“You got a hotel? Firm location?” My jaw clenches in annoyance.
“Working on it,” Jay says. “I hope I’ll have something by the morning.”
“Prep our pilot. We’re probably headed to Ireland tomorrow.” She strides to the mini-bar, picking up each of the liquors and examining their label.
“All of us going?” Jay looks between us as he heads to the door to prepare.
“No.” She glances at me. “Finn will stay here.”
“Will I?”
She glares at me and snaps the lid off a bottle. “I didn’t pay a massive amount of money and risk getting a jail sentence of my own so I could drop you into the only country completely off limits. You’ll either end up dead or in prison.”
Jay ducks out saying nothing more. Smart man knows when he’s not needed or wanted. He’s growing on me. The door clicks closed behind him, which leaves us alone. I wander over to the mini-bar, feigning nonchalance. She’s not winning this argument. No fucking way.
After removing my gun from my waistband, I slide it across the counter. Then I pluck the bottle from her fingers. The vodka streams straight down my throat. When it’s empty, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
Our gazes connect.
“I opened that for me,” she says.
“I’m a guest in your room. Shouldn’t I get served first?”
“You can’t come to Ireland.” She swallows, and the pulse at the base of her neck jumps. Without hesitating, I brush my thumb against it. She sucks in a sharp breath.
“My contacts, everyone who knows me, they live in the south,” I say. “Belfast is north. I’ll be fine.”
“The FBI—”
“Isn’t the CIA. Weren’t you the person who declared that a bright side?”
“You’ll still be on a watchlist.”
“You worried your document forger isn’t any good?” The gap between us is inching closed. I drink her in. With each breath, her flowery scent invades my senses. We’re on the cusp. Even if backing down is the right thing to do, I have no will to do it.
“I rescued you—”
“And now.” I trace my fingers across her collarbone before sliding them into the bun at the back of her head. “It’s my turn to rescue you from whatever or whoever is trying to hurt you.”
She goes onto her toes and her forehead touches mine. Her chest rises and falls as though she’s been running. We both know where this is headed. But I need a green light from her. I’m not having her tell me tonight, tomorrow, any day soon, this night was a mistake. She only gets to use those words against me once more, and that’ll be when I’m walking out the door for good.
“The only thing I care about is keeping you safe. I’m coming with you.”
“Finn,” she whispers.
My heart gallops, sure of where this tension is headed. Our lips are so close the slightest movement on either of our parts will reconnect us, send us spiraling down. I slide my free hand up her side, under her shirt and around to trace her spine. When our skin connects, an electric pulse shoots through me. She arches her back and her gaze flicks up to mine.
“Oh,” she says, as though she’s surprised, as though this wasn’t always the path with us.
“Tell me.” My voice is gruff next to her ear as I tighten my hold, letting her understand how much I want her. “Tell me what you want.”
Chapter Eighteen
Carys
The smart thing would be to ask him to leave my hotel room, to step back, to readjust my shirt. After he leaves, I’ll satisfy my lust in another manner—that’s the smart thing. The tiniest part of my brain still knows that even as the timbre of his voice sends a shiver of desire racing down my spine.
Whenever Finn is this close, my mind short circuits, and it’s all I can do to remember my name. The sharp, tangy scent of him, the way he worships and devours me, the way his skin slides over mine, makes my senses go into overdrive, hyperaware, poised for release.
“Fuck me,” I whisper, rising on my toes to press my lips against the sensitive spot on his neck.
“I didn’t hear you.” His voice is guttural, on the edge of losing the control he has left.
Glancing up at him under my lashes, I smirk. “Then I guess you should leave so I can take care of myself.”
He deftly releases my bun. “I enjoy hearing you say you want me.”
“You always liked it when I talked dirty.”
