“Finn, what— Oh Lord, keep doing that. Yes…” She spread her legs wide and reached down, sliding her fingers into his hair and holding on for dear life.
Slipping his fingers inside her, he pumped and curled them, searching for the spot he knew would make her scream. On a soft stroke, she gasped, her hips arching off the bed, and he knew he had it. So he exploited the hell out of it as he flicked his tongue against her clit. None of this slow buildup anymore. His goal was to get her to come before his damn phone went off again.
And she did.
When he sucked her clit between his lips and stroked that spot inside her, she held him close, her moans a high crescendo as she nearly pulled out his hair and pulsed against his tongue. Jesus, was there anything better than making his girl come?
Well, possibly having said girl acknowledge that she was, in fact, his. But other than that, he wasn’t so sure anything could beat it.
With a final brush of his lips against her pussy, he climbed up the length of her body, leaving kisses everywhere he could reach, stopping to spend a few solid minutes with her breasts because it’d been at least a day since he’d seen them and that was entirely too long in his book.
“How do you always do that?” she asked, still breathless from her release.
“Do what?” He brushed his lips against one of her hardened nipples while she squirmed.
“Turn things around. I wanted to drive you crazy for once, and yet I’m still the one who ended up on her back, blissed out of my mind.”
Finn could only stare at her for a moment, shocked into silence. Didn’t she realize? She drove him crazy every minute—every second—of the day, and she was worried he never was?
“Don’t you know by now you—” His phone trilled again, three beeps, one right after another. He growled, irritation getting the best of him as he snatched his phone from the makeshift nightstand—okay, TV tray. “Should’ve turned this goddamn thing off.”
“Must be somethin’ important. Missing out on a hot date?”
He raised an eyebrow as he slid his hand up her leg, tickling his fingers on the underside of her knee. “Not unless we were supposed to be on one and you didn’t tell me.”
She smiled then, a soft one meant just for him, and relaxed back against the bed. The sooner he dealt with whatever issue this was, the sooner he could be inside her.
He checked his notifications, finding a missed call and voice mail from Rory, followed by five texts. Swearing under his breath, he unlocked his screen and pulled up the messages.
Hey, I left you a voice mail as well, but I need to move up the meet time because the school’s putting together a last-minute bake sale fundraiser to help cover the Crawleys’ medical expenses from that horrible car accident. Poor family just can’t catch a break. I’d like to whip up as many things as I can to help. Can y’all do 6:30 instead?
Finn glanced at the clock. Shit, that was in fifteen minutes. He quickly scrolled through the other messages.
Can you confirm, please?
Hello?
Honestly, I hope your building isn't on fire or anything. I don’t want to leave y’all in a lurch, but this fundraiser’s important. I need to know if 6:30 works, or I have to cancel completely.
That’ll throw off your construction timeline completely, btw, but it’s up to y’all.
“Shit.” Finn ran his hands through his hair then grabbed his discarded clothes from the varying corners of his room.
“You’re leaving?” Willow propped herself up on her elbows, her face a mask of disbelief. And, sweet Jesus in heaven, the sight of her spread out like that, her breasts bouncing with every subtle movement, nearly did him in. He had half a mind to text Rory and tell her to fuck off—nicely, of course—and spend the rest of the evening with his cock buried inside Willow.
But he had to go be an adult. An adult with a raging case of blue balls.
“Your sister’s kind of a tyrant.” He pulled up his jeans, letting them hang on his hips, before slipping on his T-shirt. “If her interior skills weren't so good, I’d never continue working with her.”
“My sis—what?”
“I mean, I know she’s always been bossy, but she’s taking this bar design thing to a whole new level.”
“She does what now?”
Finn glanced up at her as he buttoned his fly. “She’s been helping with the design of the bar since our dumb asses didn’t think to hire someone. Honestly, she’s been sort of a godsend, the tyrant bit notwithstanding. She didn’t tell you?”
Willow barked out a laugh and grabbed her proffered dress from Finn. “No. And she wouldn’t. Wouldn’t want anything to taint her perfect Rory image.”
It took him a minute to figure out why working on a design would taint anything, but when the answer came, it was like a punch to the chest. “Ahh, and workin’ with the Thomas boys will do just that. Got it.” One would think after all this time, after making something of themselves and using what they now had to the betterment of the town, they wouldn’t still be reduced to the damn Thomas boys, said with such derision. That they wouldn’t be reduced simply to the trouble twins.
“Hey…” Willow must’ve heard the frustration in his voice, because she stopped the hunt for her panties and came over to him, sliding her hands up his chest and locking her fingers behind his neck. “In the eyes of Daddy? Yes. And you remember how Rory was back then, don’t you? A daddy-pleaser to a fault. She hasn’t changed—if anything, she’s gotten worse.”
Finn didn’t know if Willow was just placating him, or if she spoke the truth, but he let her words soothe him as he gripped her hips, his cock twitching when he didn’t come across any panty lines. “Aren’t you always telling me she’s constantly lookin’ to catch you doing something wrong?”
“Yeah. I swear I think it’s her life’s mission some days.”
