“Definitely since she makes such awesome pancakes!” Finn retorts. I frown at him, which only makes his grin widen. I roll my eyes and I hear him laugh as I leave the room.
I head up the stairs, stopping around the corner. What is he going to say to her? Yes, I know I’m stooping to spying. I cross my arms and lean against the wall to listen, but it’s quiet down there; only the sound of their forks tapping on their plates can be heard. Are they using Morse code, sign language, lip reading, or are they writing notes to each other? Maybe they’re just hungry.
Just as I push away from the wall, Finn clears his throat and says, “I want to thank you for last night. You know. For helping me out. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem at all. I was glad to help.”
“I was a mess last night and I didn’t mean to upset her. That’s the last thing I wanted to do. We were supposed to have a nice weekend at my mom’s, but that doesn’t seem to be working out. I’ve never brought her to my hometown before. I wanted her to see where I grew up, and to show her around.”
“Can’t you still do that?”
“I guess, but I don’t know about going back there today. I don’t want to see my mother. I wanted to go to Mass at my old church, but I’m sure she’d show up and try to talk to me.”
They’re quiet again and I decide to go take a shower.
After my shower, I decide to wear the floral skirt I brought with me. It’s lavender and flared with a light floral design imprinted into the material. It’s sort of springlike. Finn liked me in a dress, so I’m sure the skirt will also win rave reviews. I put on a white, lace-up T-shirt and then work on my hair, gathering it to put into a high ponytail.
I just finish my light makeup when there’s a knock on the door. “Come in.”
Finn pops his head in and his gaze freezes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. I hope Julie didn’t call and upset him. Damn it.
He walks in and shuts the door. “I was just coming up to tell you that I love your pancakes.”
I shake my head. “Nope. It’s too late now. I walk up to him and pat him on the chest. “Sorry, Wilder. I know your endgame.”
He gives me a half smile, which instantly slips into a frown, and looks down at me, his face serious as he puts his hands on his hips. “I have some bad news.”
Oh no. “What?”
“I just got a call from Hank. He’s sending me to Charleston, West Virginia on Tuesday. I’ll be there until Thursday night.”
I pout for real this time. “Are you serious?”
He nods and scans my face. “Yeah. I’m visiting our sister station there for an assignment. I’m sorry. Hank is really making good on sending me away more often.”
I slink my arms through his, around his waist, my fingers digging into his back pockets, and I tilt my head back to look up at him. “Baby, I’m sorry.”
He moves his hands from his hips and onto mine, pulling me closer to him. “Are you still going to stay at my—our—apartment this week? Sleep in our bed?”
“I don’t know. I can just come over Thursday after work and wait for you.”
He shrugs and glances to the sink. “It’s up to you.”
“I still might stay there without you. I’m not sure.”
His eyes slide back to mine. “It’s your home, too, Becks. It always has been.”
I smile. “You’re so sweet.”
He sighs and shakes his head, his frown deepening. “I guess we only have a couple days together then.”
I nod as my gaze descends to his chest. “Okay.” He reaches up and runs his fingers through my ponytail. I again look up to his face and he stares into my eyes.
“What else is on your mind, baby?” I ask quietly.
“You.”
My heart begins to pound. “What about me?”
His contemplative eyes don’t waiver from mine. His fingers move to my cheek, his thumb sweeping my bottom lip. “You’re so beautiful, Becks.”
I smile and look back down to his chest, but I can still feel his eyes on me. He tips my chin up so I have to look at him. “I mean it. You make my heart race and my stomach spin around like one of those pinwheel kites at the festival.”
“Maybe you have the flu.”
He abruptly laughs and leans down to kiss me. “You’re so funny.” He kisses me again. “And cute.” Another kiss. “And sexy.” He steeply inhales and his hands drop to the hem of my skirt. “This skirt.” He bends and runs his hands up my thighs. “What are you trying to do to me?”
“Nothing. I like the skirt.”
“So do I, but I like what’s under it much more.”
I grin. “And it’s all yours, baby.”
