by Zoe York
“Look at you, taking me so deep. That sweet, pretty pussy spreading wide around my cock.” He turned, pressed his lips to her ankle. “Tell me how much you love it.”
“So, so much,” she managed to get out through panting breaths.
He stared at where they were joined, his thumb brushing in a mindless pattern against her hip. Except when she glanced down, he wasn’t tracing something random on her skin. And he wasn’t watching where he disappeared inside her. Instead, his thumb traced the sparrow at her hip, his eyes locked on it, lips parted.
She reached out, brushing her fingers down the wispy leaves of the willow tree on his side. Caressing each winding path of the roots. Her heart swelled as she split her gaze between those black marks on his skin and his focused stare on her tattoo, the reverent way he traced the mark, the soft words of adoration spilling from his lips.
And hell. She’d known this would happen. There hadn’t been a doubt in her mind when he’d come back, when he’d focused his attention on her, that they’d end up here. That she’d end up here. In love with a Thomas boy who wasn’t going to stick around.
She was so screwed.
Finn rocked into Willow, a slow roll of his hips, wanting to do everything in his power to prolong the pleasure of being inside her. She traced his tattoo with her fingertips and shot sparks off under his skin, hardening his cock even more.
For years, he’d imagined this—had hoped he might one day be with her again, but he’d never actually thought it’d happen. He couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to be experiencing this with her again. That she’d not only let him inside, but welcomed him. Time and time again.
It was, quite literally, his dream come true.
On a sharp thrust, Willow curled her fingers against his side, her nails digging in as her eyelids fluttered closed and a moan slipped from her lips. He couldn’t help how his cock swelled at the proof of how much pleasure he brought her. That he was the one wringing those moans from her, the one she squeezed with that tight as hell pussy.
“Is it good, sweetness?”
“Oh Lord. So good.” She dug her nails into his side, trying to pull him closer.
He bent forward, pushing her leg toward her chest and opening her up to take him even deeper, eliciting a gasp from her. “You okay, Willowtree?” He pulled nearly all the way out before sliding inside, a slow glide of skin on skin, the tight fist of her pussy nearly driving him out of his goddamn mind.
“Don’t stop.”
“Never,” he promised, meaning it more than she could know. He was never, ever going to stop with her. Not again. He’d made that mistake once, and it would haunt him for the rest of his life, even if she did take him back for good. And, just like his brother had pointed out to him, he’d spend every day for as long as he was breathing trying to make it up to her. Proving his love. Because it was real and true, and he wanted her to feel it. To know it. To never, ever doubt it.
“Finn—” She cut off on a moan, her eyelids fluttering closed as she pulsed an erratic beat around his cock. “I’m gonna…”
“Come all over me, I know.” He hummed low in his throat and kept up his rhythm, making sure he grazed her clit with every deep thrust. Making sure to keep her on edge, push her right where she needed to go. “You’re gonna strangle my cock, aren’t you?”
She gasped and opened her eyes just as her pussy tightened around him, staring straight at him while she started to come. Dropping her leg from his shoulder to hook over his elbow, she pulled him closer, fusing their mouths together as she reached her climax.
It didn’t take but three more thrusts into her pulsing heat before he pushed deep and spilled inside her, her name moaned between them as they kissed through it all. His heart full to bursting.
Later, they faced each other, Finn in his jeans and Willow wearing nothing but his shirt. Doing a damn good job of driving him crazy. She sat with her legs crisscrossed, which meant if he looked—which he was trying hard not to—he’d see all that gorgeous pink heaven between her legs. But if he went down that path, he’d be fucking her on the floor of the tree house again, and he’d be no better than his nineteen-year-old self.
He was desperately trying to be better than his nineteen-year-old self.
“I’m going to start to think this is the only thing you can make.” Willow bit into the peanut butter and banana sandwich he’d brought. It didn’t exactly pair with her favorite red or the candy bar—also her favorite—that was waiting for dessert, but this wasn’t about an exquisite culinary experience. It was about showing Willow he knew her—then and now. He listened when she spoke, and he remembered everything about her.
He smiled over the rim of his wine glass. “I better rectify that soon, then. Name the day, Willowtree, and I’ll cook you a three-course meal.”
“Will one of those courses be these sandwiches?” She held up the sandwich in question, her brow cocked.
“I see the skepticism written all over your beautiful face, sweetness. You wound me.”
She laughed, a tinkling sound that filled up the intimate space. “Sorry, I don’t mean to tease. It’s just hard.”
He raised a brow, because, yeah, he was definitely hard. Had been even though it’d been less than half an hour since he’d come inside her.
She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “I have no doubt you’re hard. Honestly, are you ever not?”
“When you’re around? No.”
“What I meant was it’s hard picturing you, wearing an apron and flittin’ around the kitchen.”
“I do not flit. I stomp around like a manly man.” Finn finished off his sandwich as Willow laughed. “And if you want to know about the apron, you’ll just have to accept my invitation.”
The statement was innocent enough, but it hung between them, weighted. By the look on Willow’s face, she realized exactly what he was asking. Her inviting him here was an olive branch. That she’d share this with him again after what’d happened last time meant more than he could articulate. He just hoped it was a step toward what he wanted with her: permanence and public declarations.
