by Lola Finn
Exposed
Haven Cove - Book Five
Lola Finn
Copyright © 2020 by Lola Finn
Published by Gray Page Books LLC
All rights reserved
Visit our website at lolafinnromance.com
Edited by Lawrence Editing
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental
ISBN: 978-1-950847-14-3
Contents
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Fast Preview
About the Author
Chapter One
Palmer
The night guard stares at me while I not so patiently wait outside the iron gates of Haven Cove. Not what most people would be doing at eleven o’clock at night, standing on the side of a dark highway, waiting for a cab to take them away from a resort most others would kill to enter, but those people clearly don’t have a dark, sexy mystery man who may or may not still be at the bar by the time they get back.
Shit. This was such a bad idea.
The thought stays with me all the way back to the bar in downtown Seaside Heights. Well, as downtown as you can get in this town. There’s a reason Luna and I ended up here earlier—a tiny little hole in the wall that claims to be a sports bar despite only having two TVs, one of which is playing a game show on mute. There aren’t really any options.
Despite the luxury resort just a mile down the road, Seaside Heights is anything but a tourist destination. For a second, Luna and I considered taking the Uber to the closest city so we could go to a real restaurant rather than settling into the only place here that serves food after seven. Other than the convenience store.
As I learned, though, the cheese fries at Mo’s Tavern are to die for, and it actually ended up a decent spot to celebrate the fact I’ll never have to wipe down another sweaty weight bench again.
That’s why we left Haven Cove in the first place tonight. It might have taken nearly half the summer, but my nightmare of being a personal trainer is finally over. Tomorrow, I won’t hobble into my cabin with aching calves and sore feet, smelling more of other people’s sweat than my own.
Instead, I’ll get to wear cute shoes and spend the day behind the front desk in the main lobby. And that is sure as hell worth celebrating.
We were celebrating. Having a grand old time. Then I saw him.
I was in the middle of my cheese fries when he walked in and slid into one of the booths, and I swear, my heart actually stopped. Then his eyes flew up to mine, his head tipping to the side while he raked them over every visible inch of me before they returned to mine, blazing from across the room.
With one look, he basically melted my panties off. Every time our gazes met after, we consumed each other, something building to the point that by the time I walked out of the bar, his eyes were burning into me like he was mentally dragging me back, pinning me to a wall, and fucking owning me. The look had my blood heating and pulse racing.
And I wanted to feel it again.
When I walk back through the heavy wooden door to the bar, heads swivel in my direction the same way they did when Luna and I came in earlier, arm in arm. They know I’m not one of them, but they also know most of the ivy league staffers and guests from Haven Cove wouldn’t step foot in a place like this.
The slightly rowdy crowd has thinned out and settled down, the jukebox quieter this late on a weeknight. I only make it a few steps in the door before I glance at the corner booth, and a shiver breaks out over my skin when I see him, already staring at me the same way he was when I walked out.
I swallow, skimming over him, his dark hair and hard jaw with a splattering of stubble I want scraping over my skin. The worn maroon tee grips his biceps and stretches over his muscular chest. Then I look up, and our eyes lock from across the room. It’s like wildfire, catching every nerve ending on its journey through me while his eyes tell me every single thing he wants to do to me.
“What can I get you?”
My gaze darts to the bartender, giving me a curious smile.
“Oh, uh…club soda?”
He raps his knuckles on the bar top and walks away.
When I glance back, my mystery man’s gone back to talking to his friend, but he glances just as I slide onto a barstool, all the way at the end away from everyone else, where I can still see him. Or more, where he can still see me.
I readjust on the red vinyl seat, my black skirt slipping higher up my thigh, and I lift my gaze right after. He’s already zeroed in on the newly available bare skin. He’s older, mid-twenties maybe.
The bartender drops off my drink, and I smile, opening the little clutch I brought to pay him. He shuffles back down the bar as I circle the little straw through the fizzy water, glancing over my shoulder. He’s still staring. Still hunting me with his gaze alone. But I want more than him looking. I want him to pounce. To shove up my skirt in the bathroom and rip off my panties and take me right there.
My fingers slide up, teasing the black material of my skirt a little higher as he tracks every centimeter of movement. He adjusts in his seat, and my eyes lower to under his booth table. From where I sit, I can see the bulge in his jeans.
I press my thighs together, my cheeks blushing, and when I look up again, his eyes are scorching. The heat from them reaches my skin, seeps into my muscles, and has my chest rising faster. I lick my lips, realizing I might succeed with my mission—not that I ever fail when I set my mind to something, just ask our staff director who gave me my new position simply so I’d leave him alone about it.
Right now, my mission is to not leave here without having red marks from his sexy stubble between my thighs. And like I said, I never fail.