“Good. You’re exactly what I need,” he growls and kisses me. With the urgency of his tongue, his wandering hands and how close he’s holding me, I know he wants more now, however, not in Bethany’s bathroom and not before we spend some time together outside the bedroom.
I abruptly break our kiss and say, “But first, let’s go see a lighthouse. I always wanted to see a real one.”
His forehead wrinkles and he petulantly scowls. “Why?”
“Because they’re neat. It’s also a pretty morning and we’re only here for a short while.” I grab his hand on my breast and try to turn him towards the door. “Come on.”
He tugs my hand, making me step back. “Becks, I’d rather stay here for a while.”
“Why?”
“Because...” Sex. I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings and give him the impression I don’t want him. He needs to talk and he’s not going to do any besides dirty talk if he succeeds in getting me into bed.
“Finn, I’m here for you, but you can have me in other ways, too. Let’s go to Fenwick Island Lighthouse. It’ll be fun and educational. I don’t know.”
His discordant eyes float over my face. “Don’t you want me, baby? I want you.” His hands begin to bunch up my shirt; making it known he wants to do this here and right now, forgetting the bed.
Even though I told him I’ll be here for whatever he needs, I’m afraid he’s going to start relying on only sex to be close to me and to temporarily chase away his anxiety. I want him to realize that I’m here in all capacities, not just as that thing Morgan called me—a dick cozy. I want intimacy with him, too, but on every level, not just sex. I’m not sure if my way will work, but I’ll give it a try. If not, I guess I will be letting him have his way…yet again.
“Finn, I do, but after we get back. Let’s go out and do something. We hardly ever do anything together.”
He argues, “We went to a kite festival.”
“Yes, and I loved it, but we weren’t entirely alone the whole time either. These past three years, we haven’t gone out in public together much. I want to. Please?”
I flutter my eyes and smile hopefully at him. Finally, he sighs and gives me a brief kiss. “Okay, Becks. We’ll go see your lighthouse.”
Works every time.
For how long, though?
I grin and he pushes off the bathroom door as he says, “Let’s go so we can get back.”
Great. This is going to be as easy as daring Rod to kiss Morgan.
CHAPTER 10
I shut the driver’s side door of my Toyota and wait for Finn as he sullenly walks over, his thumbs tucked into his pockets, his shoulders slumped and an irritable scowl written across his face. He has his sunglasses on still, so I can only see his pouting lips. He acts like I’m escorting him to his execution. Since I don’t have any pockets in my skirt, I jingle my car key out for him until he finally takes it from me, shoving it into his front jeans pocket. I then readily hold out my hand and he dutifully—with a truckload of petulance—takes it.
In an effort to get him to lighten up, I get on my tiptoes and try to reach his lips. I can’t, so I bounce in place. His lips slowly quirk up and he asks, “Problem?”
“You’re either too tall or I’m vertically challenged!”
>
He inclines his head to the side, appraising. “Among other things.”
Grabbing onto his shirt, I yank and growl, “Finn Wilder, you’d better give me a kiss this damn minute.”
“Or what?” he smugly challenges, trying to call my bluff with a slight, knowing smile. What a dick.
“Or I will rip your shirt open and you’ll have to show off your tattoo to everyone.”
His ghost of a smile bursts into a cockier-than-hell grin and he pushes his sunglasses up onto his head to expose his mischievous stare. He spurs, “Do it, baby. I dare you. I can’t wait.” Shit. I should’ve known he wouldn’t care if I tore his shirt. And if I don’t do it, he just called my bluff. Either way he wins.
Not happening. I have to outwit him somehow.
I say instead, “How about you just kiss me?”
Looking heavenward, he dramatically sighs and gripes, “Do I really have to?” He thinks he’s funny. Obligingly, he leans down to kiss me, but I pull away before he gets too close.
“Nope. You don’t.” I smirk tauntingly at him and turn away. Behind me, I hear him break down and laugh as I walk over to the tall, white, metal fence surrounding the white lighthouse. Coming across a sign hanging on the fence, I begin reading about the history of the light, sneaking a look from the corner of my eye to see what he’s doing; however, I can’t see him without turning my head.
