Hot Mess (Life Sucks Book 2)

by Elise Faber

  “Yeah, I remember.” But then she reached into his pocket, pulled out the keys, then unlocked the front door. “However, I didn’t say slow. Come inside and kiss me, Finn.” She pushed it open and spun around to face him. “But this time, kiss me all over.”

  His need was a red haze in the back of his eyes. His desire warred with the need to protect her.

  Shan stepped inside, heels hitting the floor, her hands coming to the buttons of her coat.

  One undone.

  The next.

  It landed with a whisper of sound next to her heels.

  She reached for the zipper on the side of her dress.

  And Finn stopped watching.

  He moved.

  Across the floor, kicking the door shut behind him, pausing the barest second to flip the lock, then he was striding toward Shan, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her down the hall.

  Her breath was hot against his throat for the barest second before her tongue flicked out, caressing his skin, lips pressing, teeth nipping and making him jump and groan. Fingers fisting in his hair, her breasts against his chest. He prowled through his room, dumped her onto the bed, and followed her down.

  “You are so fucking beautiful,” he said and then, because her lips were there and so fucking tempting, he kissed her.

  Had just kissing a woman ever been this good?

  Never.

  Otherwise he would have never stopped doing it.

  With Shannon, everything was more intense, evoked bigger emotions, everything was just . . . more.

  Her hands slid from his nape, down his spine, nails digging in, and somehow his cock got even harder. He shifted, leaning back so he could trail a hand up her leg, reveling in the silky skin, liking it too much when she wrapped it around his hips.

  “Finn,” she groaned when his hand continued its movements, tracing up her side, finding the hidden zipper beneath her arm and tugging it down.

  She released him long enough to slip her arms free from the straps of her dress then reached for him again, one hand yanking at the bottom of his shirt, the other tugging at the tie around his neck. Yeah. Her using that strip of fabric to haul him closer, to angle his neck until his mouth reached hers was every bit as good as he’d imagined that morning on the deck.

  But he wanted to be naked more.

  So, he kissed her until his lungs screamed for oxygen, then he pulled back and ripped off his tie, made quick work of the buttons on his shirt before tossing it aside. His shoes hit the floor, followed by his socks and slacks. Then he turned back and . . . nearly swallowed his tongue.

  While he’d been undressing, Shannon had one-upped him.

  Her dress was off, crumpled to the side, and she was reaching for the clasp of a lacy black bra.

  “Wait,” he said, snagging her hands, tugging them to her sides, wanting—no—needing to look. He didn’t know how he was able to function with all of the golden skin on display, the lights overhead showcasing every single curve and silken inch of her. “Fuck, Blue Eyes. You take my breath away.”

  “Finn,” she whispered. “Please, come down here and stop staring at me.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he said.

  She blushed.

  “Truly beautiful.”

  “Stop.” But then she tugged him down on top of her, wrapped her legs around his waist, and kissed him. He turned himself over to the moment, knowing that he would have time to convince her to see her own beauty, that she’d grown leaps and bounds in confidence on her own over the last weeks, that the strength and self-assurance would continue to grow as time went on.

  Her hand slipped down, under the waistband of his boxers and, yeah, that wasn’t happening, not if he wanted to last longer than a teenage boy.

  He snagged her wrist, brought it to his mouth, flicked his tongue out. “Fuck, you taste good.” Then he reached for the cup of her bra, tugged it down, and nearly came from the sight of those dusky nipples, the soft globes of her breasts exposed and waiting for his mouth. She released a shaky breath, nipples tightening, and he bent, sucked one deep, reveling in her groan, the way she writhed against him, the sweetness of her skin on his tongue.

  Fingers in his hair, nails biting against his scalp.

  Moans in his ears.

  He moved, kissing his way to the other side, nipping and soothing his way over her other breast, tracing her nipple with his tongue. She bucked, fingers tightening, and then he tugged himself loose, traced his mouth along her skin as he moved down and down and in between.

  Lace torn and tossed to the side. Her labia parted to reveal the glistening, pink folds of her pussy, making his tongue ache, his mouth water, his cock harden to granite.

  “Finn—”

  She broke off on a long, loud groan when he pressed his lips to her and got to work.

  Testing strokes to see what made her writhe, finding the right pressure, circling and dancing his tongue against her clit, falling into the rhythm that had her moaning as she catapulted up and over the edge of pleasure.

  “Right—” She broke off. “No—” She reached down and tilted his head slightly to the side. “There.”

  Never let it be said, he couldn’t take direction.

  He stayed there. He stayed focused, using his tongue, his thumb, slipping a finger inside and working her pussy until he felt her stiffen beneath him, those hands coming back to his head, gripping his hair tight.

  “Oh fuck,” she groaned and came apart on his tongue.

  He ground his hips into the mattress, trying to control the raging need boiling inside him, trying to keep his promise that this night was for her, for slow, and slow didn’t include crawling up her body and planting himself deep inside her hot, wet pussy.

  Not tonight. Not tonight. Not—

  She released his hair, shoved him back, and crawled on top of him.

  “Shan—”

  “Shh.”

