Finally, You (The Finally Book Duo 2)

by Burke, Roseanne

  We? That must be the whiskey talking.

  "Ok, your turn again," I said. I had a feeling he wouldn't let me just fall asleep.

  "Alright. I grew up around here, with two younger brothers. What about you? Did you always live here?"

  Ooh, way too personal. I tried to answer as nonchalantly as possible. "No, I actually just moved here in April from Minneapolis. I have one older sister, who still lives there."

  "Oh yeah? What brought you here?" he asked as his hand started brushing my hair off my neck.

  I yawned, trying to think up a lie as well as hint at the fact that I wanted to go to sleep. "Just wanted to try something new, that's all."

  "Hmm," he said.

  I rolled my head back slightly. "What is hmm?"

  "Oh nothing. Just that I know there's gotta be more to that story. But I'll wait until you're ready to tell me."

  That almost knocked the wind out of me. Where did he get off saying that to me? Time to deflect. "No, no story. What about you, though? Why have you lived in the same town your whole life? That's weirder to me than deciding to move as an adult."

  He paused for a second. "Well, I've just always needed to be here for my brothers. Ever since our mom died when I was eleven, I've been kind of their rock, their joker, their supporter. You name it, I was it for them."

  Oh my god. I didn't know what to say. "I'm so sorry," I whispered.

  He sighed again, squeezing his arms around me gently. "Yeah, it was tough, but we made it through. And they're both fine now. Chris is twenty-one and Dan is nineteen, both in college, doing well. But now I'm settled here with my job. It has all worked out, I think."

  I still wasn't sure what to say. My heart softened for him a bit. Is this why he was always trying to crack stupid jokes? He felt like he needed to always lift other people's spirits?

  "Well that's good," I said finally.

  We laid quietly for a few more moments before I said, "Ok, you're right. There's a story. But I'm not quite ready to talk about it."

  I felt his nose nuzzle my hair. "See, I'm always right."

  "Oh you are, are you?" I laughed. I slipped my hand up, intertwining our fingers. It really did feel nice just being with him.

  "Yep."

  "Ok then, what else should I know about you, other than you're always right?"

  "Well there's just so much; I have so much depth," he answered jokingly.

  I giggled. "Favorite drink then. I know you were drinking whiskey earlier."

  "Yeah, I was. I typically go with Glenlivet. Scotch whiskey. But I'm a fan of Blue Label on special occasions. What about you?"

  Should I tell him about my habit with tequila? "Usually I like to drink vodka sodas. Belvedere is my favorite. But I like to do shots of tequila sometimes, too." Practically daily.

  "Tequila, huh?"

  "Yeah, I know. Not usually anyone's favorite."

  His hand moved up and down, feeling my breasts. "Funny, I don't feel any hair on your chest."

  "Ha ha," I laughed. "What's your tequila story?"

  "Tequila story?"

  "Yes, everyone has a tequila story. You know, the story why you just can't drink tequila anymore," I giggled.

  "Ah, I see. Yes, everyone certainly does have a tequila story. Mine happened in college. It was Cinco de Mayo."

  "That's typically how these stories begin," I smiled.

  He chuckled. "It was Cinco de Mayo, my senior year."

  "Senior year? You should've known better at that point!" I cried.

  "I could finish if someone would stop interrupting me," he admonished, squeezing my hand.

  "Sorry," I giggled. I pressed my lips together, trying to seal them shut.

  "As I was saying, it was Cinco de Mayo, my senior year of college. I had done way too many shots throughout the evening, and I just puked and puked all night. I woke up naked, and I had been sleeping with my head on the toilet seat. Not the lid, the actual seat."

  "Gross!" I exclaimed. "How could you fall asleep on a toilet seat? Like how is that physically possible? And why were you naked?"

  "I have no idea," he answered, shaking his head.

  I burst out laughing. "Alright, good tequila story."

  "What about you? What's your tequila story? Meaning, why do you like to drink tequila?" he asked.

  "Oh, I just really like the taste," I lied.

  He snickered. "No way. No one likes Jose Cuervo. They like what Jose does to them."