Chapter Two
Briggs
I swirl the drink in my hand, watching the blonde at the bar beyond the amber-colored liquid splashing against the sides. Petite and curvy in all the right places, she has her sexy little black skirt slipped up her thigh, a tiny blue blouse hugging her tits.
She’s taunting me, tracing circles on her tan skin just below the hem of her skirt, her legs crossed on the stool, so the fabric just covers enough to hide whatever she has on underneath. Every now and then, she glances over with enough heat in her eyes that between the two of us, I’m half-convinced the entire place will engulf in flames.
We were in a similar dance earlier when she was here with her redheaded friend. Then she left, and as hard as my dick was from the two of us eye-fucking each other from across the bar, I decided it was for the best. She’s not from Seaside Heights, which can only mean she’s connected in some capacity to Haven Cove. And I have a rule about fucking where I eat.
“So, you’ve heard about this?”
I look up at Cole,
still sitting across from me in the booth. “What?”
He shakes his head and checks over his shoulder. “Sexy blonde is back?”
“Walked in about five minutes ago.” I swallow the last of my drink, refocusing on him and giving my cock a break from the mental images flashing through my head every time my eyes are locked on the blonde.
“You could just go buy her a drink, you know?”
“I don’t touch Haven Cove guests,” I remind him.
He coolly glances again and smirks. “That is not a guest. She wouldn’t have stepped foot in this place.”
I tip my chin to his phone, ready for a topic that doesn’t involve testing the strength of my zipper. “What are you asking me about? Have I heard about…”
“This.” He slides his phone across for me. “It’s a blog tied to a bunch of social media accounts. Everyone at the Cove is trying to figure out which staffer’s posting. They always have a piece of clothing, or a body part shot somewhere at the resort, and the captions…”
“Jesus,” I say.
The first image I scroll over is of skimpy bikini bottoms on a pool lounger. I don’t care how you mark me, just make it hurt.
Then I hit a picture of a chick from the neck down, wearing the bottoms but with her arm replacing the top. Use your teeth.
I toss the phone back to Cole, reaching under the table to grab my aching cock. So much for a distraction from the blonde. Now I just want to mark her and make it hurt, followed by ripping her panties off with my teeth.
My attention returns to her just as her gaze lifts, and I’m sliding out of the booth. If I don’t touch her, I’ll lose my fucking mind.
I spare Cole a look, to which he smirks.
“Go right ahead.” He gestures to the TV. “My game show’s on.”
“You’re a good man,” I say, clapping him on the back as I pass.
He snorts, sipping his beer, and looks back down at his phone. We met two years ago during his first season at the Cove. He worked as a server, bumped up to bartender this year—unheard of for a townie, but he made friends with the right people. Something I know a thing or two about when it comes to Haven Cove.
We’d seen each other around Seaside Heights but really bonded when we realized we both slipped away to the town bar when we needed a break from the resort guests. And the staff a lot of the time. I have a limit to how much bullshit I can handle from rich college kids, and the two staffers we fired the other day met mine weeks ago.
I have high hopes on the blonde helping me work out all the tension they caused. As I prowl toward the bar, my pulse thunders in my ears, louder the closer I am to her.
She starts to turn just as I reach her but stops when I slide my hand onto her lower back, stepping right beside her stool like we already know each other. We don’t. Not really. But with the way we’ve been staring at each other, one thing is for sure—she wants me, and I want her.
I press my nose to the side of her head, breathing her in. She smells like a goddamn cupcake, waiting for me to devour her.
And I plan on doing just that.
She hasn’t even turned her head yet when I move my mouth down to her ear.
“I’m buying you a drink.”
“I already have one,” she says, the hint of rasp in her voice going straight to my cock.
“Then have it with me.”
My hand slips lower over the soft curve of her ass, and I look up at Mo. The bartender nods without me even saying a word, reaching for the whiskey bottle to refill the tumbler I set on the bar. When my gaze comes back down, she’s blinking up at me, our eyes finally meeting as I tug her off the stool.
I don’t look back to see if she’s following. Of course she is. I give orders, people follow them. That’s the way my world works, and whether this bombshell knows it or not, she’s just planted herself firmly in the middle of that world.
And I plan to enjoy every fucking second of it.
We slide into a booth on the opposite side of the room from the one I left Cole in, the darker corner. My hand grazes over her bare thigh the second I settle in beside her. She gasps a little, her eyes darting behind me a second before Mo sets down my drink.
“We’ll see how much of that I get through before I drag you into the ladies’.” I push my hand between her knees, and she parts them for me, swallowing.
“You could just take me now,” she purrs.
I groan, skimming my fingers over her silky skin. “I’m attempting to be a gentleman here. Get to know you before you come on my face.”