“I…” Willow averted her eyes as she took a sip of wine, and his heart dropped. She wasn’t going to accept, and Finn would have to decide if he was okay with that. If he could live with taking whatever small bit she could give, whenever she could give it.
The answer, of course, was an unequivocal yes. Without doubt, he’d take whatever she was willing to give him.
“Okay.” Her soft voice filtered into the space between them, and Finn jerked his head up, snapping his eyes to hers. She was already staring at him, looking gorgeous as hell, even more stunning now that she’d basically said yes. Yes, to him. Yes, to them.
Unable to hold back anymore, he shoved everything between them aside, slid his hand around her neck, and brought her face to his, claiming her mouth in a kiss.
“I won’t let you down,” he said when they finally pulled apart. He meant more than just the meal—he only hoped she realized it.
She trailed her hand down from his neck to his chest, tracing the rough sketch of a map and the coordinates that just happened to be this exact location. “Will you tell me about these?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything?” She dropped her fingers to the willow tree on his side. “It’s weird, feeling like I still know you so well but having this gaping hole in time where I know nothing.”
His chest ached, regret over costing them so much time nearly consuming him. “I know what you mean.”
“Question for a question?” she asked, reminding him of a time long ago when she’d sat in his beat-up truck and said the same thing.
“You first.” He shifted to lean back against a stack of pillows and lifted his arm, hoping she’d settle in to his side.
She didn’t disappoint. Once she’d snuggled in, she traced one of the twisted roots over his hip bone. “There are more roots here than when you left. So many more.”
She pinched his side and tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “Tell me about it?”
Reaching up, he brushed the hair back from her face, stroked his fingertip down the slope of her nose, around the outline of her lips. “That first year…” He swallowed, averted his gaze, and guided her head to rest on his chest again. Thinking it’d be easier if she wasn’t staring at him with those beseeching eyes. “On your nineteenth birthday, I was in a bad place. I fuckin’ missed you. Every day, but especially that day. I passed a tattoo parlor on my way home, and I didn’t even think—just pulled in. Hoped like hell they had an opening. I got the first root added that night. The others happened every year on your birthday.”
She was quiet for a moment, then she whispered, “Why?”
Would it be too much to tell her it was the only thing he’d had of her when he’d been gone? That he’d craved that connection, even when he’d been the one to sever it? Probably.
“Uh, uh. My turn, sweetness.”
She huffed, pinching his side again. “Well, come on, then.”
There was really no question what he wanted to ask. The same thing he’d been desperate to know since he’d found out she’d moved back to Havenbrook after college. “Why’re you back here, Willowtree? Why didn’t you go to Nashville and do what we planned? Are you as happy here as you would’ve been there?”
“You think if you shove three questions together real fast it’ll only count as one?”
“Umm…I was sorta hopin’ it’d work like that, yeah.”
“Cheater.” She didn’t put any heat into the insult, though. “I’m here because it’s my home, and leavin’—much as I yearned for it then—felt…wrong. And, yes, I’m happy. For the most part. I have good days and bad days, same as anyone, I suppose. But I really do love what I do—or I do when I’m not doin’ the work of three people. Revitalizing the square…” She shook her head against his chest, her deep breath brushing across his skin. “Seeing it come to life because of what I did? It’s like a living, breathing canvas.”
He waited for her to answer why she’d hadn’t gone to Nashville like they’d planned, but when she didn’t, he nudged her. “And?”
“And…it’s your turn for a question.” She turned on her side and propped herself up on her elbow, using her other hand to trace the numbers over his heart. “Coordinates?”
He swallowed, watching her as she stared at his skin. True, he’d only added to her tree on her birthday, but every other tattoo he had on him was a tribute to her in some way. The map and coordinates reminding him where his home was. The compass because she was his true north. “Yeah.”
“Of what?” She looked up at him then, her lip caught between her teeth.
Reaching out, he tugged her lip free, brushed his thumb across it. “This. Here.”
“Here?” She furrowed her brow. “The tree house?”
“The one and only.”
Her mouth dropped open, her eyes full of something he couldn’t quite name. “Finn—”
“My turn. Tell me about Nashville.”
She looked like she wanted to argue, wanted to press, but then she shrugged, dropping her gaze. “Nothing to tell. You left. I withdrew my admission and went to MSU instead.”
“Because?”
“Because…what I thought I wanted wasn’t the same without you there too.”
Damn, this hurt. Getting all this out in the open was good for them, but he couldn’t deny the way his stomach clenched over all the time they’d lost. All because of the decisions he’d made—decisions he hadn’t been given much choice over, but his all the same.
“I’m sorry, Willowtree.” He cupped her neck, needing to feel her any way he could. “Even though it won’t give us back the time we lost, I want you to know I’m sorry. And not a day went by when I didn’t think about you. About coming back to you.”
She stared at him for a moment then opened her mouth, no doubt to ask why the hell he didn’t. Before she could do so, he pulled her toward him. Pressed his lips to hers and waited for her to melt into him. Hoping with everything he had that her doing so meant maybe, just maybe, forgiveness would come eventually.