Suddenly, Finn’s arms are around my stomach and his chin on my shoulder. He implores, “Can I have my kiss now?”
I capriciously laugh. “No.”
“You’re actually going to deny me?” It’s hard to.
Now I make a production out of sighing. “Yep. You hurt my feelings,” I tease.
He buries his lips against my neck and purrs, “I’m sorry, baby. How can I make it up to you?”
“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”
“I can think of something.”
“No way. I get to decide, not you.”
He drags his lips up and down my skin, and closing my eyes, I swallow when he asks, “Are you going to tease me all day?”
I squeak, “I might.” He lifts his head from me and tries to turn me around, but I grab onto the fence, preventing him from doing so.
“Is this how you’re going to be?” I hear the ambiguous grin in his voice, causing me to smile more.
“Maybe.”
I eye him from over my shoulder, his lips dangerously close to mine as he asks, “What am I going to have to do to get my kiss?” His eyes are marginally pleading and he rolls his lower lip under his teeth, surely tempting me. Gripping the fence tighter, I viciously resist those full, glistening lips of his, and kissing him with wild unrestraint.
Wickedly smirking at him, I whisper, “Work for it, Wilder.”
Turning, I walk along the fence and around the corner, finding another sign to distract me. Stopping, I glance at Finn through the white metal as a few women walk past him, furtively checking him out and giggling as they walk by. Unless they watch him online, I doubt they’re Finnatics since we’re far from Richmond. No, they were staring at my boyfriend because of how scrumptious he is.
It’s positively the mood-ring hair.
Wait. On second thought, it has to be his scorchingly carnal, dark-chocolate eyes that melt your soul with just one look.
Still in the same spot I left him, Finn transiently angles his head to see where the laughter is coming from. Not being able to help himself, he gives the women a polite nod accompanied by a crooked, shameless grin. Instantly, their mouths drop and they stop blinking as they bump into each other, caught in his magical allure. He must be recruiting new Finnatics.
It’s definitely his sexy smile.
I should be pissed at his flirting, like I was at the race, but I’m used to seeing him flash that smile on TV to his Finnatics, making them hot and bothered. I trust him. I’m okay with him innocently acknowledging other women—it’s part of his public persona. However, when they’re all over him, touching him in places that only I should be, that’s when I can’t take it.
Finn Wilder is mine.
Finished with his apparent networking, he looks back at me and I give him a flirty smile, obviously gawking at him myself. He rolls his eyes and looks away from me. Is he chagrined that I caught him checking out other women or is he proud of himself checking out other women in front of me? Putting his hands on his hips, he laughs and shakes his head.
Finn embarrassed? Never.
He languidly starts walking to me, looking thoughtfully around him, as if he’s formulating a plan. I watch him approaching as he passes by the metal rails, the view of him alternatingly obscured by the vertical bars. He turns the corner and I shift my stare to the sign in front of me. Every molecule of my being is on high alert, eagerly anticipating his closeness.
With the hair on the back of my neck on end, he’s once again behind me, and for a second time, he puts his arms around my waist and his lips against my neck. My body is singing for his touch. He discreetly flicks his tongue as his lips close over my skin, doing this up to my ear. He then nips at my earlobe, causing me to harshly inhale. He repeats biting my ear several times, driving me crazy. As I continue to stare at the sign in front of me, I strive to not be too affected, since we’re openly in public. Unexpectedly, he tersely breathes into my ear, huffing in short bursts, simulating his panting during sex. I gasp and reach up to hold onto the fence.
Grasping the fence on either side of me, his lips graze my ear as he brusquely whispers, “Do you want to kiss me now, Becks?”
I swallow and wheeze, “Nope.” Be strong.
I feel his smile against me. Finn Wilder lives for one thing in life: a challenge he refuses to lose.