  "Oh yeah? What does Jose do?"

  "Helps you forget."

  Those three words sent chills up my spine. He seemed incredibly insightful. It was throwing me off.

  "Well maybe people have things they'd like to forget," I muttered quietly.

  "Is this part of that story you're not willing to tell me yet?"

  I sighed. "Maybe."

  "Ok, new topic then. You mentioned you had a sister. What's she like? Are you guys close?"

  I smiled, appreciating him changing the subject. "Yeah, we're pretty close. She's two years older than me, but has everything in her life figured out. She's married, has a good job, is trying to get pregnant, lives in a nice house. She always did things the 'right' way."

  "What does that mean?" he asked quietly. "What's the 'right' way to do things?"

  "Oh you know, go to college, get a good job, then get married, then have a kid. There's a system you're supposed to follow. I'm twenty-five, I didn't go to college, I serve people drinks for a living, and I live by myself in a tiny apartment. Not exactly the picture of success." Ouch, my own words stung me.

  "Hey now. I didn't realize that twenty-five was the age when everything was supposed to be settled and done by. According to your standards, I'm lagging behind too. I'm twenty-seven and I live by myself in an apartment." His voice was soft, as he brought his hand back up to my hair. His touch was surprisingly soothing.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to apply that to you. I just sometimes feel a little inferior when it comes to her, that's all." Why was I spilling my guts? You'd think I'd feel more comfortable with anonymity, but being myself around him was coming really easily.

  "Well, I bet she's not as hot as you," he teased, tickling my ribs.

  "Oh, you think I'm hot, huh?" I shifted around so that I was facing him. He adjusted his arm on top of me; our faces were just a few inches apart on our pillows.

  He gave me an admonishing look. "You have to know how fucking gorgeous you are."

  I smiled, biting my lower lip. "Maybe."

  "Maybe? Do I need to convince you?" he asked. I suddenly felt his hardness pressing against my leg.

  Time for round two.

  Chapter 10

  Three a.m.

  His hand wrapped around the back of my head, forcing my lips to meet his. It had only been an hour, but I couldn't wait to be with him again. I placed my hand on his chest. Jesus, those muscles. I pushed him so he was laying on his back. I swung my leg over his torso as his hands grabbed my hips, pulling me to straddle him. His sturdy thighs bumped against me as he slid his underwear down his legs. I bent back over, greedily devouring his mouth. I just wanted to kiss him over and over.

  I was still wet from before, but I felt it increasing as I grinded against his skin. His tip was so near my entrance, and yet, so far. I knew we needed to put on a condom, but I hated to break up what we were doing. Apparently, the same thought crossed his mind.

  "Fuck, do you have a condom?" he asked, gasping for breath.

  I brought his mouth back to mine. God, I didn't want to stop.

  "Mm-hmm," I moaned into his mouth.

  His hands ran up my back, tugging my hair, pulling my mouth away from his. "Go get it. I cannot wait to fuck you again."

  Shit. I climbed off him and found my jeans, retrieving the condom. I ripped open the package and swiftly crawled back onto the bed. I grabbed his hardness in my hand, locking eyes with him as I rolled it over his thick erection. I smiled as I mounted him, guiding him to my sex. It was such a heady feeling,
being in control this time. I rested one hand up against the wall as I slid down over his hardness. This was a totally new sensation; he felt even deeper than before. I cried out in surprise as he pushed into me fully.

  "Go slow, please," I moaned. "You're just so big."

  His eyes darkened as his hands grabbed my hips, helping me to rock slowly.

  I realized that was the first time I had said those words and actually meant them.

  "Is this ok?" he asked, biting his lip.

  I felt my body starting to relax. "Ah, yes, more than ok," I moaned.

  A smile crept across his face. With my body's permission, he started to rock me faster. That was feeling incredible. I placed both my hands against the wall, giving me the perfect amount of leverage to press into him the way I needed to. His hands moved to my breasts, toying with my nipples.

  "Yes, keep doing that," I cried. It just amplified what I was feeling down below.

  "God, Shannon, your tits are so fucking perfect," he growled.