After round two where Finn had taken Willow nice and slow, trying to show her in every kiss, every roll of his hips how much he still loved her, he walked her to her house, their fingers linked between them. It’d been a long damn time since he’d done something as simple as holding hands—in fact, the last time had probably been with Willow.
Considering how much they’d shared in the tree house, it was no wonder they walked the path in silence until they got to her front porch, the soft glow of the outside light illuminating her face.
“Thank you,” she said, her finger hooked in his belt loop. “For tonight.”
“Anytime.” He curled his fingers around her nape, brushing his thumb along her jaw as he pulled her in for a kiss. Their lips met with a spark, that always-evident chemistry between them coming to life as he slid his tongue along hers, pulled her body tight against him.
Jesus, how could he be ready to go again? This girl drove him absolutely fucking crazy in the best possible ways.
Panting, she broke away and dropped her forehead to his chest, her hands resting on either side, his shirt clutched in her fists. Well, one thing was for certain—she was just as affected as he was.
“You should go inside before I take you right here on the porch for anyone to see.” He ran his hands down the length of her back as her laugh puffed against his T-shirt.
“I know I should be scandalized by that, but is it bad that I’m actually considering it?”
He groaned, fisting her tank top at the small of her back and tugging her against him. Letting her feel how hard he was for her. “That’s just cruel, woman. Don’t tease a man in this state.”
She laughed, a tinkling sound, and looked up at him just as the front door swung open. Mac stood on the other side, mouth hanging open, eyes pinging back and forth between her sister and him.
“What the hell?”
Finn’s lips quirked up at the corner. “Hey, Mac. Havin’ a good night?”
“I… Um…” She narrowed her eyes before settling them on Willow and giving her what could only be interpreted as a “we’ll talk later” look. Then she walked away, leaving the door wide open.
So much for the whole against-the-house scenario.
“Seems y’all have some talkin’ to do, so I’ll leave you to it.” He pulled Willow close, pressing a soft, chaste kiss on her lips. Against them, he whispered, “’Night, Willowtree. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He walked backward, their fingers clasped between them until he couldn’t hold on any longer, and then he turned and strolled toward his truck near the front of the property. Leaving was the last thing he wanted to do. Hell, if he had it his way, she’d invite him into her home, into her room, into her bed. He’d spend the night with her, wake her up in the middle of the night with his lips on her, spend an hour inside her, then wake for the day with her in his arms. Pure heaven. Something they’d never had the luxury of doing, but something he wanted to experience almost as much as he wanted his next breath.
Someday. Someday, she’d trust him with that. Maybe. Hopefully. Especially after what they’d talked about tonight. Someday—maybe even sooner rather than later—they’d get to be a couple like that. He could stay at her place, or she could stay at his. They’d wake up, head down to the square, and grab breakfast at the diner. Everyone would look, of course. But she and Finn wouldn’t care. Hell, he’d be damn glad for all the gawking, because it’d mean Willow was his girl for the entire town to see.
So lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until he nearly tripped over Willow’s daddy. Dick stood off to the side, rage written all over his face. And, shit, wasn’t this just his
tory repeating itself? The last time Finn had made this trek, Dick had stopped him then too. Face as pissed as it was now, spitting fire and threats.
Difference was, Finn was no longer that scared, nineteen-year-old kid with a sick momma and not a whole lot of hope for the future. Now? Now, he had that hope in spades.
“Evenin’, Dick. What can I do for you?”
“What can you do for me? You can tell me what the hell you’re doin’ on my property before I call the sheriff to haul your ass off for trespassin’.”
Finn cocked his head. A voice whispered that he shouldn’t taunt the man, shouldn’t rub what he’d been doing in his face. But pride was a bitch sometimes, and the satisfaction of pissing him off was too good to pass up. “Been a while, but I think you’ll probably remember if you try hard enough.”
Dick delivered the reaction Finn had wanted, his face reddening, hands curled into fists at his sides. Finn could practically see the smoke emanating from the older man’s ears, and he couldn’t say he was even a bit sorry about it. While Finn wouldn’t go back and change the events that’d led to him leaving—because without them, his momma may not…probably wouldn’t…have been with them now—but he couldn’t help hating Dick for tearing him and Willow apart. For not even allowing him to tell her goodbye.
“I don’t know what you’re up to here,” Dick said, “but you best finish what you came for and leave. Before I make you. You remember how that goes, don’t you, boy?”
Boy? Finn hadn’t been a boy in a long damn time—since well before he’d left in the first place. He laughed, a loud booming sound in the otherwise quiet night. “Guess you haven’t heard the news.”
“What news?”
Oh, this was going to make his whole year. Watching Dick’s face as Finn delivered the information that would ruin his precious little town—at least, in his eyes. “We’re stayin’.”
“You’re what?”
“C’mon now, Dick, I know you heard me. Despite you trying your damnedest to run us out with all that red tape nonsense and bullshit regulations, we’re not goin’ anywhere. We’re making Havenbrook home again.”
