Talk to Me

by Clare James

  “What does the doc say?”

  “I haven’t mentioned it yet.”

  “Finn, I think maybe you should. Before you do something you regret.”

  As usual, Nate was right.

  Chapter 9

  OBJECTIVITY (n.):

  An impartial role that a reporter should

  maintain when covering a story.

  Casey

  In the morning I took my bike out for a spin. A spin down to Finn’s house. Zack wasn’t helpful giving me much information and I exhausted all my resources at the station. It was time to make a move.

  I let myself enjoy the ride for the first few minutes. I loved this part of Stillwater. The old English-styled homes nestled along the river, the rugged cliffs, and flowing water.

  Up on the ridge, Finn had an enormous monster of a house. White with black shutters that stretched for nearly a block. Yet somehow he managed to make it look homey as well as grand.

  Strange. His house wasn’t gated off, but it was tucked away. Maybe people around here just gave him the space he needed. My brother certainly did.

  I looped around the cove, studying everything, trying to figure this guy out. I knew, deep in my gut, that there had to be some juicy reason he left hockey. My Lois Lane sensibilities told me I was onto something here.

  Completely lost in thought, trying to catch a glimpse of Finn in the wall of windows as I slowly coasted along the street, I didn’t notice the dogs approach from the left. If you could even call them dogs. Two enormous, pony-sized Great Danes announced their presence with a thunderous bark. Followed by a terrifying growling noise, like two possessed demons.

  I began to pedal faster, but in all the confusion, I gripped my brake at the same time. A mistake that launched me head first over my bike. I landed in a kneeling position, after doing a full 360 in the air, before falling forward on my stomach. The dogs crouched, ready to charge. I screamed, rolled into the fetal position, and covered my face.

  My legs stung like a motherfucker and the dogs were snapping. Yet it didn’t sound like they had moved any closer to me.

  I peeked out from behind my hands to find them perched on the edge of the property. They were bound by an electric fence, but I didn’t trust that they wouldn’t decide to break through it if something on the other side of it caught their fancy.

  “Nice puppies,” I said. “Nice. Nice. Stay there.”

  I picked up my bike and slowly slid on, ignoring the pain. When I took that first pedal, they growled again and the panic was back. I wiped out for a second time, tearing even more skin off my legs.

  “Jesus,” a low voice rang out.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  It was Finn.

  “Retreat,” he said to the beasts. They backed up.

  He rushed over to me. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, keeping my gaze downward. I wasn’t ready for him to see the victim of the almost-mauling.

  “Casey?”

  “Hi,” I said.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “On a little bike ride,” I told him.

  “Man,” he said, wincing at my bloody legs. “You’re hurt.”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and mostly carried me inside.

  The Daley house, though enormous, was stylish and inviting. It was decorated in cool tones of blues and grays — simple lines and rich fabrics. The walls were adorned in modern art. I recognized the colorful work of Paul Klee, Rothko, and Miró. It was tasteful, minimal, and strangely sophisticated for someone like Finn. There was definitely more to this guy than there appeared to be.

  The kitchen was clean and bright, full of cool stainless steel appliances and sleek maple cabinets. It smelled like citrus and coffee. A red mug, bowl of half-eaten granola, and iPad were abandoned on the table. I had obviously interrupted his breakfast.

  He hoisted me up to his counter and I felt light-headed.

  “Wait here,” he said. “I need to get some supplies.”

  It was a perfect time for me to snoop, but I didn’t want to drip blood all over the place, so I waited, studying each inch of his home within my line of sight.

  “This is going to sting,” Finn said as he dumped out the contents of his first aid kit and opened the bottle of antiseptic. “Can you handle it?”

  I didn’t want to admit it, but I was terrible with pain. And blood. I tried to divert my eyes because I knew if I caught a glimpse of my injury, I’d probably throw up. I could feel the saliva pooling in my mouth as it was.

  “Maybe a shot of whiskey or something first?” I asked. “That should take care of it.”

  “Sorry, Casey.” He smiled, lightly rubbing the inside of my calf. “This is a dry house.”

  “Really?” I asked, shocked. Finn had quite the reputation for partying. He was always a tabloid favorite. During the hockey season, the weekend gossip programs usually included at least one of Finn’s shenanigans.

  “That’s not what I’ve heard,” I said without realizing it. Shit! My reporter mind had lost its censor. I’d broken the cardinal rule: Never let the subject know what you know. It was crucial for uncovering these types of stories. I wasn’t supposed to know (or care) about Finn’s past. My objective here was to simply begin gaining his trust.

  “Really?” he asked — his question laced with an undercurrent of heat. “Well, don’t believe everything you read.”

  “Sorry.” I tried to recover. “I didn’t mean—”

  Finn busied himself with the first aid kit. It was a move designed to create some distance, but I could feel his brain working.

  I desperately needed to defuse this situation pronto, but his laughter interrupted me.

  “Ah, I get it now.” He shook his head.

  He stopped then, for a fraction too long.

  That should’ve been my warning. My warning to run. Because what happened next, well, that could never be undone.