He searches my face. “Hmm. Unbelievably sexy.” Then he draws me even tighter, and his lips descend on mine. I meet his kiss. Eager. Hungry. Anything to avoid thinking about what I’m doing. My shirt goes over my head in a fluid motion, our lips barely breaking apart. When I tug his T-shirt, he helps me get it over his head. He sucks in a sharp breath but keeps kissing me, his tongue reminding me of the amazing things it can do.
As soon as his top is gone, I run my hand up his side and bump into a bandage. I break the kiss and step back, the spell broken at the reminder. His torso is littered with bandages of various shapes and sizes.
“Finn.” I float my hands float across his body, taking in each of his injuries. “Doing this will hurt you.”
He chuckles. “Not doing it will hurt a hell of a lot more.” His arm comes around my middle and tugs me against him again. “Unless you’re saying no, it’s a hell yes from me.”
“I’m not saying no, but...” I brush the bandage near his shoulder. He’s been so good at pretending to be fine since the shootout I forgot about his injuries. There are so many. “Can you—”
“You’re not really asking me that.” His hand sweeps my long blonde hair away from my face, and his expression is amused. “I may not be able to do fast and hard, but I can certainly manage slow and steady.”
I swallow. “Slow and steady?”
He leans down so his lips graze my earlobe. “So slow and so steady you’ll be quivering, begging, so jacked up that when I finally let you come, you won’t see stars, you’ll see Ireland. And you’ll think I managed teleportation in an orgasm.”
I laugh even as my body tingles at the thought. “Shut up and fuck me already.”
“Just one last thing.”
I trail my hand from his shoulder down his arm. “That is?”
“Protection. I want to make sure I keep you safe.”
I close my eyes and place my forehead on his chest. Admitting this and making eye contact is strange, more intimate than what we’re about to do.
“I take a monthly shot.” I kiss his chest, and he sucks in a breath. “And you had a full workup when you first came to the hospital. I didn’t want them to miss anything, so they tested for everything. Because of what happened with Eric, what’s still happening with him, I get checked regularly.”
“Carys, please tell me you don’t let him—” His tone is gruff, angry.
“No.” I shake my head. “No. We’re—I insist on being extra careful. I—there were a lot of years where we weren’t. Obviously he wasn’t sensible with whoever else he was seeing on the side.”
Finn is so tense beneath my hands I’m not sure what he will say or do.
“Finn?” My voice is hesitant. The sun has slipped below the horizon, and although the curtains are still open, the room is only lit by a few streetlights. His face is granite in the half-light.
“When I think about how he’s treated you, I want to fucking kill him.”
“I let him—”
“No, fuck that. Your job isn’t to follow him around and make sure he keeps his dick in his pants. That’s on him. Nothing to do with you. Nothing.”
“I thought you might pity me,” I whisper, avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t want to be her, and I’m exactly like her.”
Both his hands dig into my hair, and he tilts my face toward his. “You’re not your fucking mom. You didn’t marry him. You didn’t have kids with him. Cut him loose.” His voice is rough.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” At the window, I draw the curtains. I tried to fire Eric right
after I found out about his betrayal, but my father wouldn’t let me. He said Eric was too much of an asset to the company, and I needed to take one for the team. And then, as the weeks passed, it got easier to let things keep going on as they were. Even when my father retired, I didn’t kick him out. He’s excellent at his job. He’s just not a decent person.
“Look, maybe this was a bad idea,” I say.
As if Finn knows proximity is his key to winning me around again, his bare chest brushes my back as soon as I bring the curtains together. What little light was in the room is extinguished, and I’m glad for the cover of darkness.
“Do you want me to leave?” His tongue flicks out, catching my earlobe, drawing it into his mouth. His hands slide from my shoulders to my arms and then across my middle, securing me flush against him again. There’s no doubt at least part of him wants to stay. But I’m not convinced this path with Finn leads to happiness for either of us. What I do know is someday, when I reflect on the days I had with this man, I’ll wish I had lived in the moment. I want him. So I turn in his arms, meeting his kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck and hauling him close.
Fuck the right thing. I’m doing what feels good.