“Well…” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Now’s your chance to return the favor.”
“How do you mean?”
“Since she didn’t tell you she was helpin’ out, I’m guessing it’s because she doesn’t want you to know. And she’ll be here in ten minutes…”
Willow’s eyes widened, then a knowing grin spread across her face. “You’re a genius.”
When she let go of him and strode toward her panties, he caught her hand to stop her. “Leave ’em off.”
She breathed out a laugh, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “You can’t possibly be serious.”
He tugged her back until she stood in front of him. Placed her hand over his aching cock. “I’m still hard for you, Willowtree. Won’t you give me this one tiny thing?”
Finn knew the moment he had her. Her shoulders relaxed, and she melted into him a little, her hand gently stroking against the fly of his jeans.
“You, sir, are definitely the bad influence, not me.”
“You love it.”
For the first time in way too damn long, the look she gave him said she might not just yet, but maybe…maybe someday she could.
And for now, someday was enough.
Willow stood in the corner of the open space as Nola, Drew, and Finn all conferred about deadlines and schedules and shipments and everything that still needed to happen before the soft opening around the Fourth of July. She stood off to the side because, for one thing, it wasn’t her venture. For another, she didn’t know a single thing about what they were talking about. But mostly it was because she wasn’t wearing panties under her dress, and that somehow made her feel naked, even though she was perfectly covered. Never mind the fact that her body still tingled from Finn’s ministrations, and even though she’d already come, she still ached with need for him. She’d never felt like this before, had never had this unquenchable thirst with any of her past lovers. But, then again, nothing was ever quite like it’d been with Finn.
And that had always been the problem.
“Honestly, I can handle everything just fine, thank you very much.” The
voice of a snooty princess dialed up to eleven echoed through the space as the back door swung open. Apparently, Rory had arrived.
She stepped into the room, followed closely by Nash, who seemed to ignore her completely and take most of the oversized samples from her arms.
“Didn’t you listen to a word I said?”
“Sure did.”
Rory huffed. “Oh, really? Then why did you—”
“Y’all about ready to get this started?” Nash called to the trio of owners by the newly completed bar top.
“That was rude, Nash King.” Rory swept past him, shoulder checking him in the chest as she went. “And I won’t forget it.”
“Don’t imagine you will.” He swept out his hand in a gesture that said the floor was all hers. “If you’re ready, princess.”
From Willow’s place off to the side, she could just make out her sister’s narrowed eyes and stifled a laugh. Rory didn’t take well to people talking back to her, and Willow loved Nash all the more that he couldn’t seem to care less.
“There a problem, y’all?” Nola asked.
Rory plastered on a smile. “No, no problem at all.” She strode to where Finn, Drew, and Nola all stood, seeming to ignore Nash completely as he hung back, his arms folded over his chest. “All right, now I know y’all are on a tight timeline, so I only focused on products that aren’t special order to speed up delivery times.” She grabbed a few pieces from the stack Nash had dropped off and arranged them on the bar top. “It’s a shame because doing so cut our choices down quite a bit, but I think—” Rory broke off when her eyes finally landed on Willow. “Will, what—”
Four heads swiveled in her direction, Nash being the only other one who didn’t already know she was there. She pushed off from the wall and strolled over to the bar, surveying the products on display. Dammit, Rory was good at design, if her thoughtful choices were any indication. Couldn’t she be bad at anything?
“Well, hey, Rory. Fancy meetin’ you here.”
“What—” Rory cleared her throat, ran a hand down the wrinkle-free silk of her camisole, and darted her eyes to their audience before snapping them back to Willow. “Could I speak with you for a moment, please?”
Without waiting for Willow’s answer, Rory grabbed her by the elbow and tugged her into a corner out of earshot from the others as they all looked on with amused expressions. Finn shot her a wink and a smile before turning around and responding to something Drew had said.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” Rory said, hand smoothing over her perfect chignon.
Willow raised a brow. “No? So it’s not you helping out the owners of Havenbrook’s very first bar, somethin’ Daddy would absolutely despise?”
“What? No, never. I’m here…” She trailed off then leaned closer, her voice dropping low. “Well, I’m here keepin’ an eye on things for him, actually. He asked me to—”
“Cut the shit, Rory. Finn already told me.”
She froze and blinked, either from Willow’s choice of language or what she’d revealed. Finally, Rory huffed and crossed her arms. “All right then, you caught me. But that doesn’t answer the question of what, exactly, you’re doing here.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t. But you’ve always been the smart one, so I’m sure you can figure it out.”
Rory glanced over Willow’s shoulder toward Finn, a single, perfectly shaped brow lifting in question. “Have to say I’m surprised you’re okay with me knowing about that. You don’t exactly share things freely with me.”
Willow would have to be oblivious not to hear the hurt in her sister’s voice, but she’d played this game too many times before to fall for it. She snorted and rolled her eyes. “And I wonder why that is, Miss Perfect. Sisterly bonds never meant much to you so long as whatever dirt you had on us got you in Daddy’s good graces. I can’t count the number of times you tattled on the three of us. And it looks like that’s comin’ back to bite you in the ass.”
