Falling for Finn (7 page)

He noticed. A strange expression passed over his face. “Relax, Green Eyes.” His voice was velvet softness and heat, like the single malt they’d been drinking. “You call the shots. We can do this now or later. It’s up to you.”

She swallowed again. So stupid, this fear and apprehension. Because there was nothing to be afraid of. Nothing at all. “Now,” she said, trying for decisive.

Silence. Tension tightening all around them.

Finn made no move, his posture loose and easy. “Then whenever you’re ready.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be ready.”

“Do you want a push?”

“No.” She had to do this herself. She had to take that first step. Otherwise she’d never get rid of this fear. She’d be trapped in it forever like a fly in amber. Anna took a soft breath. “Take off your T-shirt.”

He kept still for a beat, looking at her. Slowly he pushed himself away from the breakfast bar. His hands went to the hem of his T-shirt. Then in one smooth, fluid movement, he pulled it up and off over his head.

The breath caught in her throat.

Wide, powerful shoulders, muscled from all those extreme sports he threw himself into with such abandon. Sharply defined chest and abdomen, not an ounce of fat on him. Tawny skin, tanned and smooth, a light sprinkling of gold hair.

She’d seen him without a T-shirt on many times. The sight wasn’t new.

But she’d never allowed herself to really
see
before.

And he was so fine. So very fine.

Finn dropped his T-shirt on the floor, dark eyes holding hers. “You like the view?”

She could lie, but that would be doing them both a disservice. “Yes.” God, was that really her voice?

His mouth curled. “Good. Now it’s your turn.”

“M-my turn?”

“You have to take your shirt off too.” Ah. She hadn’t really planned on doing that until she felt more comfortable. And she wasn’t feeling comfortable, which was something she hadn’t expected, given Finn had seen her without a shirt many times before. She felt too hot, too breathless. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

“So you’re going to leave me standing here half naked?” His grin deepened, warm, familiar. “How is that fair?”

He’d always had the ability to make her feel better, whatever the situation. And that hadn’t changed. Even in this weird, strange, almost unbelievable situation they were in now.

Her blouse hadn’t been torn. Had she opened the buttons for him? Or had he done it himself? She couldn’t remember.

The insidious thought came out of nowhere. Anna fought it. She was here to give herself some new memories, right? So who cared what happened then? What mattered was what happened here. Now.

Her palms were sweaty with nervousness and her hands shook, but somehow she managed to get a grip on her own T-shirt and pull it off. Probably with less grace than Finn had, but still.

As she dropped it on the ground and shook her hair out of her eyes, she heard him say something soft. A sense of exposure flooded through her, and she almost put her hands over her breasts, despite the fact that they were already covered fully by the black cotton bra she wore.

No. No fear. This wasn’t some nameless, faceless stranger. This was Finn. Whom she trusted.

Slowly, she looked at him and found him looking back at her, as if she were a miracle he’d been praying for.

Her cheeks heated with sudden embarrassment. “Stop looking at me like that.”

But he shook his head. “Uh uh. I’ve been dreaming of looking at you like this for fifteen years. I’m not going to stop now.”

The look in his eyes as he took her in, from her shoulders down over her breasts to the waistband of her jeans… Hot. So hot.

Awareness flared deep inside her. A hungry feeling. An ache. One she’d never felt before. Not even with Michael. The intensity of it scared her, and she had to force herself to breathe.

His gaze returned to her face. “Beautiful, Anna. You’re beautiful.”
 

She felt even hotter. Somehow this was getting away from her, and she didn’t like it. “I thought I was calling the shots?”

Finn searched her face for a second. “You are.”

“Then stop looking at me. And take off your jeans.”

“So forceful, Green Eyes. I like it.” A tease, but his voice was hoarse, color burning on his cheekbones. Heat in his eyes. He bent, undoing the laces on his shoes before pulling them off. Then his fingers went to the button on his jeans, an easy, slow twist. Moving to the zip, pulling it down. His hands on the waistband, shoving down the denim. Stepping free.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Couldn’t look away.

Muscular thighs, lean calves. And higher… Black cotton, close-fitting boxer briefs, an arrow of golden hair that went down underneath the waistband, pointing to something pressing hard against the cotton. The outline of…

Oh God.

The breath went out of her and she tore her gaze away, her cheeks on fire. This was insane. Ogling her best friend like he was… No, she couldn’t handle this. Could she?

“Your turn again.”

Anna wanted to say no. She wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready for any of this. And yet all the same her fingers were undoing her zip, pushing down her jeans. There was a hideously embarrassing moment when they caught on her sandals and she fumbled the buckles, trying to get the sandals off. But then, eventually, they were gone, and she stood up again like he was, only in her underwear.

“Anna.” His voice a soft whisper. Reverent.

But she couldn’t deal with the look on his face. The expression in his eyes. It was too much. Everything about this was too much. Fear clogged her throat, her hands in fists at her sides. She struggled to breathe, panic beating hard behind her rib cage. “I don’t think I can…” she began in a strangled voice and stopped, unable to finish.

Finn didn’t move. “Turn around,” he said softly.

For some reason this seemed a very good idea, and as soon as she did, she felt immediate relief. Now he couldn’t see her face. Couldn’t see the fear she knew was stamped all over it. God, how pathetic was that? When all he’d done was take his clothes off.

She began to tremble, not knowing what was next. Her skin sensitized, like all her flesh had been stripped away, leaving only nerve endings.

Restlessness wound tightly inside her. And then she felt him. Close. The heat from him like a ray of sunshine on her back.

His hands touched her shoulders and she gasped, a sharply indrawn breath, shaking with tension.

