“Finn?” I ask, leaning away from Sam.
“Yeah?” He leans the rest of the way so that our noses are touching.
“Does Sam know something about our little…ruse?”
Finn’s awkward cough tells me everything I need to know.
“Finn!” I whisper and shout at the same time.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should have told you, but I just didn’t want you to worry!”
“Oh, yeah, well, now that I know that you know, I’m definitely way less worried than I would have been…Oh wait!”
“Look, he dropped the bomb on me a couple of weeks ago. He’s the one who mentioned seeing you out on a date a few months ago so he knew our timeline was bullshit. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“Hey, asshole, don’t try turn this around on me!” I let my mouth fall near his ear. “Focus on the shit you’ve done!”
“Nice deflection.” Finn smiles down at me and I hate how hot he looks.
“Right back at you.”
I move to sit back upright, but Finn’s arm wraps itself over my shoulder, his hand pushing on my chest until my back is against his chest. A very hard chest, I should probably add.
“Don’t know where you think you’re going, Cherry, baby.” His thumb drags across my jawline, a light swipe that sends a shiver through me.
“Worried I might go somewhere?”
His chuckle rumbles through his chest and I feel it on my back. “Worried I might go crazy if I don’t feel you against me.”
I hack out a surprised laugh. “You’re drunk.”
“After one drink?”
“Just one? Seriously?”
“I have to drive you home. I’m surprised my OCD allowed me even one knowing I have such precious cargo in my car.”
Guilt clenches my chest. “Why don’t I chug a bunch of water and I can drive us back? I only had two.”
Finn kisses my temple three times. “No, love. You deserve a night where you just get to enjoy yourself.”
“And you don’t?”
I turn to see him smirking at me. “Watching you enjoying yourselfisme enjoying myself.”
That shuts me up and makes me down the rest of my beer, hoping it’ll shut off the buzzing and the warmth coursing through my veins.
ChapterTwenty-One
OAKLEIGH
I’m one thumb circle and a kiss on the temple away from losing my shit.
There’s faking a relationship, and then there’s whatever the fuck the two of us are doing. I can’t even say he’s laying it on thick, because he isn’t, but whatever he’s doing is so much that my nerves are shot.
He’s been keeping me close all evening, a possessive hand always close by. Between each of his turns playing pool, his finger is tracing shapes on the sliver of exposed skin on my lower back. When we’re sitting at the booth, his thumb is tracing teasing circles on the inside of my thigh, leaving me a quivering mess with crossed legs.
Me? I’ve been actively ignoring the empty seat beside him, choosing to instead perch myself on his lap like some piece of eye candy. My hand has barely stopped tracing shapes and letters on the back of his neck, mostly because I enjoy the way it makes him shiver.