  I grinned. They were my best assets.

  His hands traveled down my body and around to my ass, assisting me to rock even faster. My clit was rubbing against him perfectly yet again; there was that orgasm approaching. We continued to move together, quicker and quicker. I realized I had adjusted to his size even faster than I had the first time. I felt so full, aching for my release. Everything about this was so intense. I glanced down at him. Seeing the lustful look in his eyes made me crazy. That was all I needed to tip me over the edge, spiraling into an absolutely insane orgasm. I had to hold myself up against the wall for support as I cried out.

  He continued to slam into me as I struggled to catch my breath, my heart pounding. I was completely overwhelmed with the feeling of him inside me. I wanted the same for him. Faster and harder he moved until I heard him groan in ecstasy, his face contorting with pleasure. I secretly smiled into the wall; I really loved knowing I had done that to him.

  His hands moved from my ass, up my back, pulling me down to him. I lay on his chest with him still inside me. I could hear his heart thudding rapidly. For some reason, hearing his heart beating felt like the most intimate thing I had done with him. It was so honest. I continued just laying there, listening to it gradually slow back down to normal. His fingers danced along my spine, rubbing me, soothing me. I nuzzled my head into his neck.

  "That felt amazing," he whispered, kissing my cheek.

  I grinned, and even though it was dark, I knew I was blushing. "Yeah, it did." He thought I felt amazing. If anyone was amazing, it was him.

  I shifted myself to the side, allowing him to remove the condom.

  "Be right back," he smiled as he sat up, exiting the room.

  Here I was again, alone with my thoughts. What was going on here? This was still just a casual hookup, right? Surely now we would just pass out, and in the morning I would wake up, leave, and potentially see him again just because of the common friends we had. It wouldn't be a big deal.

  He came back in the room with a grin on his face, then slid back under the blankets behind me. I was completely caught off guard when he kissed the back of my head, resting his arm over me, spooning me again.

  "So what do you think about those two? Ben and Lacey?" he asked.

  Seriously? More conversation?

  "I think they're adorable. I really hope they get together. Johnny and I have been trying to make this happen since she started there."

  "Ha, really?" he asked.

  "Yeah. They both just got out of shitty relationships, and they both deserve to be happy," I answered. I hesitated for a second before saying, "You know Ben's ex was cheating on him, right?"

  "Yeah, he told me. Fucking bitch." So he did find out.

  "I saw her a couple weeks ago, going into the Millennium Hotel with another guy. I wasn't sure if I should say anything, but it obviously worked out in the end."

  "Seriously? What a fucking slut. I never liked her anyway." He seemed genuinely upset about it, which tugged at my heart.

  "Why not?"

  "She was always so fake. And into Ben for the wrong reasons. I just hope this Lacey is trustworthy. How long have you known her?"

  "Well, she just started at the bar, but she's super innocent. I know she's totally into him," I answered.

  "That's good. I just worry about him after what he just went through, that's all." Mr. Tough Exterior apparently had a soft side.

  "Aw, you're worried about your friend," I teased.

  He bent down and bit my shoulder.

  "Ah hey! What was that for?" I cried, rubbing my stinging skin.

  "For teasing me. Ben's my bro," he said matter-of-factly.

  "Oh your bro?" I laughed. "I didn't realize people still used that word. And how long have you known your bro?"

  "Since freshman year of high school, so going on fourteen years," he answered.

  "Aw, what were you like back then? Popular? A jock? A nerd?" I giggled. I definitely pictured him as some popular jock, with a new girl on his arm every week.

  "Oh, a jock for sure. I played lacrosse."

  Suddenly, the thought of him sweaty and in the shower crossed my mind.

  "Lacrosse, huh? So I guess that means you're good with a stick?" What was wrong with me? It was like his sense of humor was rubbing off on me.

  "Well, you tell me. Am I good with a stick?" he teased.

  I grinned into the darkness. Better than anyone I had been with recently. Or ever, really. But I wasn't about to tell him that. "I suppose," I replied.

  "Oh you suppose, huh?" I could hear the grin in his voice. He had to know how good he was.

