Let Me: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family Book 2) (14 page)

He doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t have to. I already know he’s right. “Is that why I don’t enjoy it like I should, I’m afraid to be vulnerable?”

“Exposing yourself in such a way―when you feel compelled to stay in control during sex― doesn’t permit the pleasure the act can bring or allow the release that can come. But why do you think that is, where does this all stem from?”

As much as he’s opened my eyes, this isn’t a question I’m prepared to answer. Not yet.

“So then why was it worse with Sal?”

He doesn’t miss how I skipped over his question, but answers me anyway. “Because I think you like her more than you were prepared to, and more than you’re allowing yourself to believe.” He waits then asks, “Have you ever been in a serious relationship?”

My mind wanders back to “bat-shit crazy Chelsea”, “I’m a psycho and I own it Nancy”, and “I’m sorry I cheated on you, but you were at the gym and I was horny Lucille”. “No. Most of the women I’ve been with longer than a handful of times end up being crazy, skanks, or both.”

“But Salveenoa isn’t like that?”

“Who―oh, yeah. No, Sal’s not like them.”

He smiles. “Then what is she like?”

Beautiful, funny, kind
. Yeah, and didn’t I fuck that all up. “She’s a nice girl,” I answer. “Smart and  . . . I don’t know, she’s different is all.”

“And you like her.” He’s not really asking, more like interpreting what I’m trying to play down.

I rub my hands together, thinking about how shitty I’ve felt since she left. “Yeah, I do.”

“Finn,” he says, drawing my attention back to his face and away from the floor. “From what you’ve said, and based on how this experience with Sal has affected you, I think you want to be able to trust her in a way that’s different and more personal than the other women you’ve been intimate with. I think it means more to you, that you enjoy sex with her.”

“You’re saying I want her to make me come when she’s blowing me?” I ask.

“That’s one way to put it,” he agrees.

“But shouldn’t it be easier with her instead of harder―if what you say is true?”

“I don’t think so. Correct me if I’m wrong, but those other women you’ve had somewhat loose relationships with, they weren’t women you completely trusted, correct?”

“Oh, hell no,” I say, shuddering.

“So during times they performed oral sex, it was easier for you to detach yourself, to put up with what they were doing―likely by ignoring them. But with Sal, you’re already more attached, you already feel more toward her, thus you’re going feel more during the act―both the pleasure, and the vulnerability you don’t enjoy nor want to feel.”

“So how do I fix that?” I ask.

“You tell her,” he says like it’s that easy.

“If I tell her I don’t like head she’s going to think there’s something wrong with me.”

Good ol’ Mason doesn’t even try to deny it. “Perhaps, seeing how men are expected to enjoy it and long for it as you pointed out. But Finn, relationships―those that are more serious— require risks. You need to ask yourself if this young woman is worth taking the risk . . .”

CHAPTER 15

Sol

Damn it
.

I hurry to pick up the contents of my spilled purse from the floor, then shove my iPad it into my already packed bag. Dr. Harte’s door always sticks so I have to pull on it when I lock it. I’ve always managed to hang onto my belongings before. Not today.

I rush down the hall, anxious to leave. Three hours, that’s how long it took me to catch up on my reports. If I didn’t know Finn was meeting with Mason I’d be Beyoncé strutting my way out the door, happy I finished my work. Instead I’m all but stumbling out of here with what remains of my pride.

After four days, I should feel less humiliated, shouldn’t I? That dark cloud with thunder and lightning that followed me all the way back to my place after leaving Finn’s house should be gone and nothing, but a distant memory, correct?

No. Not at all. Those stupid bolts still strike. It’s not just the embarrassment that’s been slapping me around―and believe me, that’s bad enough. Finn hurt me, totally and completely crushed me. He was that one ray of light I looked forward to. The one who caused all my silly grins and giggles.

He was also the one who rocked my world. The way he touched me . . . Oh, my God. I lost total control, thrashing with each orgasm he gave me.

I thought he liked me. It’s what he claimed. And I believed him.

Until he kicked me out of his house.

“Call me when you get home,” he told me.

No fucking way
, I didn’t say.

As it was, I cried when I finally collapsed my bed, wondering what I did wrong. It’s not like I get naked in front of just anyone. But I did with Finn because I wanted to feel close to him. And he wanted to feel close to me, too.

Or so I thought.

Every time I reason he simply didn’t want me, I remember how hard I made him by standing in front of him naked. But then I’m reminded of how
uncomfortable
he seemed when I touched him.

So even though it’s been days since that horrible night, I’m still tempted to crawl into the nearest hole and die. But there’s no hole, and there’s still life, so for now here I am bolting out into the main hall as fast as I can.

I step into the elevator, sighing with relief as I punch the button to the lobby. Yet my relief turns to panic when I hear steps stomping quickly forward and Mason calling, “Hold the door please!”

I can’t hit the button to shut the doors fast enough. But Mason must have been a ninja in his former life because he’s suddenly there, his hand shooting out, catching the doors before they can finish closing.

Oh, and look . . . Finn is right behind him.

“Hello,” Mason says when he sees that it’s me.

“Hi,” I spit out, averting my attention away from where Finn is standing frozen in front of us.

I edge back and to the corner, my face burning hot enough to set off the nearest smoke detector when Finn slips inside. I almost expect him to stay in the front, or march to the opposite corner―as in keep his distance the hell away from me. Instead he positions himself beside me, his back falling against the wall as he crosses his arms. “Hey,” he says.

Mason turns around, smiling politely. “Finn this is my intern Sol―”

His smile abruptly fades, his attention bouncing between my heated face and Finn’s. There are people who can pull off poker faces and then there’s us. Finn’s normally fair skin is red from his neck to his forehead. Although my skin’s olive, my blush is as bright as a woman kicked out of a man’s pad after blowing him, because hey, that’s exactly what went down.