“It’s okay, Anna.” Reassurance in his voice. His thumbs moved, pressing into the muscles along her shoulders, a gentle pressure. “Relax.”

Everything knotted, the tension twisted to screaming point.

And then he began stroking down her back, along her spine, soothing. Easing.

He’d done this many times, this gentle massage. After he’d dragged her mountain biking or rock climbing or on any other of his crazy outdoor trips. When she’d been aching and sore and tired, he’d eased away the hurts. Better than painkillers.

“Better than sex?” he’d joked.

“Way better,” she’d always replied.

The familiarity of it calmed her, the tension in her muscles relaxing. She took a shaken breath, panic receding. She could do this. She really could.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his hands moving slowly up and down her spine in a caressing movement. “Do you want to keep going? We can stop if you want. Anytime.”

“No, I don’t want to stop.” She would fight this fear. Just like she’d fought all those other times, with Finn encouraging her, pushing her. He made her strong and she couldn’t forget that.

“Okay.” His fingers slid under the strap of her bra, stroking her skin, and she couldn’t stop the shiver that went through her. “I want to take this off.”

She closed her eyes. It was the next logical step, wasn’t it? “Yes.”

“Shall I do it or do you want to?”

The decision loomed over her. Too hard. Too hard. Moistening her mouth, she managed, “Y-you.” Because the thought of wrestling with her bra strap seemed an impossible task.

Finn said nothing, but she felt the material pull tight, then release, the cups loosening. Cool air against her skin. She shivered again, unable to help it, her breathing ragged.

His fingers slid underneath the straps on her shoulders, easing them down, the material falling away from her body.

“Finn…”

“Lean back, beautiful.” His breath felt warm against her shoulder. “Lean into me.”

Beautiful. He’d never called her that before.

Anna leaned back, biting her lip as his body pressed the length of her spine. God. He was so big. Oh, she’d known he was a tall, muscular guy. Whenever he’d given her one of his big Finn bear hugs, she’d always felt so small, enveloped by him. And she’d always kind of liked it. But now, in a sexual situation, it was…strange. A whisper of fear went through her.

He felt hot against her back. Like he’d been lying in the sun all day, soaking up the heat, and was now radiating it into her.

She kept her eyes tightly closed, trying not to shake as she leaned against him, naked to the waist.

The sense of exposure deepened, and she raised her hands in a helpless covering motion. But then his fingers circled her wrists, holding her lightly, preventing her.

“Stop.” A subtle shift and his whole body pressed to hers. All down her arms, across her shoulders, down her back. The heat of his groin against the curve of her buttocks.

Nameless panic gripped her. He must have sensed her sudden tension because abruptly his arms wrapped around her, holding her.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his breath against her ear. “I’ve got you, Anna. I’ve got you.” And he had. She was surrounded by him. By his heat, the hard strength of his arms around her, the muscular power of his body against her back. Keeping her safe. Like he always did.

She swallowed. So familiar to be held by him. So right. He would never hurt her. Never.

Panic ebbed and she found herself relaxing into him.

The light, sun-and-salt smell that was all Finn had a spicier, muskier undertone now. A scent that hit her on a visceral level. Intensely male. A scent that signaled arousal. Desire.

“Better?” he whispered, and when she nodded, the arms around her fell away. But his fingers lingered, stroking her forearms, raising all the hairs on the back of them, shivers chasing everywhere. Then his hands moved to her waist, settling for a moment.

“I want to touch you.”

She nodded again. Yes, she wanted it too, more of that gentle, calming touch.

His hands moved against her sides, thumbs caressing her skin, easing higher.

Higher.

Okay, not so calming now. Anna began to tremble. Her breasts felt unbearably sensitive, and when his thumbs gently stroked the soft undersides of them, she couldn’t stop the soft gasp of shock that broke from her, the sensation dizzying.

“Finn…” A ragged little whisper. “I-I’m not ready for this…”

“It’s okay.” She felt his head turn and then, shockingly, the brush of something soft against the side of her neck. His mouth. “Breathe.”

The breath rushed in, and as her chest rose, his hands slid up, covering her breasts.

A cry broke from her, sensation flooding through her like a wave. Too much. Too intense. “No! Ah, God, Finn.” She tried to pull away, tried to remember that word she was supposed to say. “C-Clive!”

Instantly he stopped, his hands falling away.

And she was left standing there, a cold wind at her back, the warm shelter of his arms gone. Trembling.

He’d never hated the sound of his middle name more. But safe words were safe words, and he’d never break her trust like that.

She stood with her back to him, short haircut exposing the vulnerable nape of her neck. Small and delicate. Pale and perfectly formed. She hugged herself as if cold.

He wanted to take her in his arms again, but clearly that was going to be a bad idea. Already he’d gone too fast for her.

“Do you want to stop?” He had to force himself to speak, so close to the edge he could barely manage it. “Because we can.”

Christ, he was so hard. His cock ached. Everything ached. He could still feel her skin beneath his fingers, like the memory of it had soaked into his hands. So silky and soft and warm. The weight of her small, perfect breasts. Hard little nipples pressing into his palms. Better than any of his fantasies.

He curled his fingers into fists, as if to keep the memory of the feel of her inside.

“I don’t know.” She kept her back to him. “I thought I was ready. I thought I could do it.”

“You
can
do it.” Because she could. He knew how strong she was. When she set her mind to something, she could do anything. “What was it that scared you?”

“I’m…I’m not sure. It was just too much.”

He stared at her back, wanting to trace the bones of her spine with his fingers, run them along the silky warmth of her skin. All his instincts were telling him to touch, to push, and he had to take a long, slow breath to get them straight in his head. Taking his time the way he had to do when reading his scripts.