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I just didn't want to do it.
I wanted to be able to move forward. With Finn. And without the lies and misunderstandings between us.
Maybe I should have been pissed with him for lying to me, for inserting himself into my life under false pretenses. But the man had nearly killed another man for me.
I'd seen the pictures of Blake someone had snapped of him on the stretcher.
I had done some serious damage. He'd lost the eye.
But Finn? Finn had practically rearranged the rest of Blake's features, had snapped four ribs, had broken Blake's wrists.
Could you stay mad at a man who could do that much bodily harm in your honor?
I certainly couldn't.
So we went ahead and moved forward.
Except now, my nosy ass asked a lot of questions about his line of work. After he'd gotten his okay from Quin, he'd even given me some loose details about the cases I'd had on my wall.
It felt good to have answers about something that I'd been obsessed with for so long, even if they weren't at all what I'd thought they would be.
Finn and his coworkers hadn't killed anyone.
They'd been called in when others had killed people. And, in my expert opinion on the matter, those people died for good reason. Quin and his team had simply cleaned up the mess, made it disappear.
Did that toe—if not outright overstep—the line? Yes. But I understood how things worked. Especially in our town. Sometimes, crime had to happen. And not everyone who committed it was guilty morally, even if the justice system would call them guilty by technicality.
"Babe..." Finn grumbled, appearing out of nowhere when I rang my bell.
Did I previously own a bell?
Nope.
Did he buy me one to use on him?
No, no he did not.
Did I order next-day shipping on one just to fuck with him?
I absolutely did.
"What?" I asked, playing innocent.
"I just walked away," he informed me. "Do you want your coffee or not?" he asked, shaking his head at me.
"You forgot something," I said, watching as his brows furrowed.
"What?"
"Right here," I said, motioning in front of me, making him walk curiously around the couch.
"Right where?" he asked.
"Right here," I declared, reaching up to grab him. Catching him off-guard, he had no choice but to fall forward, using my body to break his fall.
"Poppy, no," he said, pushing up onto his hands, trying to get away even as my arms and legs wrapped him up, held him close.
"Finn, yes," I objected, leaning up to press my lips to his neck, feeling him swallow hard.
"You're hurt."
"I'm fine," I informed him. Like I'd been doing for days now since the jerk refused to do anything more than stroke my hair or hold me.
"You've been through—"
"I was there," I cut him off. "Doesn't change the fact that I want you," I told him, feeling that rumble when it moved through his chest, knowing I was wearing him down.
Was I still kinda bruised? Sure. I had some sore spots. And my fingertips still ached thanks to the cuts I'd gotten trying to remove the handle from the bucket. But I'd been lucky. It was all minor.
The need I had to have his hands on me again, though? That was major.
"Poppy," Finn tried again, voice strained as my hips started grinding against the hard length of him through his pants.
"A good nursemaid does whatever it takes to make his patient feel better," I informed him.
"Is that right?" he asked, smirking down at me.
"It is."
"Well then," he said, sealing his lips to mine, careful, since I'd already broken the stupid cut on my lip open twice as it tried to heal.
His hand was less careful, though, as it slipped under my shirt, grabbing my breast, squeezing before finding my nipple, and rolling it between his fingers.
From there, his impatient fingers slipped into my panties, starting to fuck me quickly before I was writhing and demanding more.
My greedy fingers yanked at the waistbands of his pants and underwear, dragging them down.
Finn balanced on one arm while reaching into my purse on the coffee table, fumbling around for a condom, then sliding one on before shucking off my pants and underwear, then slamming inside me.
On his knees, he dragged my legs up to his shoulder as his fingers worked my clit as he started to fuck me. Slow and careful at first, then harder, faster, needier, when the past week and a half of no contact got the better of us both, leaving us clawing and moaning and crashing through an orgasm together only a few moments later.
"Hey, Finn," I called, patting his butt as he rested on me, trying to pull himself back together.
"Yeah?" he asked, sounding exhausted.
"I still kind of want that coffee," I informed him, smiling when his laugh rumbled through him.
"Of course you do," he agreed, pushing up to press a kiss to my forehead before moving away to make it for me.
