The soft ticking of a St. Patrick’s Day wall clock Dev’s kids sent caught his eye. With each click a leprechaun’s leg moved. It looked like he was dancing the jig.
He took a deep breath.
The phoenix is rising.
Wiping palms beginning to sweat on his jeans, he stared at the bathroom door wishing he had X-ray vision.
When he lifted Remy off the piano bench, he thought she was crying. Tears he could understand and handle, but she was distressingly quiet. He didn’t know what she needed if she didn’t communicate.
At first, her body trembled uncontrollably, and she clung to him—hiding her face against his neck. He’d done what he could to soothe her until Sophie and Jace barged in and took over. After that, all he could do was stand by helplessly.
He cracked his knuckles and flinched. He hated cracking his knuckles.
Deciding he couldn’t sit any longer, Finn murmured, “I gotta go in there.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Jace boomed with finality.
“What if she needs me?”
Jace looked back and forth between him and the closed bathroom door as if he was trying to decide something. He must have come to a decision because he nodded a few times and sat forward with his arms resting on his thighs.
“Sophia knows things—female things—that we can’t possibly comprehend. Remington needs that right now. Look Finn, she’s been struggling for a long time. I’m sure you understand now all that she’s been through. Just give her a little more breathing room to figure out what’s next.”
“I’m what’s next,” he growled.
“And she knows that. But this is scary, and she’s finally admitting that she’s human. There’s no way she’d have done what she did today without you. Now just try to relax. Let’s see who comes through that door.”
What the hell did that mean? Finn swallowed his anxiety and almost threw up from the tension wracking his system.
Eventually, the door to the bathroom cracked open. He heard hushed voices. Then Sophia came out first and went straight to Jace.
“Come on,” she said with a hurried sounding voice. “I’m starving. Let’s find a 24-hour drive-thru.”
Jace looked at him with raised brows. The women were calling the shots, so he fell in line and did what he was told.
They left so fast Finn didn’t know what to say.
He turned and studied his girlfriend. Expecting her to have changed into comfortable clothes, he was more than a little surprised to see that wasn’t the case.
The outrageously sexy white corset outfit remained.
What had changed was the woman wearing the clothes.
Her fingertips were tingling. So was her nose. Did either of those things have anything to do with the lip plumper Sophie insisted would help disguise the aftermath of an ugly cry?
She didn’t know.
Sophie, heaven bless her, power walked Jace out the door without giving a hoot how it looked.
The time had come to talk of so many things although not necessarily shoes, ships, or sealing wax. Everything she did today—the performances, the costume, all of it—ensured this conversation took place.
Running and avoiding were no longer options.
She’d made sure all her normal escape hatches were closed.
Finn had the look of a condemned man given a chance to change his fortune if only he said the right thing.
Sophie suggested cracking a joke. Maybe something dark and on the edge of un-funny, but one look at his face nixed that idea.
They froze and stared at each other. It was up to her.
Grabbing a reasonable question out of the air, she asked, “Do we need to help Grey close up?”
He didn’t move—just stood there being devilishly handsome and giving off a textbook case of confused male.
His brows bumped together, and he squinted at her. Had his eyes always been so dreamy? She shook off the desire to mess with him just so she could bask in his smile.
Dreamy eyes? Bask in his smile? Devilishly handsome? Oh lordy. She had to put down the trashy romance paperbacks and get back to reading technical manuals. Damn Victoria St. John and her super-secret naughty book club. All that swoony romance and hot, hot, hot sex between the pages had made Remy more-than-consider coloring outside the lines.
With Finn.
She bit her lip and inspected every inch of the sexy Irishman. His best look, if it was up to her to decide, was wearing nothing but a towel slung dangerously low on his hips. Any time he was in the shower, she made sure to set up camp someplace where she’d catch a glimpse of him strolling about with nothing but a few square inches of towel covering his assets.
After this evening’s extravaganza, though, she was adding a kilt to Finn’s best looks.
Words came out of his mouth in an unintelligible mumble. Remy inwardly sighed. She thought about Alex and Meghan. It occurred to her that Finn and his brother-in-law had something in common. They were opposites and as different as two men could be, but fantastic role models raised them both. There was no shame in not having all the answers, but she knew in her gut that as an alpha with command issues, he was out of his element.
“Um, sorry?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and grumbled, “No.”
What had she asked? Oh, right. Did Grey need help?
Dammit. How was she supposed to push them past this impasse?
It was up to her. It had always been up to her.
“Take me home.”
His head snapped up, and he pinned her in place with a fierce look.
“Remy, I,” he mumbled.
Nah. No more talk. Talk was a waste of time. They were beyond talking. She marched across the space between them in her hooker heels and tantalizing ensemble. There was something to be said for the extra swagger that happened with the higher heels—and hers were very high.
She almost stopped breathing when the moment came to fit her body to his, but she did it. His shoulders strained the fit of his Pete’s T-shirt. The muscles rippling beneath the fabric made her mouth go dry. Feathering her fingers along the side of his face, she put her hand to the back of his head and shyly initiated a kiss.