  "Yeah, I think I need more experience to make a definitive decision," I replied, immediately wishing I could take back my words. How would he interpret what I just said? I meant tonight, not another night from now. I didn't want him to think I was planning dates or anything for us.

  "I think that can be arranged," he purred.

  I felt my groin start to tingle with anticipation.

  "What were your extracurricular activities in high school?" he asked, distracting me from my explicit thoughts.

  I always told randoms I was a cheerleader; it seemed to knock their socks off. But with him, I found myself wanting to be honest. "Um, actually, I was the president of the German club." I cowered slightly, waiting for his response.

  "German, huh? Sprechen Sie Deutsch?" he laughed.

  I giggled. "Ja."

  "That's hot. German is a sexy language."

  I burst out laughing. "No, it's not!"

  "Ok, no it's not. But it is kind of sexy knowing that you speak it. Say something in German," he prodded.

  My mind raced. What could I say? "It's been a while; I've forgotten a lot."

  He pushed me playfully. "Come on, you have to remember something."

  I thought for a moment, then said, "Ich habe meine zehne ausgenommen, und ich weiss nicht wo ich habe dem gelegen haben."

  He chuckled into my hair. "And what does that mean?"

  I grinned. "I have taken out my teeth and I do not know where I have put them."

  "Seriously?" he laughed.

  I giggled. "Yeah, seriously."

  "That is awesome. Will you teach me that sometime?"

  My heart fluttered for a second. He was just saying that to be nice. He didn't expect "some other time," right?

  "Yeah, sure," I answered.

  His hand started to rub up and down my arm gently. "So what else? What other interests do you have?"

  I sighed inwardly. Drinking was the only thing on my list these days. Drinking and hooking up with random men. Ugh, when you actually put it into words, it didn't sound that great.

  "Honestly, these days, I'm really into working," I responded. I work at a bar, close enough to the truth. "What about you? Do you still play lacrosse?"

  He snickered. "No, those days are long over. I still get exercise, but just by going to the gym like every other boring meathead. But actually, I consider myself a bit
of a cook."

  His words took me by surprise. He didn't seem like the type to do such a domestic task. "Really? What do you like to cook?"

  "Well, my blue ribbon dish is short ribs. But I always love to cook new recipes, try things out."

  I suddenly pictured him in my apartment, placing the tip of a wooden spoon with sauce in my mouth, awaiting my response. Stop it. Don't even go there.

  "That's awesome," I said finally. "A man that can cook is sexy."

  "Well that's specifically why I got into it, just so I could impress women," he said.

  "Are you serious?" I scoffed.

  He laughed, squeezing me in his arms. "No, I got into it really when I was younger. I'd have to make dinner if my dad was going to be working late. Back then, it was more of a chore, but now I really enjoy it."

  My heart tightened, picturing him as a young teenager, throwing together Hamburger Helper so his brothers could eat.

  "How did your mom pass away?" I asked quietly. I was unsure if I should even ask the question, but I really wanted to know more about him.

  He sighed heavily.

  "You don't have to tell me if you don't want." I suddenly wished I hadn't asked; I hated the thought of bringing him any pain.

  "No, it's ok," he said softly. "She had ovarian cancer. And unfortunately with that kind, usually by the time you find it, it's too late." He had such a sadness in his voice that stirred all sorts of emotions within me. I tightened my hand with his.

  "The good thing was she didn't have to suffer long. She was diagnosed and then passed away two months later," he continued.

  Jesus, how terrible. "I can't imagine being so young and losing your mom so quickly. I'm so sorry," I said, softly kissing his hand. My heart ached for him.

  "Yeah, thanks."

  A quietness hung in the air, but it wasn't awkward. I realized I was actually enjoying laying with his arms around me, talking to him. He was turning out to be completely different than the cocky douche bag I had first perceived him as.

  "So, back to our cooking discussion," he said, clearing his throat. "Where's the craziest place you've ever had sex?"

  I laughed out loud. "What? What does that have to do with cooking?" I had a feeling this was his way of steering the conversation away from being deep and personal.