  Chapter 10

  Finn

  In my seat across from Kiki, I smiled, thinking about that first time Casey showed up at the house. But I would never utter a word of that little episode to anyone. Ever.

  Three chance meetings. Yes, I might have been on the new age train, but not even I believed that three chance meetings could be a coincidence or destiny or whatever. This girl was playing me in some way. I knew it. She’d come here to offer up favors for bragging rights. Another Puck Bunny preparing for the season. I bet Nate talked Gina into it.

  I didn’t want to believe it at first, but realized it had to be Gina who sent her. And as much as I wanted Casey here, this new development was disheartening. Casey Scott did not seem like the type to hang with Gina’s crowd. But she came here for one reason, and I guess it was time to give it to her.

  Shit knows, I needed it.

  “It’s no accident that you just happened to be riding your bike past my house, is it?” I asked, fighting the urge to just take her right there. “No accident that we keeping running into each other?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked. Her voice was shaking, like maybe it was her first time doing something like this.

  Well, I’d just have to make it extra memorable then.

  Damn, it’d been so long since I’d done anything like this. I know my doc wouldn’t approve, but I was trying. The acupuncture, the exercise, the fucking tea. Nothing was helping where this girl was concerned.

  I just needed to do it and get her out of my system.

  Casey was trying to take control — the beautiful art of seduction. She started to slide down the counter. I wasn’t going to have it.

  I flipped her back up onto the countertop and leaned in to smell her. She didn’t smell sweet like most girls who had come out to the house. Her scent was musk and spice and shit, I couldn’t think straight.

  This girl just might be the death of me. I had to get closer.

  I maneuvered between her scraped legs, careful not t
o rub up against them. Her eyes grew wide. She was good at playing the innocent girl and fuck if it wasn’t a turn on.

  I took a moment to regulate my breathing, fearing that if I didn’t, this was going to be over in under a minute. I had to look away because her body brought the filthiest of thoughts to my mind.

  When I turned back, Casey was also breathing heavily. She was still, careful not to move. Though it didn’t stop her nipples from tightening under her little T-shirt. I was having a very good effect on this girl, and I couldn’t help but wonder about the other places she was feeling me.

  Suddenly, I had to know if she was wet.

  I took each of her tiny thighs in my hands and pushed them open. “Did you want it like this?” I asked her, after what felt like an hour of silence.

  She didn’t answer right away, so I tried to help her along.

  I reached out to stroke her lips, running my thumb across the bottom one. It was so plump I wanted to nip at it, but I’d wait. There’d be plenty of time for that later. I let my hand drop to the soft skin of her neck and watched it travel between her heaving breasts, along her taut stomach, downward to the thin nylon of her shorts.

  I stifled the moan that slipped out when I felt her wet heat.

  Then, I moved my hand away and I swear I could hear her silent protest.

  Don’t worry, baby. It’s not over yet.

  “Or—” I pulled her off the counter and flipped her over it, eliciting a soft moan from her full lips.

  With my hand on the center of her back, I held her in position. It was a sight that would be burned into my brain forever. The smooth olive skin of her ass was peeking out from under her shorts. I had to see more, so I raised her ass up just a little.

  Christ.

  “Wait, Finn,” she said, but I didn’t stop.

  I couldn’t wait another second to touch her. I reached between her legs, pulled her shorts and panties to the side, and worked my fingers along her seam. She was slick with need, like I was hoping she’d be, and I lost myself in the feel of her.

  She had me by the balls and I knew in that moment I would’ve given her anything she asked for. I stoked her and relished in her whimpers, learning what she liked and what made her crazy.

  “Tell me how you found out about my interests, Casey,” I asked before sliding two fingers so quick and so deep inside her that it made her call out.

  And I did it over and over again.

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I guess I’ll just have to make you talk to me.”

  I continued fucking her with my fingers, thanking all the Gods when she leaned back into my hand.

  “Tell me,” I repeated. “And I’ll give you what you want.”

  Chapter 11

  CONFLICT OF INTEREST (n.):

  When a reporter has a connection to the story subject or

  issue that might influence her reporting.

  Casey

  Finn tore at my shorts and panties until they were pooled at my ankles. He then placed a strong hand at the center of my back, and kicked my legs further apart as he continued his assault.

  I felt used — a prop for his entertainment. In any normal situation, it would’ve made me shred his balls. I would tell him off and give him a tongue lashing that would forever deflate his massive ego. In the moment, though, all I could think about was using my tongue for other things.

  My body seized in the most pleasurable way, clenching, gripping, from the inside out. I was ready to explode.

  The sensation was so overpowering, it scared the hell out of me. Finn was consuming my body with his hands, taking what he wanted. Still, I knew he was holding back. He was fighting something deep inside and it both scared and excited me. My face was heated and when he turned me around I wanted to beg him not to stop. I wanted to give in.

  But I couldn’t. This was too much, and it had gone too far.

  “Stop.” I was finally able to squeeze the words from my throat. “Stop,” I said again, pleading.

  Finn immediately pulled away, and I tried to catch my breath. It was the most intense, most erotic five minutes of my life and I didn’t even have an orgasm. What would this man do with an entire night? The thought had me fighting the urge to pull him back because I desperately wanted to find out.