Remy could count in heartbeats how long he hesitated. Then he roughly crushed her to him and sent her under. The self-confidence that fueled his sexual magnetism was evident in the scorching kiss that sparked a multiple alarm fire inside her.
He unabashedly claimed her as his, and it felt good. And right. Being in Finn’s arms was where she belonged.
They were breathing heavy when he ended the kiss.
“Some other time, we’ll discuss exactly what home means. Tonight home is where FiFi is. She’s been by herself for hours. Do you mind?”
Did she mind?
A bubble of pure happiness burst in her heart. Home for now was wherever they left their fur baby. It was comically perfect.
She remained plastered against him and wrapped her arms about his waist. About to crack a FiFi joke, she was surprised when he reared back and wiped a hand across his mouth.
“What the hell?”
Remy watched him lick his lips and frowned. What was he going on about now?
“Are you wearing pepper lipstick?”
She gasped. “Oh, my god.” The lip plumper must have rubbed off onto his mouth when they kissed! A burble of laughter fired off as she dragged him to the desk and ripped a tissue out of a box.
“Settle down, you big baby. It’s just a bit of tingle.”
Blotting at his sexy mouth she held in her laughter—barely.
“Tingle? Is that what you call it?”
“Yes. Tingle. For pouty, kissable lips.” She ducked her head and shielded her eyes. “Blame Sophie. It was hers.”
The Beantown smirk, the arrogant one that made her lady parts sit up and take notice, spread across his face.
“Wait. That’s a thing? Lipstick that tingles?”
She just knew she was missing someth
ing—his amusement was too obvious—but she answered and waited for him to explain what was so entertaining.
“Yeah. Most plumpers have a tingle factor.”
He was almost choking with laughter. “Did you say plumper?”
“What’s so damn funny?” she grumbled.
His face was blooming with sudden color that made his golden tan more vibrant. “I should quit while I’m ahead,” he told her with a smirky grin.
Crossing her arms was a huge mistake. The movement took her boobs from holy shit to in your face and earned her a lecherous brow waggle. She stomped her foot—another mistake considering how she was dressed—and shot him a look.
“Oh, no you don’t. I just unburdened my soul in front of a roomful of people. There’s no way you get to hold back. What’s so damn funny, Beantown?”
His eyes flared at the snarky nickname that spread from her mouth through all of Family Justice. It would always remind of her of their initial head butts. She’d been pushing him away since the beginning, yet he was still here. Still fighting for them.
He ran his thumb on her bottom lip—she struggled to remain still.
“Seven words.” He chortled. “And hopefully my face won’t get slapped.”
She arched a brow and wait.
“Plumping and tingle factor—on my dick.”
Yep. He could count. That was definitely seven words. Seven words she’d expect from a hooligan. Her mouth quivered with suppressed laughter. His cheeky grin earned a headshake.
“Fair warning,” she answered with a heavy dose of shade. “I intensely dislike oral.”
His mouth dropping open put him in the running for the finals of best alpha in shock.
She smacked his chest and started to laugh. In his face. “Really, Finn?”
He blushed so heavily she laughed even harder.
All of her stuff was either still in the dressing room or in the back of his truck. It was late, and she was emotionally exhausted. She wasn’t kidding when she asked him to take her home.
“I’m leaving. Either take me home or call me a cab.”
Bowing like he was answering the Queen, he kissed her hand and gestured to the door.
“Your chariot awaits, m’lady.”
Sweeping past him, she swaggered out the door and headed for the parking lot while he locked up. The lights were still on in the bar, but he barely looked.
She waited by the truck. Finn had a thing about opening her door. As she hopped up onto the seat, she touched his face. “I need a Big Mac and fries.”
He sniggered. “You do know there’s a restaurant kitchen full of good food right here?”
She smiled. “Sometimes a girl just needs a mouthful of sauce.”
“What am I supposed to do with a comment like that?”
She laughed. “Get in the truck, Finn. Feed me and take me home. FiFi is waiting.”
It was four o’clock in the morning, and he was wide-awake. Finn leaned in the doorway of his bedroom and watched Remy sprawl across the bed. Despite the flirty banter, she folded like a cheap suit after eating and fussing over the dog. He hadn’t made a single demand and focused instead on taking care of her. He understood the emotional transition she was experiencing and didn’t want to rush things. Besides, it wasn’t about having sex. It had never been about that. What he wanted from Remy—what he wanted to share with her—was light years beyond mere fucking.
He glanced at her sexy stripper costume where it draped over the comfy chair she moved closer to the window because that was where she liked it. They’d been cohabitating like an old married couple—moving each other’s furniture and claiming a portion of the closet. It was time to decide where they would live going forward because the way he saw it, all the nonsense had stopped. He loved Remington Bisset, and she was ready, at last, to get on the same page with him. No more back and forth or pretending that their relationship was still in question.
She moaned, flung the covers aside, and rolled onto her back. One of her bare legs lifted and dropped as she kicked away the blanket. The outline of her amazing breasts taunted him through the thin, ratty T-shirt she filched from his dresser. The bottom of the shirt rode up her stomach and revealed a pair of pale green panties from the unsexy department.