Rory’s back went ramrod straight. “Wait just a second, now. You don’t have to go tellin’ Daddy.”
“I suppose I don’t. But in that same breath, neither do you. Mutually assured destruction is so sisterly, don’t you think?”
“You can’t ask me to lie to Daddy.”
“No? Great, then I’m sure he’ll be very happy to learn his eldest and most perfect daughter’s been helping his nemesis and the rest of the people he thinks will ruin his fine town. Can’t wait to tell him all about it!” Willow spun around, her sights on the door, though she hoped with everything she had Rory would stop her. Tattling on her sisters wasn’t her style, but if she had to use it for leverage to get Rory to agree not to do the same, then so be it.
She wasn’t quite ready for her daddy to find out what she’d been getting up to with Finn again. Not when they were so close to the Fourth of July parade and her big yearly event. Not when he’d finally given her praise. Not when he was close to finally recognizing her worth around town, seeing that she brought something of value to their namesake. In her daddy’s eyes, being tangled up with Finn would only damage that, despite the fact that she’d been doing her job just fine.
Rory didn’t let her get three steps before she wrapped her fingers around Willow’s arm and tugged her back. “Fine. But if I’m gonna be lyin’ to Daddy, then I better get somethin’ else outta this.”
It was probably too much to ask that her sister just do it out of the goodness of her heart. She’d participate in every fundraiser under the sun, be the first to pass around a get-well card or send a casserole over to a new momma, but she didn’t have quite the same generosity toward her sisters. Baby steps, and all that.
“Bonding with your sister isn’t enough?”
Rory rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. Just…we can help each other, all right? Cover for each other, maybe, if we need to.”
Willow tried and failed to keep her mouth from dropping open. “You, Aurora Jane, first daughter of Mayor Richard Haven of Havenbrook, want to strike up…a lying bargain?”
“Well, you don’t have to make it sound so scandalous. I just thought—”
“Deal.” Willow grabbed Rory’s hand and shook it before she could offer any stipulations. “Fair warning: I’m telling Mac.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Why not? You’re going to tell Sean. I don’t have a husband, so Mac it is.”
Rory’s body language went cold as she snapped her mouth shut and averted her eyes.
Odd. “Hey, is everything—”
“Fine, you can tell Mac. But absolutely not Nat. I have to draw the line somewhere. Girl’s got a mouth bigger than an eighteen-wheeler, and she doesn’t care who knows her business—or ours.”
“Agreed.”
With a clipped nod, Rory stalked back toward the group waiting by the bar, immediately diving into a spiel about stone samples for the front of the bar surround and matching it with an accent wall to give it a nice pop.
Well, that was easier than she’d thought it’d be. Half of her expected Rory to recant on their agreement and run off midsentence, straight to their parents’ house, and spill everything that’d make Willow’s life a living hell. But she was going on a bit of blind faith here. This was a chance for her and Rory to grow closer, and she got the distinct feeling her sister needed it even more than she did.
As Rory spoke, Willow sidled up next to Finn, no longer able to deny the relief she felt whenever another person found out about the two of them. It made her giddy…and a little foolish. Reaching out, she hooked her finger around his pinkie. He slid her a look, his lips tipping up at the corners at what could be considered the subtlest touch by anyone’s definition. But to Willow, her pinkie hooked in his felt like a proclamation from a mountaintop.
She wasn’t quite ready for that. Wasn’t sure she’d ever be. Not when Finn was still leaving and heading back to California. But maybe it was okay in this small circle of people—people Finn trusted. And if Willow couldn’t trust
her sister to have her back, she had more problems than the fury her daddy would rain down on her if he ever found out she was tangled up with one of the Thomas boys again.
Rory glanced over then, cutting off midsentence as her eyes dipped to where Willow’s finger was hooked in Finn’s. For the briefest moment, Willow swore she saw longing cross her sister’s face. A second later, the perfect Rory mask was back in place, and all was right in the world.
WILLOW SAT ON HER PARENTS’ back porch swing, her sisters flanking her. They’d gotten a bit of a reprieve from the heat wave, and a nice breeze—warm as it was—made the evening June air almost tolerable, especially with the chorus of cicadas singing and frogs croaking, the sounds of her childhood making her feel at home. Their weekly family dinners were as carved in stone as the girls’ lunches, and the four of them—three, now that Nat had left—had always sat outside after supper and cleanup. It’d been the one time they felt close, even if they weren’t.
After a few moments, Mac finally broke the silence. “Can’t quite figure it out, Rory.”
Rory stiffened but kept on her calm-as-a-cucumber mask. “What’s that?”
Mac leaned forward so she could see Rory around Willow. “Why you’re helpin’ the Thomas boys. And don’t worry—I’m not gonna rat you out.” Mac rolled her eyes as though the idea were ridiculous. Which it was, especially from Mac—she was the most loyal person Willow had ever known.
Rory was quiet for a minute, just the creaking of the porch swing filling the silence. “I’m… I’ve been thinkin’ about maybe using my degree.”
Second Chance Charmer Page 18