  When the world stopped spinning, I met his gaze.

  His posture was slumped now; his eyes pained as they looked up at me. Wherever he went in his mind when he was touching me, well, he wasn’t there any longer. He returned and he didn’t look happy to see me. His face flushed, like he was embarrassed. Like he made a huge mistake.

  I wanted to tell him it was okay, that I wanted it. I wanted him to know how much I loved his hands on me. But it was too awkward to say anything. Painfully so.

  “Fuck,” he whispered, running his hands through his hair again.

  “You can say that again,” I blurted.

  His eyes went wide, softening.

  “Please,” he said, gently touching my arm. “I can explain. Just wait here a minute. Please, Casey. Please don’t leave.”

  He walked down the hall and I watched his every step.

  And that’s when I realized that I was sorry, too. I was aching to be one of those girls, aching for what we had just done to go further. To go all the way.

  What the hell was I doing?

  I finally had a lead, a solid lead on a story that could change my life. And I was messing it up on a man who thought of women as playthings for his enjoyment.

  The way he handled my body — I was trying to muster anger, but the thought of his hands on me had the opposite effect. I had to pull it together.

  Waiting for my breathing to slow, I tried to think about this logically. Did I really want to throw my career away for a quick lay? Because that’s all Finn Daley wanted. I’d done the research; I knew his M.O. In all the events he went to, all the tabloid stories about his personal life, there was never a woman who lasted more than one news cycle. He got in, and got out.

  The video montage of Finn’s women played behind my eyelids now, causing a disturbing twinge of jealousy. Now that I knew this side of Finn — this tormented side. This dominant, sexy-as-fuck side, it hurt to see him with all those other women. Knowing what he did to them, the way he touched and commanded them. And I’m sure they were all too happy to comply. Just as I was, and that pissed me off.

  This man who made me feel so alive, so wanted, so sexy. Well, he was a player. A user of women. An entitled, overgrown, and oversexed boy.

  And he wouldn’t get the best of me.

  Chapter 12

  Finn

  Anchor/Kiki Stuart: So, was it love at first — or third — sight?

  Finn Daley: It was definitely something.

  Anchor/Kiki Stuart: Hmm. Elusive.

  Finn Daley: I don’t mean to be. Let’s just say it was complicated.

  Anchor/Kiki Stuart: I see, Finn. Okay, moving on then. What did Casey do when she realized you thought she was a Puck Bunny?

  Finn Daley: Well, let’s just say it’s a good thing they call me a Pepper Pot.

  Anchor/Kiki Stuart: A what?

  Finn Daley: A player with great speed and quickness.

  Anchor/Kiki Stuart: Ha! This is getting good. Did she come after you, Finn Daley?

  Finn Daley: She tried.

  What the fuck was I doing? Casey was not one of the girls. I should’ve known right away. Underneath that tough exterior was an innocent. It was like she was being touched for the first time. Her warm brown eyes turned molten when I put my hands on her. Her tight frame grew slack and I swear she welcomed the way I positioned her body so I could take it. When I did, she was ready and open for me. And damn, if I didn’t get lost in her.

  I went into the bathroom and splashed water on my face, thinking of anything I could to make my erection go way.

  I wanted to fix this; I had to fix it. It was time to man up. I’d just explain the misunderstanding. But how the hell would I explain that in my forme
r life I was used to having girls showing up at all hours to feed my appetite? Gina and Heather were at every game and event with a flock of girls willing to do just about anything to spend a night with an NHL player.

  Taking full advantage of those situations cost me the only woman I ever loved. But I was no longer that guy — no longer a fuck up — despite what my wild hair, flushed skin, and crazed eyes said in the mirror.

  I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d do if I were in Casey’s position.

  Fucking run, that’s what.

  Once again, I was back in a mess with someone I thought I could really care for. No, I didn’t really know her yet. Yes, I’d only seen her a few times. I knew it was crazy to be thinking this way, but there was just something about Casey Scott that made me want more.

  That was something my new lifestyle afforded me, clarity. I had moved out of the fog I was trapped in and the uncertainty I always felt. I was healthy, happy, and ready to move on. I was also finally ready to be with a woman again.

  For some unknown reason, I wanted it to be her.

  When I made it back into the kitchen, Casey was pacing. Her eyebrows pulled together, creating the most adorable crease on her forehead. Her jaw was tight. Still, she had the most beautiful glow to her. She was tousled and rumpled and a bit out of sorts. A little wild and a lot confused. It had me growing hard all over again.

  I moved slowly, uncertain at what she’d do. She hadn’t left, so I took that as a good sign. Honesty is what was needed. And hopefully she wouldn’t run out the door screaming. I had to salvage this, because I wanted another chance to do it right.

  Jesus, this girl was going to kill me.

  She stopped when I approached, her eyes still glued to the floor. I needed to dig deep and work my magic here.

  “Casey,” I said, slow and steady. I reached out for her, but before my hands made it to her skin, her open palm came flying at my face.

  Relying on instinct, I reached up and intercepted the strike before she connected with my flesh.