He pants and groans into my ear. “Oh, Hadley, baby, you’re so sexy. I want you. I don’t care who watches. I’m going to come so fucking hard inside you.” My knees nearly buckle. I quietly whimper and close my eyes.
I’m supposed to be showing him other ways than sex to be close to me. My plan is backfiring, big time. Damn it!
He whispers, “What about now?”
I nod and hoarsely say, “Yes.”
He whispers, “Good.” He slides his teeth over my ear. “Because two can play at this game.”
What?
The bastard!
He licks my jaw before he leisurely pulls away from me, while I hold onto the fence and try to calm my erratic breathing. Looking to the right, I see he’s approximately 15 feet away from me, reading the blue history sign—or pretending to. His sunglasses are back in place, covering his eyes.
Letting go of the fence, I drift along it until I’m standing beside him. Grabbing his hand, I weave my fingers in between his. He looks down at me through his sunglasses. I smile at him and rest my head against his shamrock and barbed wire tats underneath his shirt.
He slants his head above mine and doubtfully asks, “Are you still working me?”
I shake my head against his arm. “No. I just want to be with you. You can have your kiss.”
“Hmm.” His deep voice reverberates off the space between us, making my knees feel week again. “Well, they say that good things come to those who wait, so I think I’ll wait for later to claim it.”
I slowly stand straight, so I can look at him, and he moves his head back to see me. I say, “That’s so damn cute.”
His brazen grin makes a return below his sunglasses. “I know.”
I do love him cocky.
Feeling silly, I say, “I just thought of something. We’re in Fenwick Island and your name is Finn.”
I see his eyebrows pull together behind his sunglasses. “Yeah. So?”
“They sound similar.”
His lips tug to the side in perplexity. “Huh?”
“I should call you Finnwick! ” I giggle.
Even partially hidden by sunglasses, he obviously cringes. “Ugh. No you won’t.”
I try not to laugh. “But, I don’t have a nickname for you. That’s a
travesty!”
“Finn is my nickname.”
“Not to everyone else. They all think it’s your real name.”
“So?”
“You call me Becks. Why can’t I call you something else?”
“Not Finnwick. That’s so dumb.” He shakes his head and purses his lips.
I laugh again. I could never call him that with a straight face or a clear conscience.
I reach across myself, hit his arm with my free hand and scoff. “What about Becks? That’s not dumb?”
His jaw suddenly clenches. “No. It has meaning behind it.” What has him so pissy now? Jeez.
“Yeah. You gave it to me because you were mocking my mad soccer skills. How significant.”
He’s glaring at me through his sunglasses. I can feel it. He grouses, “Forget it. Finnwick is worse than my real name.”
I smile and teasingly ask, “What? Finnigan?” I make sure to caress his name with my lips. He doesn’t reply, but his jaw tightens again as his throat bobs. He seems to stare straight ahead, yet I can’t see his eyes.
Yep. Two can play at this game. Though, I was trying to make him laugh, but now he seems almost…offended. Why? What did I say? I was only joking about calling him that. He was fine until I brought up my nickname, oddly hitting a nerve. I guess if he got it tattooed on his chest, he doesn’t want to hear anyone making fun of it, including me. I have no idea what he’s thinking.
I squeeze his hand and put my head down on his arm, decidedly changing the subject. “Do you like being back in your home state?”
He runs his hand through his hair and shrugs, moving my head with his arm. “It’s alright.”
“I bet you miss home sometimes. Dover, I mean, instead of Richmond.” I stare at the blue sign in front of us, catching some of the words here and there.
“No. It doesn’t feel like home anymore. Richmond is my home.”
“Why?”
“Because home is wherever my Becks is.” Oh fuck. He’s working me.
I grumble with a smile, “That’s a bullshit line if I ever heard one.”
He moves away and I just about fall over. He asks, “Why would you think that? Honestly, that’s the truth.” His lips are pressed together. He really is pissed? I reach up and pull at his sunglasses. He takes the hint and pushes them up on top of his head, squinting for a few seconds before he focuses his sexy browns on me.
Daring the Wild Sparks Page 10
