Authors: Rachel Higginson
His expression turned to one of pure, masculine dominance, like he was the first man ever to create fire. I imagined his chest puffing out and him shouting, “Look at what I have created!” in a deep, movie-phone voice. He was perfection and testosterone and everything I could ever want in a man. And then I lost any battle I had left in me when he bent down and kissed me as sweetly as possible on the lips just once.
“There will be more of that, I promise.” And then he took my hand and led me to another bar.
This one had a bouncer and I actually got to flash my brand new ID this time, which was very exciting for me, but Fin just rolled his eyes playfully.
Inside, we sat at a table off to the side of the dance floor. There were more waitresses here and they came around more frequently so it was easy to order drinks. I asked for something
lighter this time, since although didn’t mind beer, it was way too filling and I wouldn’t be able to keep drinking much more. Fin ordered me a Malibu and Diet and promised that this was the quintessential girl drink.
After tasting it, I had to agree.
This bar was celebrating a grand opening, so it was also packed. Most of the bars along Third Street were dive bars with cheap drinks, but this one had more of a club type feel. There were neon colored beads draping every table and temporary tattoos with the bars logo littering every available space.
It was even louder in this bar than the last so talking was practically impossible. Fin said he would
dance; he just needed a little more liquid courage before I could pull him on the dance floor. I was having fun watching everyone else and enjoying my drink anyway, so I didn’t mind waiting.
The music was sexy and so loud the beat of the bass thrummed inside my chest. I looked up at Fin to find him watching me again, his eyes heated and excited, suddenly I couldn’t wait to be out on the dance floor with him, pressing my body against his again.
He caught the desire in my look because he immediately leaned forward and swept me away in another kiss. His hands roamed a little freely this time and when he grazed the underside of my breast with his thumb I moaned in his ear.
He pulled back but only to take a shaky sip of his own drink. He ran a hand through his hair and that muscle was ticking in his jaw again. I was hoping it was because he was as unsettled and desperate as I was.
I liked that.
I liked that I had that kind of power over him.
He reached forward and laid his hand on my thigh again, like he couldn’t bear not to touch me. I loved that. I loved the way he made me feel and that I made him feel. He was going to steal my heart completely.
In the cafeteria the other week he promised me he would win this game and it wasn’t until this moment that I realized I never had a chance. I was an amateur even at this. He held all the right cards.
Knowing that, I knew I had to grapple back some of my control. There was life after this date; there would always be consequences to face tomorrow. And, if I was really honest with myself, I didn’t want to be the only one falling; the only one who’s heart was getting tangled in something that seemed irretrievable.
I threaded my fingers through the hand Fin had on my thigh and brought it up to the top of the table. I shivered at the feel of his huge, calloused palm pressed against mine and I loved how willingly he just gave it to me, just let me do what I wanted.
I gave him a saucy smile and then reached for one of the temporary tattoos scattered across the table top. He eyed me carefully but didn’t object. I held his hand with both of mine, so his palm faced up. Lifting it, I met him halfway and licked a sensual path along the inside of his wrist. I felt his whole body tense with anticipation and I couldn’t hide my triumphant smile.
I peeled the plastic covering off the small square tattoo and looked up to waggle my eyebrows at him.
In a rough growl he voiced his one objection, “I don’t think those are very manly.”
“You’ll like it, I promise.”
He let out a breath and said quickly, “Ok.”
With his permission I pressed the tattoo to his wrist and held it in place. With my other hand I reached into my almost empty drink and pulled out a piece of ice. Slowly I rubbed the ice over the tattoo and down his forearm. I never looked up at him, but I felt his eyes on me the entire time, felt the tension in his body as though he was just one sEcond away from pulling me on his lap and fulfilling all his sexy promises. Finally, I was satisfied that the tattoo wouldn’t come off with the paper and I removed the now soggy backing and discarded it on the tabletop. On his wrist was the perfect image of the bar’s logo, little droplets of water still running down his arm and pooling at the pushed up sleeve of his cardigan. Satisfied with my work I lifted his hand again and pressed a kiss to the new tattoo.
I lifted my eyes to meet Fin’s and watched as he slowly swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort.
“Are you trying to kill me?” he rasped out.
I shook my head slowly and then stood up and tugged on his hand, “Let’s dance.”
He just nodded, seeming unable to say anything else. Feeling more powerful than I probably ever had in my entire life, I led Fin to the dance floor and pressed my body flush against his.
The music was fast but sensual and we moved together easily. Fin’s hands were everywhere on my body. He turned me around so that my back was against his chest and his hands moved over my stomach possessively, before long he turned me around again and we danced front to front, my arms around his neck, his hands gripping my hips tightly.
Fin was claiming me again, with every single touch, both light and hard. He was owning me, making me his and I was allowing him to.
I couldn’t have stopped him.
He was too consuming.
