Let Me: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family Book 2) (12 page)

“I know,” I agree.

He smiles a little, taking a moment to stroke my cheek before continuing. “Every time I step inside that octagon, and the gate slams shut, I know my opponent is there to inflict pain and take me out. I may not like it, but I respect it, because that’s the same thing I’m there to do to him. So when I hit that guy, I meant to hurt him, and I did. I earned my first professional knockout, secured my win in under thirty seconds, and propelled myself up the ranks. But Sol, I’m gonna tell you something I only told Kill at the time, I’ve never felt more like shit.”

“Because you hurt him?”

He shakes his head. “No. Because I hurt someone weaker than me.”

“Oh,” I whisper. Even though this happened years ago, the guilt in his eyes is as palpable as the strength that surrounds him.

“The promoter told me afterward that my opponent had no business breathing the same air as me. He meant it as a compliment, but all I could think about―when people were rushing up to me to pat me on the back―was that I had beat up on someone that in any other situation I probably would have tried to protect.”

“You couldn’t have held back, though. I mean, for as unprepared as he was to face you, that didn’t make him incapable of inflicting serious injury.”

“No. But it took the glory out of my first knockout. For a while, I wanted to find the guy to tell him I was sorry. But Kill told me it wasn’t a good idea.” He shrugs. “He thought it would affect my performance in the octagon.”

“Do you think it did? Even without finding him?”

“Oh, hell yeah. I was almost afraid to hurt someone.” He huffed. “That changed when my next opponent cracked me hard in the skull.”

“Oh! So you lost?”

Finn shakes his head. “Fuck, no. It was exactly what I needed to put me back in the game and come out swinging.”

Which is why he’s ranked as high as he is. I press a kiss to his lips. “How do you do it?” I ask him softly.

He cocks his chin. “Do what?”

“Hurt someone as badly as you do, but hold me in a way that I might break?”

He stiffens, that shimmer of life returning to his stare. “Because I like you.” His rough knuckles pass along my cheek. “And unlike the men I face when I fight, I would never hurt you.”

I mean to smile, but I can’t then, so caught up by the way he enthralls me with just his voice and that to-die-for face. “I hope not,” I whisper. “Because I really like you, too.”

He doesn’t say anything, not at first, taking in every bit of my visage as if he can’t believe I like him as much as I do. He has no idea how much I think of him or how simply picturing his face lifts my spirits.

Finn is the one thing I look forward to, the one person who makes me laugh and shoves all my misery aside. Of course I don’t tell him. But I want to . . . just like I want to make love to him all night.

His fingers travel down my throat to the exposed skin my blouse doesn’t quite cover. “Do you want to head inside?”

“I really do,” I tell him.

“Good,” he whispers.

We both slip out at the same time, him reaching for my hand as we step onto the sidewalk together. The house is large, classic old Philly charm and well maintained. “It’s pretty,” I say, motioning forward.

“It was my Grammie’s. She left it to my mother, but Ma had me and Wren move in when she decided to retire in Florida. She knew we’d take care of it.” He shrugs. “I guess she was right.”

He’s making small talk. Finn isn’t shy around girls. I’ve heard enough about him to know that’s true. He’s trying to give me space, so I don’t feel pressured. But as much as I’m still a little nervous, I’m no longer afraid.

When he told how terrible he felt hurting someone weaker than him, it gave me insight to his character, and something more to admire. He’s
such
a good guy. My heart literally warms being at his side.

He unlocks the door, and flicks on the light, illuminating the cherry wood floors. He shrugs out of his leather jacket. As I unbutton my coat, I take in the room around me, so captivated by the rich feel of “home”, I barely feel him slip the coat from my shoulders.

Comfortable and classic-looking chocolate brown leather couches make up the family room, a dark wood and stone table at its center. To our right, French doors open to a small library, two comfortable and cushy chairs set in front of a brick fireplace, along with an antique secretary’s desk near the window.

“You like to read?” I ask, motioning to the shelves that take up every inch of one wall.

He laughs. “I used to, mostly fantasy.”

“Fantasy?” I question, stopping to try to make out the hardcover novels in the dimly lit room.