  There was a crinkle and he glanced down to see she had produced a condom from somewhere. But before he could ask her how or tell her they didn’t need to do this tonight, the plastic square was torn open and she was rolling the latex sheath down his cock.

  Just the feel of her fingers on him, the last of her still on his tongue, was enough that he almost came right then and there.

  “Now, honey,” she murmured, “yeah?”

  He nodded, unable to form words with her poised above him, eyes hot, pussy . . . so . . . damned . . . close.

  Her hips dropped and she took him inside.

  Fucking hell.

  No. Fucking heaven.

  His eyes rolled back as she slid down the length of him, taking him until he bottomed out inside her, pussy clenching tightly around him.

  She rocked against him. “Finn. I—mmm—I need—”

  He moved, flipping them over, lifting one thigh and wrapping it around his waist as he slid in and out, in and out. As he moved faster, deeper, harder. It was too fast. Too hard. Too deep. He knew he should slow down, even as flames licked up his spine, need coiling in his abdomen, the red haze expanding and covering his vision. His orgasm was close. Too close.

  But then Shannon wrapped her other leg around him, tilting her pelvis, taking him deeper, moaning his name. “More,” she gasped when he hit just the right spot. “Right there. Oh God.”

  Her head flew back, her pussy clenched around his cock, and—

  She moaned as she flew over the edge again.

  And he lost his battle with slow, pounding into her faster and faster until he exploded, until he lost himself to the most powerful orgasm of his life.

  His heart was racing, sweat was dripping down his spine, and his head spun, but he still managed to not collapse on top of Shan, to roll to the side and tug her close instead, then to ask, “Where did you hide that condom?”

  Not that.

  He’d meant to talk about how great this was, how much she meant, how he’d somehow fallen for this woman in no time at all, and yet it meant more than any oth
er relationship he’d ever had.

  Shan laughed, head tilting, eyes finding his, lips curved and so gorgeous that she took his breath away, all over again. “I’ll tell you another time.”

  He grinned, kissed her.

  Then he held her tight and let his eyes drift closed.

  Just for a few minutes.

  Seventeen

  Trucks and Morning Wood

  Shannon

  She started to roll over but found herself pressed to the mattress by a heavy arm and leg.

  A heavy, male arm and leg.

  Her pulse raced for a moment before she remembered Finn. The glorious night with him. The message from his sister telling them she was going to crash on Shannon’s couch and not to feel like they had to rush back.

  Which had ended up with them definitely not rushing back home.

  It had also ended with them breaking into Finn’s condom supply rather than hers.

  Three times in one night. That must be a record. A movie star record.

  She grinned, stifling a giggle since that movie star was currently snoring softly in her ear.

  All the agents and publicists in the world couldn’t take that out of a man.

  She shifted, wincing slightly—because three times. Worth it, for sure. But also, her body wasn’t exactly primed and ready to go after her failed marriage. It was certainly primed and ready to go now, though.

  Finn held her tightly, his warmth having led her to kick off the blankets, his stubble catching her hair, the spicy, male scent of him surrounding her.

  Round four, despite the soreness, sounded very appealing.

  She sighed, pressed lightly against his chest. Before round four, however, she needed the bathroom, to brush her teeth, and to check her phone to make sure all was good with Ry.

  It was still dark outside, the first rays of the morning just barely peeking over the horizon to warm the sky from black to navy, so Rylie wouldn’t be awake yet, especially after the excitement of the night before. Plus, Shannon had purposely turned off the Do Not Disturb, just in case Lexy had needed to reach her.

  No calls or texts had come through.

  So, she felt safe in a bathroom, teeth, check cell, then round four game plan.

  But she had to wriggle her way out of Finn’s octopus limbs first.

  She stifled a giggle when she slipped a leg free, only to have him roll over and pin her to the mattress, his hand sliding up into her hair and weaving into the locks there. His hips inched forward and . . . hello, morning wood.

  Maybe round four would happen first.

  That thought had the stifled giggle emerging.

  Finn ran his jaw along hers. “Mornin’,” he murmured.

  “Morn—”

  He kissed her. Shan froze for a millisecond—because hello, morning breath—but then his tongue slipped between her lips and she wasn’t thinking of her probable dragon breath. She was kissing Finn, and the spicy, intoxicating taste of him was just as good in the morning as it was any other time of day.

  Luckily, he seemed to feel the same way about her since the kiss went on long enough to steal all the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping and her pulse thundering in her veins.

  “Morning,” she said once she could summon enough oxygen to force out the word.

  He grinned, brushed his lips over the tip of her nose. “Morning, Blue Eyes,” he said, his voice no longer sleepy, hand dropping to her hip, fingertips tracing tiny circles. He pressed one more kiss to her lips then pulled back. “We should get to Rylie.”

  “That.”

  She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until his brows drew together.

  “That?”

  Shan’s first instinct was to deflect, to pull back, to get up and use the bathroom and rush back to her daughter. But . . .

  She’d lived a long time hiding who she was.

  She was done with that.

  They’d spent nearly every day together for more than a month, and Finn, well, he’d taken absolutely everything she’d thrown at him, all the little scary pieces she’d been afraid to share, vulnerabilities she’d been terrified to put out there, he’d treated them carefully. He’d protected and sheltered and treaded carefully.