As we walk toward the bed, Finn unzips my skirt, and it drops to my feet. When he undoes my bra, it slips down onto the floor. His hands cup my breasts before his head dips, taking the nipple into his mouth. His teeth graze my taunt bud, and I gasp, digging my fingers into his hair.
From the moment I sidled up to him at the bar after a cage fight, sex has been like this with him—electric. His touch is a defibrillator bringing me to life. I never knew I could be with someone and still long for them at the same time. A constant yearning for more—closer, deeper, more. Back then, if I’d thought there was even the slightest chance he returned my feelings, I would have done anything to stay that way forever.
I tug on the top button of his jeans, and his mouth traces a path up to my lips. He deepens the kiss while I work to undo his pants and push them over his ass so they fall to the floor. We step out of our discarded clothes. He locks me tight against him as he buries his face in my neck, kissing, licking, and sucking the most sensitive spots, the ones nobody else bothered to find. Electricity pulses through me.
I moan and dig my nails into his shoulder blades. He shudders and cups my ass, pulling me so close to him his hardness is clear against me. My hand slips into his boxer-briefs, trying to free him.
“No,” he murmurs against my lips. “Slow.”
“Please.” I arch toward him and deepen the kiss. I’m slick with need.
The back of my knees hit the bed and he lifts me up, dropping me in the center of the mattress before following me, kissing and licking a path up my body. When he runs a finger along the lip of my panties, I dig my hands into the sheets and wriggle.
“Not yet.” His tongue navigates the same route as his finger.
“Please.” I’m pleading for a release, for these sensations to go on forever.
He skims my folds over my underwear, and I try to squirm closer. He’s barely touched me, and I’m already wound so tight.
He crawls up my body, our lips reconnecting as he rocks his hips against mine. His cock brushes my clit through what’s left of our clothes, and I release the sheets to grip his ass, securing him against me.
“Oh,” I breathe out, closing my eyes, curving toward him.
“Look at me,” he commands from above.
I open my eyes, but I’m almost dazed with need. “More,” I beg. “I want more.”
He pushes against me harder, and I wrap my legs around his waist. I sigh at the pleasure, and he scoops my lips up and then deepens the kiss while he rocks slow and steady. The flex and release of his hips propelling me nearer to the edge.
His hand skims my side and comes up to cup my breast, his thumb grazing my nipple, causing it to bead, and little fires shoot to my core. Easing back, he works his way along my body, his lips creating a path to the corner of my underwear. He puts two fingers on either side and maneuvers them down my legs until I hear them hit the carpet.
He licks his fingers and then slides them between my folds, his thumb circling my clit while his other fingers slip inside me. A gasp escapes me, and I fist the sheets.
“Oh, God,” I cry as he keeps up a consistent pace for a few strokes before removing his hand to lift my hips and flick his tongue across the same area.
I wriggle beneath him, and he chuckles and swirls his tongue, the pressure exquisite.
“Finn.” My body clenches. “Please.”
“Not yet.” He retreats to kiss his way up my body.
When he tries to meet my lips, I press against his shoulder, guiding him onto his back. And then it’s my turn to shower affection over the parts of him not covered by bandages. When I get to his boxer-briefs, I ease them along his hips, and they drop on the floor.
My tongue circles his shaft before I take him into my mouth. His hands are in my hair, and I love the power, that I can cause a man like him to lose control. His breathing is ragged. When I peer up, he’s biting his lip.
“Jesus, Carys. I forgot how talented you are at that.” His breath is a hiss when I take him deeper. “We’ll never make it to the main attraction if you keep going.”
I crawl up him and then straddle his waist, positioning myself above him. “Fuck that.” I smile. “I want to see Ireland.” Then I slide onto his shaft. When I grind, he raises himself, giving me the friction I need.
“God, you feel fucking amazing,” he mutters as I sink onto him, creating an intense rhythm.