Again he laughs. “Harry Potter, the Dresden files―action-related fantasy. But I haven’t picked up a book in forever. When I train as much as I do, I either go out for a bit or come home and crash.” He leads me into the kitchen, his fingers playing with my hand as he walks. “Want something to drink?”

“Water would be great,” I say, taking in the wood beam ceilings. “I always wanted to live in a house like this,” I add, taking in the freshly painted plaster walls.

“Yeah? Why?”

It sounds stupid, but I tell him because it’s true. “It feels like a real home.”

He nods as if he knows what I mean. “It does,” he agrees.

He tosses his keys on the counter as we step into the kitchen. The cabinets are stained sage green and white granite with swirls of silver make up the counters. It shouldn’t work, but somehow it does, adding another degree of elegance to an already beautiful home. “Did Sofia help you decorate?”

“Damn right, she did.” He hands me a bottle of water from the stainless steel fridge. “Do you think me and Wren would have been able to pick this shit out?” He cracks open a bottle of his own and downs half of it before pointing. “We were going to go with black and white―the counters, cabinets, even the tile. Sofia didn’t want us to lose the classic look of the house―or however she put it, and really had to work to convince us. Hell, I’m glad she did. Wren’s friend, a realtor, stopped by after we finished. Said something about doubling the value just by preserving its structure―not that we’re going to sell―but it’s good to know.”

Finn leans against the counter, his ripped muscles bulging against his gray T-shirt. Dark jeans cover his strong legs and firm assets. But it’s his face and grin that draw me closer . . . and the knowledge that his powerful body will be on top of me all night.

He frowns at my approach, noticing I’ve only taken a few sips of my water. “Do you want to watch T.V. or something?”

My eyes fix on his. “No.”

The purr in my tone suggests I’m done talking. “Well, all right,” he says, pushing off the counter.

His arm slips behind my back and his mouth lowers on mind for a kiss. He smiles against my lips before leading me out through the other side of the kitchen, down a small hall and toward the bedroom. I catch a glimpse of a bathroom at the end before we enter a large bedroom.

Dark wood furniture a few shades lighter than the floor make up his room. There’s a framed MMA poster signed by Tito Ortiz near a king-sized bed with a leather headboard and a thick white comforter. A triangular rug with a pattern of white, brown, and gold squares lies parallel to the bed. It’s a simple, modern décor, but still very much Finn.

He releases my hand by the door, edging back to the bed and lowering into a sitting position. “Hey,” he says.

Seeing how much space he’s giving me, I’m beginning to wonder if he thinks I’m a virgin. But like I mentioned, I’m not.

I answer by unbuttoning the top of my black blouse and slipping it over my head. Finn’s eyes widen when my lacy mauve bra lands on the floor beside the blouse. Despite my petite stature, I’m pretty busty. And while Finn has played with my breasts, he’s never actually seen them. Not like this. His reaction stirs my blush, but also an impish grin.

He likes what he sees. Hopefully he’ll like the rest even more. I shut the door and lock it, stripping slowly out of the remainder of my clothes as I make my way across his bedroom.

I step between his knees, biting down on my lip as my gaze falls to the large bulge pressing against his jeans. “Hi,” I murmur.

His hands glide along my curves and his smoky stare rakes down my body, taking every inch of me in before returning to my face. “You ready for me?” he asks.

There’s no hesitation. I pull his shirt off and toss it aside.

CHAPTER 13

Finn

Holy
.
Shit
.

Sol’s breasts skim over my chest when I haul her to me, her nipples stiffening as they graze across my skin. Our kiss is slow at first, but as it builds, so does my erection, pulsing hard against my jeans. I kick off my hiking boots and socks as fast as I can, flipping her onto her back even faster.

She squeals from surprise, but as I rub against her she gasps and arches her back, encouraging me to pull one of her large brown tips into my mouth to suck. A deep moan rips from her chest as she clutches me to her. But when I slip my fingers between her legs, those moans turn to grunts.

My mouth releases her nipple with a pop as I sit up, needing to see her face―needing to know she’s okay with what I’m doing. Her eyelids flutter as my fingers circle her, slickening folds. “You like that, baby?” I ask.

