so annoying. For the first time, I don’t ignore it or try to push the feeling aside. Instead, I reach across the table to twine my fingers with his.
“I like that laugh,” I say. “You should do it more often.”
Finn looks away from my gaze, appearing almost embarrassed. It’s cute. I want to find more ways to make him blush.
The server r
eturns with our drinks and asks if we’re ready to order. Finn keeps his eyes on mine when he answers.
“I know what I want.”
He grins at me, showing off that dangerous dimple once again. I squeeze my thighs tighter together, trying not to be obvious. Finn turns to the server and casually orders a steak as though he didn’t just turn me into a puddle with a smile. I pull my eyes off him and look at the menu, not seeing any of the words. When the server turns to me for my order, I somehow manage to tell him my order in a somewhat normal voice. After he leaves, I kick Finn lightly under the table.
“Ow! What was that for?” He’s wearing a look of confusion, but I can see the humor in his eyes.
“You know.”
He shakes his head and sips from his water glass. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The rest of the dinner goes well. It turns out that dating Finn is surprisingly easy. He’s funny and smart and easy to talk to. I knew that before, but something about tonight feels different. He’s an amazing listener. Unlike some of my past dates, he doesn’t spend his time trying find a way to steer things back to himself. Instead, I find myself steering the conversation back to him so I can listen to him talk. I love learning more about him. It’s a strange revelation to realize that this man I’ve known for years is still so unknown to me. Now that I’ve given myself permission, I realize that I’m starving for more details about him. I want to know all there is to know about Finn and that’s a little scary.
Chapter Eighteen
Finn
By the time we finish dinner and I pay the check, it’s all I can do not to pull Hannah across the table and onto my lap. We’ve spent the last hour talking and laughing as we find out more about one another. I love talking to her. She’s open and honest and seems to be having a good time. I love the way her eyes light up when she laughs, the pride in her voice when she talks about her son. The longer we talk, the more she draws me in. I don’t know where things between us might lead, but I know that something about Hannah captivates me and I’m not going to deny it any longer. Occasionally, I’ll catch her looking at me with a hungry gaze and I know she’s wishing we were alone right now. She’s not the only one. By the time the server returns with my card, I’m thinking up excuses not to take her home yet.
I walk slowly back toward my truck—anything to keep her with me longer.
“I had a great time,” she says, looking suddenly nervous.
“Me too,” I say, meaning it.
We both reach for the door handle at the same time. When she turns to look at me, a smile on her face, I do what I’ve wanted to do all night. I kiss her. Hannah is surprised for only a second before she seems to melt against me. Her arms come up around my neck and she leans back against the truck. This is a much gentler kiss than anything we shared the other night. I take my time, exploring her mouth with mine, teasing her lips. It’s just as incredible as I remember. I feel like I could kiss her for days and not get tired of it. I cup her jaw with one hand, the other moving down to the curve of her waist.
“I have to tell you something,” I whisper, my lips trailing across the soft skin of her neck. “Because we did say we wanted honesty.”
“Right,” she whispers, breathless. “Rule number four.”
My teeth graze the tendon where her neck meets her shoulder. It’s a light caress with just enough bite for her to feel the sting. She sucks in a breath and a dark thrill runs through me. I move slightly, just enough so that my leg is between hers. I can feel the heat of her against my leg as she tries to press herself closer to me.
“Right now, all I want is to be buried inside you.” I move as I say the words, my leg rubbing against her core. Hannah lets out a little whimper and clutches at my shoulders.
“I want that too,” she whispers. “I want this.”
One of her hands slides down and she caresses the length of my cock through my pants. I groan and push my hips forward, pressing myself against that hand. I’m rock hard and I know it wouldn’t take much for Hannah to push me over the edge. Part of me is shocked. I’ve never seen this bold side of Hannah before. I like it. A car door slams nearby, and I hear voices speaking. The parking lot is dark, but it’s definitely not private. I take a reluctant step back. My body is no longer pressed against Hannah’s, but I don’t relinquish my hold on her. It’s as though now that I’ve given myself permission to touch her, I don’t want to stop. I tuck a stray curl behind her ear and watch her shiver at that small touch.
“We should go,” I say. “You probably need to get home.”
“Probably,” she whispers. “But I have a better idea. Get in.”