So instead, I gave up what little fight I had left and just danced.
We stayed there for the rest of the night, hungry for each other’s touch, desperate to stay connected in every way. He had plenty more kisses for me, and his hands never let go.
By the time bar closed we were sweaty and exhausted and drunk off each other. We walked back to his Jeep stealing kisses and holding hands. The ride to my apartment was taken in silence with too much to be said to say anything in all.
He walked me to my apartment complex door but stopped there, “This was just the first date.”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“But I’m saying goodnight here, Ellie,” his voice was that low rumbling tone I was addicted to. “Neither one of us is ready for what would happen if I followed you upstairs tonight.”
Realizing what that meant I blushed a deep red, and breathed, “Ok.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised and then kissed me long and hard enough that I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else tonight but what it would have meant if he followed me upstairs.
“Thank you for tonight.”
He kissed me again, shorter this time but just as passionately as all the times before.
“Ok, I’m going. Goodnight, Ellie.” Another long, hard kiss.
“Good night, Fin,” and then I initiated this time.
We stood there for several more minutes kissing. He had his way with my mouth and my neck and my ears so that when he finally walked to his car my mouth was swollen, my vision hazy and my brain imagining every single thing those kisses promised.
Best first date in the history of first dates.
But tomorrow we would go back to the way things were or I would drown in these feelings.
And just as much as I wasn’t ready for Fin to come upstairs with me, I wasn’t ready for that either.
Chapter Sixteen
“You have a lot of stuff,” I remarked tiredly to Britte.
We had been in the process of moving her out of the dorms and into my apartment all day. It was Saturday and I was still tired from my date with Fin last night. This was supposed to be life after the date, our relationship back to normal. But it was hard to forget all those kisses, all the places Fin’s hands traveled on my body. But I had to. I had to focus.
With the help of Fin and Jameson, the fi
rst part of our day started at the dorms where we loaded everything into all four vehicles. Jameson drove a truck and Fin drove an SUV and then with Britte’s VW BUG and my Suburu for the little stuff, we were able to cram it all in in one trip. On top of everything for her room she had a recliner and end table for the living room and her dad was driving up an old couch and TV from his basement tomorrow.
All the furniture would be mismatched but at least that room would have something in it. It was kind of depressing to stare at an empty room that used to be filled with nice things and then stolen by the spawn of Satan.
We were back down at street level now, attempting to work the recliner out of the bed of Jameson’s truck. I was sweaty, every one of my muscles ached and I was on edge from having to watch Fin lift boxes all morning.
He’d kept his distance from me since our debacle of a race on Monday. It was Sunday. We’d been able to go almost an entire week without mauling each other. I felt good about this. Of course I had to ignore the melting puddle of lust I became every time I stood in the same room as him, but that was just a minor detail.
What was worse, way, way, way worse, was that now, after our little heart to heart, I was attracted to Fin the person, not just Fin the man. And while he was a very, nice, very perfect man, he was an even better person, with depth and character and goodness. He was like my dream man and I couldn’t have him, or touch him, I probably shouldn’t even be looking at him.
All because of freaking Tara and her thieving, lying, cheating ways. She officially ruined my life.
“Lift from the knees!” Britte snapped at me. She had been throwing out random pieces of weightlifting advice all morning because she thought it was amusing. The first several times she told us to “Hydrate or Die-drate,” I laughed. Now, her advice was draining my patience.
“Beckett is pissed you didn’t ask him to help us,” I changed the subject before she could remind me to breath in through my mouth and out through my nose. “He texted me earlier to let me know how disappointed he was in you.”
“I know, he texted me too,” she said quietly, reverting into herself. She had been doing that lately, every time I brought up one of my brothers.
“He texted you? Since when do you guys text?” my jaw kind of hung open. Beckett didn’t text girls unless he was demanding a booty call. And since when had he and Britte exchanged numbers?
“Ok, Ellie, don’t hate me,” she whispered fiercely from the other side of the recliner.
We were carrying it upright through the parking lot since the base was the heaviest part, but had to readjust through the doorway.
“You should never start stories like that,” I whispered back and then realized I was whispering. I stood up straight and adjusted the chair so I could walk backwards up the next three flights of stairs with the light end.
Britte grunted from her end but continued, “So, in a night of drunken stupor, one that I don’t even remember…. Apparently Beckett and I….”
“Oh, no. What? What did you do?” I gasped, both impatient and reluctant to hear the end of this story.
“We made out, that’s it. Or that’s all that Beckett will tell me happened. Because honestly, I don’t remember. I am for sure still a virgin though, so we didn’t go that far,” she finished almost as an afterthought.
“How do you know for sure?” I went back to whispering, terrified for my friend and murderous for my brother.
“Because Beckett said, ‘Jesus Christ Britte, if I would have taken your virginity you would have goddamned remembered it,’” she flinched and then said, “That’s a direct quote.”