She shivers, her dark green eyes locking onto mine.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Palmer. Yours?”
“Briggs.” I dip down to brush my lips over her neck. “And why are you in this shitty bar, Palmer?”
She moans when my tongue drags over her skin, her hips shifting, which moves my hand higher up her thigh. “The first time or the second time?”
“Either one,” I growl. “Just say it in that sexy voice of yours.”
I glance to make sure the few usuals left are still glued to one of the TVs. Every damn person in here is facing away from us, none of them aware of how close my hand is to finding out how wet she is for me.
“You,” she says. “I came back for you.”
“For me…or for this?” I rub my fingers over the fabric between her legs.
Fucking soaked.
As if she’s been thinking of this all night, just like I have.
Palmer quietly whimpers, turning her head to look me in the eyes. My attention falls to her pouty lips, but if I taste them, I won’t stop, so I kiss up her jawline.
“What do you do?” I ask.
She shakes her head, reaching over to grip my shirt while I slide my hand up and down her pussy through the fabric. “Customer service, mostly. You?”
“Administration…mostly.”
My fingers slip under the edge of her panties, dragging up through her slick lips to her clit.
“Shit,” she hisses. “Briggs.”
“You want me to stop?” I ask, circling the tight bundle of nerves. “Or do you want to be a bad girl and get off right here?”
Her eyes scan the bar before they meet mine, dripping with enough desire to answer my question even if she didn’t breathe out, “Yes.”
I nod, leaning in to barely graze my lips over hers, an electric current humming between us. “Don’t get us caught.”
She fists the front of my T-shirt as I stroke her under the table, beneath her skirt and the drenched thong hardly even covering her pussy anymore. Then Palmer’s hand drops to my cock, gripping it through my jeans, and I groan, lifting my hips for more contact.
We rub each other, right in the fucking bar. I check again, but there’s still not a single person interested in the two of us over in the dark corner, so I roll her clit faster. Her breathing loses rhythm, her hips rocking into my hand.
“Come, Palmer,” I growl into her ear, shallowly dipping a finger into her tight entrance, my thumb still hard at work. “Get off in the middle of the bar like a bad little girl.”
I lean over her, blocking her body with mine, and she buries her face in my neck. I keep shallowly fucking her with my finger, hitting the spot I know will send her spiraling. She pants and grinds into my hand as she moans in pleasure.
“Briggs,” she whispers. “Oh, God.”
My cock lurches as she comes with my name on those sexy lips, her pussy clamping down on my finger, and her breath hot on my neck.
As her legs stop shaking, she straightens up, her eyes drunk on bliss, and I slide my fingers out of her panties. I suck them off, groaning at the taste of her.
Fuck. I need more.
I grab my glass off the table, downing half of it in a swallow. “Bathroom. Thirty seconds.”
It takes her thirty-five to slip into the small one-person restroom where I’m waiting like an impatient lion for i
ts prey.
“You made me wait.”
Honestly, I don’t give a fuck, but I should. No one makes me wait—no one who knows better, that is. But Palmer’s lips turn up into a sexy smirk like she wanted me waiting. Wanted me ready to tear this place apart for another taste of her.
And I very much am, growling as I close the space in two steps and crush my mouth to hers.
It might be how fucking hot she has me, but the world flips as our lips collide. She moans into my mouth, and my cock threatens to rip through my fucking jeans. Her at full volume is the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard, and I plan to pull every one I can from her lips.
Our hands fly over each other, a flurry, hot and fast and passionate. I hike her skirt around her hips, exposing her red thong panties. Fucking drenched from her coming all over my fingers a few minutes ago.
Dropping down in front of her, my knees hit the grimy floor, but I don’t even care. I’ve got to have more of her. All of her.
I jerk her thong down, and she steps out before I tuck it into my back pocket for the time being rather than chance it touching the tile.
She sighs a breathy sigh, weaving her fingers into my hair as I lift one of her thighs over my shoulder. My face is just inches from her pussy, and the smell of her arousal has me growling.
“Fuck, baby,” I say, running my nose up her slit.
She moans, and I grab her other thigh, wanting her spread out in front of me. I put her leg over my other shoulder, and her head falls back against the wall.
“Briggs.” She whimpers, her raspy voice breathy and needy, and I groan at how good it sounds. She has her teeth dug into her plump bottom lip, her eyes wild and chest heaving. I smirk, holding her gaze.
Then I dive in.
She arches off the wall, gasping when my mouth first touches her dripping wet pussy. “Oh, fuck.”
I growl, my balls twitching as I part her puffy lips with my tongue. She’s fucking heaven, and my fingers flex into her flesh, every lick drawing me deeper and deeper until I’m not sure I’ll ever fucking escape her.