Once we’re back on the road, Hannah becomes the navigator, pointing out where I need to turn. I do as she says, paying more attention to her than to where we’re going. I know this area well, but everything looks different at night. When we pull to a stop in a gravel parking lot mostly surrounded by trees, it takes me a moment to realize where we are. There are no other cars parked in the lot and the single overhead light in one corner does little to illuminate the surrounding area. I glance at Hannah and notice a playful look in her eyes.
“Harper’s Pier?” She must hear the skepticism in my voice because she smiles and rolls her eyes.
“Come on,” she says, reaching for her door handle. “How long has it been since you’ve been out here?”
“Years,” I say honestly.
Harper’s Pier gets a lot of foot traffic during the daylight hours but hasn’t been popular at night probably since my high school days. It’s a long, narrow pier that winds through the woods and eventually ends out on the river. There are lots smaller branches winding off from the main pier with benches here and there. When I was a teenager, we used to joke that the pier was haunted. We’d make up scary stories and try to get our friends to jump at imaginary noises in the trees. I’d heard that the city recently installed more lights along the pier and added handrails for safety, but this is the first time I’ve been to Harper’s Pier in years.
I follow Hannah as she climbs out of the truck. She holds out a hand to me and I take it, twining my fingers in hers. I marvel at how natural it feels to do it. Just yesterday, it would have felt strange or awkward, but now I can’t stop touching her. She leads the way across the parking lot to the pier entrance. The trees close in around us as we leave the parking lot behind. The moon is nearly full tonight so it’s not nearly as dark as it could be. The lights along the pier are dim and spaced far enough apart to throw the spaces between them into shadow. At first, the only sounds are those of our footsteps on the wood and our breathing.
Hannah glances back at me and I see her smile in the dark. We don’t speak as we walk deeper into the trees. The sounds of the night begin to surround us. Frogs croak, crickets chirp, and somewhere an owl lets out a soft hoot. I see fireflies blinking in and out among the trees and I’m thankful it’s not hotter outside or we’d be dealing with swarms of mosquitoes. The air is cool, but I can feel a hint of the humidity that summer will bring in a few short weeks. Ahead of us, the pier splits off to the right. If my memory is correct, that branch winds into the trees for a bit and ends with a little covered area and a few benches. Hannah hesitates for a moment before turning down it and I follow her.
The new branch isn’t quite as wide as the main pier, so I have no choice but to walk behind her. It’s too dark for me to appreciate the view of her hips swaying in those jeans, but I can draw from my memory.
“Where are we going?” I ask in a low voice.
Hannah doesn’t look back as she answers. “We’re exploring. Just come on.”
“Okay,” I say, indulging this playful side of her I hadn’t known existed before now.
Ahead, I can see the roof of the gazebo-like structure marking the end of this branch of the pier. Hannah walks as far as the pier allows. She lets go of my hand and leans her elbows on the railing, peering out at the forest around us. I follow her gaze for a moment, before my eyes
go back to her face. I’d much rather look at her than the woods. We’re both silent for several seconds. I move to stand closer to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. She leans into me, setting my body alight with memories of her naked in my arms. She sucks in a shaky breath and I wonder if she’s remembering the way I felt inside her. I wonder if she’s as full of need as I am.
“Hannah.” My voice is a harsh whisper in the quiet of the night. I don’t know what I planned to say, but it doesn’t matter because in the next instant, she turns in my arms and her mouth is on mine.
My arms lock tightly around her, pressing every inch of her soft, warm curves against me. Her hand curls around my neck, fingers twining in my hair while her mouth is fused to mine. Her tongue swirls against mine and I stop thinking altogether. My hands smooth up her back under her shirt, loving the feel of her bare skin on mine. I bring one hand around to cup her breast, feeling the nipple pebble against the satin bra. I want nothing more than to strip her naked right here and hear her cry out as I bring her to orgasm. I remember the sounds she made when she came apart in my arms the other night and my cock turns to iron.
I drag my lips down Hannah’s neck, nibbling and kissing as I go. Her hand trails down to brush against my rock-hard erection and I groan. She makes a little noise of appreciation.
“I didn’t have time to properly appreciate this the other night,” she says in a breathy whisper. I feel her unzipping my pants. A mixture of surprise and anticipation courses through me. I’ve never imagined Hannah would be this bold. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. When she reaches into my pants and takes me in her hand, I suck in a breath. Hannah grips me tightly and gives me one long, slow stroke from base to tip, squeezing slightly when she gets to the head.
“You’re so hard.” She kisses me again. “It’s kind of flattering.”
I grin. “You have that effect on me. It’s made for quite a few uncomfortable work days over the years.”
