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“Mm-hmm. All the time when I got off my shifts at the bar. Although it usually led to something else.” Her voice came out breathy and wanting.
He swallowed, his body burning with white-hot flames of desire for this gorgeous woman beside him. “I may not remember you in here.” He tapped his temple. “But my body seems to remember you.”
Every fucking molecule seemed destined to bend towards her, seeking more flame. She was pure sunshine, and Finn didn’t care if she incinerated him. He just needed to capture some of her warmth, a burst of her solar flare. Burning alive had never been more enticing.
Charli leaned forward too, her hand reaching to cup his face. His jaw, peppered with rough bristles, brushed against the buttery softness of her skin. Her chest rose and fell more rapidly, sending bursts of her sweet breath against his lips. Still, she continued her caress as if his roughness was what she desired. Her brown eyes heated, locked on to his, holding him prisoner in her wanton gaze. “Finn?”
His name was soft against his lips, breaking his self-control. He crashed his mouth to hers. Red and white flashes of searing heat lashed against his skin, burrowing to his core. One hand fisted in her hair, pulling her closer, and the other cupped her neck.
He swallowed her moan with his own sound of pleasure. Leaning over her, he laid her on the couch, cursing the clothes between them. Charli’s tongue dipped into his mouth, and he lost all ability to think, forced only to feel. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh.
It was too much and not enough all at the same time. Needing more, he ran his palms down her arms until he found her hands. He lifted them above her head and held them against the armrest, his fingers interwoven with hers. She bit down and raked her teeth across his bottom lip, making him growl and press his hard cock directly against her hot center. His body burst into flames from the contact. Finn thrust again, seeking relief, the sensation from the friction incredible, wishing to dive deep inside her. Nothing else mattered.
Charli let out a whimper and wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him on. The couch creaked with every thrust. Her kiss drugged him, intoxicating him with the duality of her taste and her tongue. His palm slid down her arm to the curve of her breast and over her hard nipple. Jesus, she’s so soft, yet firm. His cock twitched as he explored the luscious peaks. Excitement built as he satisfied his curiosity and explored her body.
She arched her back. “Finn!” His name on her lips only made the pulse inside his cock beat faster. With her hand now freed from Finn’s grip, Charli’s fingers reached for the button of his pants, releasing some of the pain caused by the harsh denim prison that had contained his engorged dick.
He palmed her breast, loving the way it fit perfectly in his hand. She only kissed him back harder. Her hand slid over the waistband of his boxers. He hissed as her soft touch seared his skin like a tattoo.
Sliding his hand over the swell of her belly, he froze. She was pregnant. There was a baby in there. Shit!
He jerked off of her, scrambling to his feet. “Fuck! I’m sorry, Charli.”
She winced and sat up, running a hand over her belly.
Had he hurt her? Was the baby okay?
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I shouldn’t have—”
She held up a hand and nodded. Hurt and rejection flashed in her eyes. “It’s okay. I get it.”
But she didn’t. Not really. Damn it! He didn’t want to cause her any pain. That was why he’d backed off.
She got to her feet, straightening her clothes and brushed past him.
“Charli?”
“I’m going to bed.” Her voice was strained as if she was about to fall apart. She didn’t turn around to look at him as she walked up the stairs.
He sighed and sat on the couch. “What the fuck were you thinking, Finn?” He’d dry-humped her on the sofa. Had he squished her? Was she alright?
“Of course, she isn’t, dickhead,” he snapped at himself.
Why did this have to be so hard? He should march up there right now and tell her she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. That he wanted to be the Finn in the video for her. But what if he’d screwed it up by thinking with his cock? He should have been more worried about her instead of crushing her into the couch like that. He buttoned his pants.
Finn lay on the sofa, slinging his arm over his eyes. Each place she’d touched him now felt cold. What if he went up there and she told him he’d never measure up to her expectations, because he was only a shadow of the man he once was? If he went upstairs, he’d only disappoint her more. He had no idea what he was doing sexually. Not to mention he’d probably hurt her, and she probably wanted nothing to do with him now. No, he’d stay here and hope tomorrow would come and that the sun would rise with it.
* * *
After two hours of tossing and turning on the couch, Finn gave up. He shrugged his sweatshirt on and slipped his boots over his feet before going out to the garage. He placed his palm to the wall until he found the plastic switch and flicked the lights on. The space was organized neatly, all but for the sheen of dust over everything except the motorcycle that sat front and center in the single bay. He ran his hand over the gleaming metal and cherry red paint. It was beautiful. He turned, taking in the array of tools hanging on the wall by the workbench. A few shelves with odds and ends were stationed across the room. Several boxes had been stacked in a corner, leaning against the shelving unit with labeled bins.
He walked over to the bench, finding more magazines and a few manuals on the mechanics of engines. A smaller leather-bound book between them caught his attention. He pulled it out and turned it over in his hands before opening it. His own scrawl stared back at him. A journal. A dull thud pulsed in his head—a flicker of a memory, more like a wisp of smoke.
He flipped the page, Charli’s name catching his eye.
I don’t know how long I can keep doing this. Charli . . . I just can’t do this anymore. She can’t choose him again. We won’t survive it. Maybe one day she’ll forgive me. Maybe one day I’ll forgive her. But Damon has to go. It would destroy her to do it, so I’ll make that choice for her. I can’t share her like this. She’s my wife. She isn’t his to love and protect. Only mine. If I have to break her heart to get him out of her life, I will. Real love doesn’t hurt someone the way he hurt her. I’ll show her what it is to be loved, and eventually she’ll move on from him.
What the fuck? Piercing pain split his vision as he searched the page. There was no date on the entry. In the videos Charli had shared with him they’d been so happy. But here it was in black and white—his own damn words—not everything was as it seemed. What had Charli done? Who was Damon? Had Charli cheated on him? Had Finn been planning to leave her? Was this all a lie? He needed answers. Flipping the page, the words blurred as the room spun.