She whimpers yet doesn’t answer. Not with words. But the way her skin flushes and her hips swirl tell me everything I need to know.

My fingers move faster while my opposite hand sweeps along her belly and around her curves. Her breasts are heavy against my palms. I massage each one, feeling the soft skin bounce as she writhes, her jaw tightening when I tug and nip the centers.

Her legs fall open, giving me room and inviting me to explore. I take my time, learning what she likes. But it doesn’t take long for her to succumb.

She cranes her neck. “I’m going to come,” she rasps, her fingernails digging into my comforter.

Those are the words I’ve been waiting to hear. I slide two fingers in deep and circle, my skin burning as I watch her lose control.

I’m breathing like I’ve been running for miles, so turned on by how hot I’m making her―how her body trembles beneath
my
touch,
my
control, it’s all I can do not to pound into her. But for now, this is all about her, and I’m going to make sure she damn well never forgets me.

“
Finn
,” she says, barely getting my name out before her legs kick out, her body bouncing hard against the bed.

I’ve given plenty of women orgasms, but to see someone like Sol, who’s so sweet, so angelic lose it like this―
fuck
―that’s all I want to do to her. I want her so bad my erection is killing me right now. But instead I keep going, prolonging the first and inciting another.

I slow my movements, easing her down as the next orgasm fades. Her small body relaxes gradually, her back lowering to the mattress from its high arc. But her breath . . . those are
way
out of control.

Her hair fans out along my bed, her nipples are taut, and her eyes are heavy with lust as she takes me in. I crawl on top of her, tucking my hand behind her back and lifting her to me to kiss.

For all I want to spread her legs open and wrap them around me, my kissing is slow and lazy, like I’m not in a rush, ignoring the dense bulge ready to tear through my jeans, and once more making it all about her. She has regrets, I know she does. I’m not about to be one of them.

Her hands travel across the hard planes of my body as her tongue swirls mine. But when her fingers make quick work of unsnapping my jeans and wrenching them down, I know our time has come.

I pull away, throwing open the drawer to my nightstand and reaching for a condom. I tear the wrapper open with my teeth while I shove out of my boxers. I want to keep touching her, hell, I never want to stop.

Before I can slide the condom in place, Sol’s thin arms wrap around my shoulders. I freeze, thinking she’s going to tell me she’s not ready―that she changed her mind . . . until she falls to her knees and takes me deep into her mouth. I jerk at her first pull, and her second, her lips forming a seal and creating an intense suction. Each pass takes me further in, making me harder and tightening the muscles along my groin.

I only wish I could relax and enjoy it. But I can’t.

I never could.

She’s not the first girl to do this. I’ve lost count of how many women have gone down on me. Most of the time, I clamp down and bear it―wait till they get tired or bored so we can get down to business and do what I really want. But with Sol, I can’t zone out―not with the passion behind her motions, and not with how her delicate hands pass along the bulging muscles of my thighs to join her mouth to tease and play.

I tear my stare away from where her head moves up and down on my lap. She’s going deeper, her hands working me as hard as those lips.  I focus on the ceiling, trying to force myself to get through this. I’m a man―God damn it. I’m supposed to want and crave this shit.

The cords of my neck strain as I struggle to put my mind elsewhere. Instead I jerk again, and again. My body shudders as she releases me and scrambles to her feet. “Hey,” she says, her hands gliding across my shoulders.

It takes me a moment to meet her face, but when I do, I fucking hate what I see. All the lust I riled is gone from her features, leaving only worry, confusion, and what resembles fear. She’s at a loss. But so am I.

“Am I hurting you?” she asks.

I should say yes, to stop her questions and to keep her from doing it again. But I don’t want to put my baggage on her.

“No,” I gasp, barely able to speak.

“Then what’s wrong?” she asks, stroking the side of my face.

I angle my chin away, wondering what’s happening. It felt good, damn it. No, s
he
felt good. “I forgot I have to get up early tomorrow,” I tell her. “I should take you home.”

Her eyes widen as her attention falls back on my lap. I can’t blame her. I’m as hard as a chimney―and I should be seeing how hot she made me. But right now, I can’t come. No matter what we do, I won’t be able to. Not with her knowing there’s something wrong with me.