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“What happened to her today?” She held Finn’s gaze in the mirror, though her nerves raced, and she had to fight to keep from trembling.
“Her husband killed her because she slept with other men for money.” The anger had returned to his deep voice. “She works for that bastard Raymond Carlisle.” He slammed his fist into the counter and his knuckle split.
Gretchen didn’t flinch, instead she moved forward, wrapping her arms around his lean waist and resting her cheek against his back.
~ ~ ~
At Gretchen’s touch against his bare skin, the rising fire inside Finn began to wane, only to be replaced by a sudden urge to have Gretchen Christensen beneath him. Her fingertips pressed against his abdomen, above the band of his boxers, and there was something incredibly sexy and unassuming about her blunt nails painted a bright purple.
He pushed away from the counter and turned to face her, her hands sliding around his waist until they rested on each of his hips.
She raised her eyes to his. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Talking about his mother’s murder wouldn’t do him any good. When he left this town, he’d be looking for action, retribution. He clenched his jaw.
Lifting one hand from his hip, Gretchen cupped his cheek, her fingers tickling the stubble of his beard, before she brushed her thumb over his jaw, easing the aching tension there. The fabric of her tank top slid across his bare chest, causing him to suck in a breath as his balls tightened.
One of his hands moved to her waist as the other fisted around her braid. Tugging her closer, he crushed his mouth to hers. She hesitated for a moment before her lips parted on a sigh, giving him full access. His tongue dove inside. She tasted like sugar, pure, warm sugar, her soft moan making it that much sweeter. He wasn’t used to sweet or soft, and as his hands went from her narrow waist to the lush, round swell of her backside, soft was exactly what he got. Trailing kisses down her neck to the top of her tank, he squeezed her butt, and she arched against him. The warmth of her core reached him even through their clothes.
Finn guided her toward the bed, stopping when the mattress hit the backs of her thighs. He gazed down at her, and for the first time in his life wanted to please someone else before himself. He leaned down and took her mouth again. She tasted as warm and inviting as she smelled.
“You’re beautiful.” He’d never uttered those words to anyone, but they’d never been truer.
She ducked her head shyly, exposing her neck to his lips. His calloused hand slid beneath the hem of her shirt and she trembled, reaching for him with hands that shook.
He froze, studying her, even as she moved against him. “Gretchen, are you . . . have you ever?”
She met his stare then and shook her head slightly. “Is it that obvious?” She gave him a shaky smile.
Everything inside him froze, dulling the raging need for her and replacing it with anger at himself. What the hell had he been thinking?
“Jesus Christ, Gretchen.” He pulled away, running his hands over his face.
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I don’t really know what to do, but if you show me.”
He glared back at her as she stood by his bed with her blond braid coming unraveled and her eyes heavy with desire. She was a fucking siren, and he was having a hard time blocking out the song of her voice.
“We can’t do this,” he explained, unsure where he’d suddenly found a conscience.
“Yes, we can. I’m not scared, Finn, not with you.”
Ah hell.
“You’re a kid, Gretchen.”
Her smile vanished. “I’m eighteen. I’ll be living on my own in a week.”
“That doesn’t mean a thing, baby.” He shook his head. “You’re Brock’s little sister.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I was his sister before too,” she snapped. “It didn’t seem to bother you then. I thought guys got off on being the first.”
He didn’t know how other guys felt about her virginity, but he found her innocence both arousing and terrifying.
“Don’t be mad.” He reached for her, but she jerked away. “Gretchen, I can’t be the one. You don’t want to look back and remember your first time being with me.”
He couldn’t be her first, or likely any other number either. He had no business wanting a girl like Gretchen. She was too young, too innocent, and too purely good for someone as tainted as him.
“You’ll thank me,” he tried to assure her.