He smiled. She could literally wear clown clothing and he’d still be lusting after her like a lovesick teenager. The thought sparked images of Remy in a variety of less than enticing clothing and the result was always the same.
“This love thing is quite the eye-opener,” he murmured. A thousand times a day, he marveled at the changes inside him—the things he felt—courtesy of the piece of work currently claiming three-quarters of his bed.
She made going grocery shopping a fun time. There was nothing quite like being lectured to and endlessly quizzed from one end of the market to the other. Each aisle was filled with jumping off points. His beloved Ding Dongs were chemical shitstorms that she promptly added to the no-no list. Hi-C and Kool-Aid went the same way—dispatched to unhealthy hell.
Didn’t she realize he just enjoyed jacking her up—for the fun of watching her reaction?
Considering he was the chef in their peculiar relationship, it was funny that she imagined he couldn’t handle himself in the supermarket.
It was also amusing that he had boxes of contraband Ding Dongs stashed all around Bendover. Every time he ripped open a pack and shoved one of the favorite childhood snacks into his mouth, he thought of her.
He should back away and let her sleep in peace—she needed the rest—but he couldn’t budge. When she was around, he needed to be near her. There were times when it felt like she called to him, and others when he yearned for her.
“Ah, dammit,” he grumbled. This was getting him nowhere. She wasn’t the only one who needed to sleep. Yesterday took a lot out of him, and he had a business to run that didn’t slow down because he was tired.
Reaching for the hallway light switch, he turned it off and sent the room plunging into darkness. Stepping carefully around the dog pillow where FiFi slept, he stood at the side of the bed and contemplated the situation before him.
For someone so controlled who had a freakish habit of being absolutely still, she was a hurricane in bed. There were times when sleeping in the same bed with her was like a marathon. Finn never had to guess if she was asleep because the minute she went under, the sprawl started. Arms and legs flung wherever, he’d even been socked in the throat a couple of times.
And it wasn’t just the physical claiming of the entire mattress real estate; she also stuck to him like glue. If he moved too far away, she chased him around the bed. He couldn’t count the number of time he awoke to find her draped across him like a bathrobe flung over a chair. Sometimes the way she blanketed his body included a knee between his legs. Those times challenged him big time.
She shifted again and rolled on her side. He surveyed the space she wasn’t claiming and decided it looked like a gerrymandered political map—a little bit here, and a little bit there. No way could he lie down without moving her out of the way.
Lifting his knee to the mattress, he put his hands beneath her and tried a subtle shift. Moaning, she kicked her foot and wiggled till her position was almost fetal.
Finn carefully peeled all the covers back—pulling gently when part of the sheet was under her hips. He scrunched up a pillow for his head and slid to his side next to her. Swinging the corner of the covers up and over, he blanketed them and made a warm cocoon. The second his head hit the pillow, she thrashed around until her body found his. He let her find a comfortable spot and sighed inwardly. How would she react knowing that even when she slept, she was his?
He shifted and closed his eyes when the heat coming off her body started warming his. Her scent wrapped around his senses and squeezed like a boa constrictor.
At some point, he dozed off and drifted. Until she became restless. He fought the sleep trying to claim him, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back again
st his chest. Half asleep, he kissed her shoulder.
After a minute or so, she calmed and seemed to be sleeping peacefully but her voice, sounding very small and unusually vulnerable, called his name.
“Finn.”
He held her tighter. “I’m here, baby. You can sleep. I’ve got you.”
Her butt wiggled and arched, moving into direct contact with is groin. He bit back a curse. As was his practice when something physically challenged him, he started counting things as a way to distract his mind.
Twelve is a dozen
Thirteen is a baker’s dozen.
Despite being a third-degree offender in the nutrition sweepstakes, he had seven cartons of Easy Mac in the pantry.
Three. That’s all it would take. Move her panties aside, take out his cock, and slid into her.
Well, fuck. That thought wasn’t helpful at all. His arm tightened, and he silently prayed she’d stop moving.
Didn’t take long to realize he was in a world of lusty trouble when she flailed around a bit and finally flipped onto her other side and faced him. Her thigh slid between his legs, and she wriggled around till her body and his were connected.
He didn’t know what to do with his hands. If he pulled her any closer, she’d be under his skin. It was Remy’s hands, though, that triggered things he had no hope of controlling.
For a nanosecond, he figured he was imagining things until the reality of her hand between his legs struck him like a thunderbolt. He froze. Was she awake? Asleep? What was happening?
Finn carefully shifted his hips away from her touch, but she wasn’t having it. When her hand cupped his unruly dick, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to brush her fingers away. All that did was get him a husky murmur of dissent and her body squirming against his.
He was so fucked.
Schooling himself to think about anything else, he briefly considered the pros and cons of the stock market until his guy-brain switched gears and contemplated the smallness of her hand relative to the size of his cock.
As if she could read his thoughts, her fingers drove him to the brink of his sanity. He was thanking god for underwear when her hand slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs and sent him into a free fall.
Enduring (Family Justice Book 8) Page 36