  A month might seem like too little time.

  But he’d proven himself time and time and time again.

  “Finn,” she said. “I—”

  Her words were cut off by the loud rumble of a truck, its almost ear-piercing engine noise breaking the early morning silence.

  “What?” Finn pushed out of bed, slipped out into the hall.

  They had a road that backed up to the row of beach cottages, but it was beyond quiet, narrow, and hard to navigate big vehicles on it. Even the UPS truck only came down if there was a package that was too heavy to carry . . . or a multitude of boxes to collect.

  Her stomach twisted into knots.

  She had no reason to feel this way, but a sinking sensation crept into her gut, and she followed Finn out of bed, rushing down the hallway to peek through the blinds next to him.

  A moving truck.

  Parking behind her house.

  What the fuck?

  She watched another car pull behind the truck, saw a trio of shadowy figures make their way down the concrete path that led to her door, and her throat seized up.

  She turned, rushed back to the bedroom, searching for her clothes, but Finn was already there and ahead of her. He tossed a pair of pajama bottoms, a T-shirt, and a sweatshirt on the bed.

  “Get dressed.”

  Then he grabbed clothes for himself, yanking them on and grabbing their cells.

  “Come on.”

  They rushed to the front door, pushed out it, ran for her deck, and—

  Brian.

  Fucking Brian.

  “What are you doing?” she exclaimed, eyeing the two boys who looked to be college age standing behind him.

  He crossed his arms. “The house sold. It closes today. You need to be out.”

  There was a multitude of problems with his words.

  But all she could summon was silence.

  Because she was trying to process what in the ever-loving fuck her asshole of an ex was saying.

  Then his words hit home, and her heart convulsed.

  Then the anger hit.

  “You’re fucking kidding me,” she snapped, clenching her hands into fists. “Please, tell me that you’re not fucking serious. That you didn’t promise me this house for our daughter and then sold it out from beneath me. That you didn’t ignore our settlement or my requests or my fucking lawyer and do this.”

  He rolled his eyes, made a noise of disgust. “Don’t be dramatic.”

  “Don’t be—” Her hands twitched with the urge to punch him.

  “Who’s this?” Brian’s gaze drifted over her shoulder.

  She shook her head. He was telling her he’d taken away her daughter’s home, and he was concerned about the man standing at her back. “How was I stupid enough to waste so many years with you?”

  “How was I stupid enough to waste so many years with such a dumb bitch?” Brian countered.

  “Don’t call her that.” She felt Finn take a step closer, his chest brushing her back.

  Brian rolled his eyes.

  “You would do this to our daughter?” she asked. “Show up out of the blue on a Sunday morning? Where are we supposed to go?”

  He shrugged. “I’m sure Pepper will let you stay with her.”

  “And our stuff? What about Rylie’s things?”

  Another shrug. “They’re here to pack up for you. It’ll go to a storage unit, and you can retrieve it when you’re ready.” He pulled out a piece of paper, shoving it at her so she had no choice but to take it. “Your half of the sale, minus the moving fees and six months of storage charges.”

  Anger swept through her, and she sucked in a breath, biting her tongue until it bled.

  “We’re done here.” Brian turned away from her, took a key out from
his pocket, and handed it to the movers. “You’re parked in front of the correct house? 5421 Oceanfront?”

  Finn stiffened behind her.

  The mover nodded, took the keys.

  “Brian,” she gritted out. “You need—”

  “Wait,” Finn murmured into her ear. “Just wait for one second. I’ll be right back.”

  He disappeared, footsteps quiet on the deck. Shan heard him, heard his words, but she was more focused on Brian. On the movers.

  “She can take until the end of the day,” Brian said, as though he were giving her the greatest courtesy.

  “Brian,” she said.

  He turned away, headed for the steps.

  “Brian!”

  “Hash it out with your lawyer,” he said. “Or better yet, deposit the check and shut up for once in your life.”

  He walked around the corner of the house, his footsteps loud in the still quiet morning. She heard his car door slam, the engine start, sand kick up against the undercarriage as he drove away.

  The mover cleared his throat, moved as though to unlock the front door.

  “Take one step into my house and—”

  “It’s my house, actually.”

  Finn’s voice made her jump and turn around. He had a folder of papers. “I purchased this place several weeks ago. Here’s the paperwork”—he extended a thick packet toward the mover—“It’s all there. I can call whoever it is that you need in order to verify I made the purchase.”

  The movers looked at one another. “Do you want her stuff moved?” one asked Finn.

  “No.”

  “Are we still getting paid?” asked the other.

  “Yeah. In fact,” Finn said and pulled out his wallet, extracting a few bills, “buy yourselves some breakfast, call it an early day, and get on with your weekend.”

  They looked at each other again, nodded.

  “Cool,” the first one said. “But if our boss—”

  “I’ll let your boss know.”

  The second one blew out a breath. “That’d be great, dude. I can’t lose another job, otherwise my mom said I would have to move out.”

  “Can’t have that,” Finn deadpanned.

  “Nope.”

  More looking. More standing around.

  “You can go,” Finn said.