I lean over, and he rises, one hand going into my hair, drawing me into a deep kiss. His other hand sits on my hip, locking our connection as we rub together. The sensation is so earth-shattering that if I were to die in this moment, I wouldn’t care. There’s nothing in the world but him and this room and this pleasure.
I whimper into his mouth when my orgasm rocks through me. He locks me to him, grips me harder as he meets my orgasm with his own.
Collapsing onto him, I sigh. Impossible to believe I could have forgotten how incredible sex is with him. But my memory didn’t do him or us justice. Perhaps he was right to insist I was sober.
“Ireland?” The word is soft in my ear.
I kiss his chest. “Maybe England. Ireland’s pretty far from here.”
He chuckles beneath me. “Something to aspire to.”
~ * ~
I’ve been lying awake since Finn fell asleep beside me with one arm thrown over me, his head inches from the crook of my neck. Every time I turn my head to examine his injury-riddled body, I gain courage. Letting him go to Ireland with me in the morning is the easy thing to do—easy for me, anyway. I want him with me. I enjoy having him around. He makes me feel safe, protected.
But I’ll spend the whole trip worried about him. Will he end up in jail? Will the McCaffery family find out he’s back and order a hit on him?
Carefully, I extract myself from under his hand. His breathing hitches, and I freeze. Then he resumes his regular pattern. My heart pounds with betrayal, but this is for the best. I can’t allow him to throw his life away to chase my rogue employee.
With an eye on the clock, I dress and gather my things together. It’s four in the morning, but I need to get out of here before Finn catches me.
Once I have my bag packed, I take some money out of my purse and leave it on the dresser. Not enough for him to follow me, but enough to eat and stay here for a week if he’s careful.
When I get to Jay’s door, I knock. A few minutes pass before he appears, bleary-eyed. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and squints, checking behind me. “You don’t want him coming?”
“No.”
“You sure? He will be fucking pissed.”
I swallow and stare at the room I just left. “I’m sure. He’s safer here than there.”
Jay gives a curt nod and steps back for me to enter. He flies around his room and is ready in less t
han five minutes.
When he reopens his door, I half expect to see Finn standing there, naked and pissed off. But the hall is clear.
As we pass my hotel room, I give it one last glance. He might not forgive me for this. But if he died or ended up in jail, I’d never forgive myself.
Chapter Nineteen
Finn
Before I’m fully awake, I sense something is wrong. The room is too still, the spot beside me too cold. Her flowery scent lingers, but not in the way it does when she’s present.
I sit up and rub my eyes. A hint of light peeks between the curtains. I don’t remember the last time I slept so soundly. Rare for me to tune out noises in the background, even in sleep. Alert is alive.
Her stuff, strewn across the floor last night, is gone. I slept through her packing. Throwing off the covers, I check the bathroom to be sure, but I realize what’s happened. She went to Ireland without me. On the dresser is a mound of bills.
Jesus. She paid me like I’m a fucking prostitute.
Snatching my jeans off the floor, I tamp down the spurt of rage threatening to escape—at myself, at her. My room key is in my back pocket. Will my passport and other forged documents still be there?
I dress in hurried movements. The money sits on the dresser. Not taking what she’d left is stupid, even if having the neat stack pisses me off. Grabbing the bills off the wooden surface, I stuff them into my pocket. I check the room to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. Gun. I stride over to the mini-bar and shove it into the waistband of my jeans. My brain ticks through my options, but they’re limited, almost nonexistent with little money.
No vehicle to get around the city, no contacts, no fucking phone. I don’t even have a god damned internet connection.
I slip out of her room and into mine. With no problems I locate my passport and the other forged documents. At least she didn’t go that far to keep me away.
While I pack, I take stock. I have three phone numbers memorized. My other contacts live in a phone I no longer have or on the internet I can’t access. The first is Carys, and I’m not giving her a heads-up I’m building a plan. The second is Lorcan. I can’t fucking call him. Even if his number still exists, he’ll likely have Kimi or the FBI screening his calls. Fucking pussy.
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