Mason turns back to the front of the elevator, his head falling forward as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Dear. God. What did Finn tell my boss about me?

“I take it you know each other?” he says, dropping his hand away.

“Um,” I say at the same time Finn says, “Ah.”

Freaking geniuses, that’s what we are.

The five levels we have to travel are the longest of my life. I should tell Mason we’ve known each other a few years, and that my cousin is married to his brother―something! But by now, it’s so obvious we’ve seen each other naked, it’s all I can do not to climb through the vent and make my escape.

The elevator dings open at the bottom and Mason steps out. “Goodbye,” he says, going toward the parking lot on the left, while I shoot to the right.

“Sol, wait,” Finn calls out.

Of course, I don’t. As soon as I’m through the double doors I take off in a sprint.

Finn, the MMA trained badass he is, keeps up in a steady jog. He doesn’t say anything, simply running beside me like he has all the time in the world. When it’s clear he’s not going to allow me to leave, I ground to a stop, whirling to face him.

“Did you tell Mason about us? About what happened Saturday night?”

He shoves his hands into his black biker jacket and glances around. “No?” he offers, like he’s not sure what the right answer is.

My stomach skitters down to cower behind my uterus. “Did you tell him what I did to you? About . . .” I can’t even get the words out. But as I catch Finn’s expression, and all the guilt marching across it, I know I don’t have to ask. Everything I wanted to know and didn’t want him to say is right there. I clench my fists, trying to beat back the sting his betrayal causes. “I can’t believe you’d do that to me.”

I try to walk away, but Finn clasps my elbow, holding me in place. “Sol, wait. It’s not like that. I didn’t tell him it was you. I told him it was someone else.”

I glance at the way he’s holding me, as if what happened between us didn’t happen. But I know better, and because of it, what I have to say causes my voice to tremble. “But he knows it’s me,” I point out. “I can tell by the way he reacted.”

“Don’t you mean by the way
we
reacted?” His fingers slide down my arm to link with my hand, the motion so intimate, it’s more like he’s kissing me than simply stroking my skin.

“It’s hard not to react considering what happened.” I swallow hard. “I’m not exactly made of stone.”

He pulls me toward him, grasping my other hand. “I know you’re not, beautiful.”

“Don’t call me that,” I say, averting my gaze.

“Why?” he murmurs. “It’s what you are.”

I lift my chin, wanting to wrench away and yell at him. After all, he deserves that and possibly a kick to the balls. Not only did he humiliate me in his home, but then he embarrassed me at work. But as my face meets his, I don’t see that idiot who told me to go home―the one who made me cry and who spilled the dirty details to my boss. I see Finn, his soft stare meeting mine and that gorgeous face that reveals both his hardness and his innocence.

This sucks. I’ve spent the last few days trying to convince myself he’s not who I need, and not worth my time. But now, the way he takes me in, I’m not so sure. Puppy dog eyes aside, I refuse to swoon. He owes me an apology.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his tone something I feel down to my bones.

I bite my lip. Okay . . . he may have apologized, but it’s not enough. He owes me an explanation. “Why did you tell Mason about what happened between us?”

Finn tightens his jaw. When it becomes clear he isn’t going to answer, I pull away and start walking toward my car. He trails me behind me, matching my slow pace, but keeping quiet.

I unlock my car, sighing when he leans against the rear door and crosses his arms. “I wasn’t bragging,” he says, staring ahead and onto the main road. “Back there, when I told Mason what happened between us, I didn’t tell him what I did to make me look good.”

“All right,” I say, glancing his way. “Because you didn’t.”

He winces like I hurt him, but he’s not the only one in pain. “I really liked you,” I confess, my words heavy with emotion I wish I could hold back. “You didn’t have to treat me this way.”

He angles his chin to meet me square in the eyes. “I didn’t mean to treat you anyway but good,” he says.

“I wish I could believe you,” I respond, reaching for the car door. “But I can’t.”

“Wait,” he says. He mutters a curse, turning away from me briefly. “Look, what happened between us was messed up.”

“Thanks,” I mumble.

“Not what you did,” he adds quickly. “And not how you did it.”

I almost expect that grin when I glance up at him, but it’s noticeably absent. Instead shadows darken his face as the sunlight creeps behind the distant buildings and the February chill gathers around us. “There’re lots of reasons I’m seeing Mason,” he says. “Like I’ve told you, I have a lot of rage―anger that sets me off that I can’t control. But I also have a lot of numbness . . . numbness I don’t feel around you.”

The rage I did know about, not only because he told me, but primarily because of his chosen career. Boxers, MMA fighters, people who get paid to knock someone out, don’t just fight because it’s something they’re good at. There’s always more to it: a history of pain, some past trauma. I don’t know much about Finn’s childhood. But he’s mentioned his absentee father who cheated on his mother, so I know enough to assume it wasn’t ideal. Recognizing as much should scare me, yet it never has. That numbness, however, does scare me.

“When you say you feel numb, what do you mean?”

He shrugs, kicking at bits of remaining salt littering the lot. “It’s hard explain. I sort of check out. My mind’s still there, but my body isn’t. It’s like if someone were to come up to me and stab me in the gut, I’m not so sure I’d feel it, at least not as much as I should. The initial sharpness of that knife going in might be there, but the twist and burn would likely fade away.”

My mouth falls open as the power of his words dig in. Everything he says should have me stepping further away. This is a man who’s deeply hurt. So then why is it taking me everything not to throw my arms around him?

He frowns as he looks up to where a crowd of young men have started to gather at the corner, motioning in our direction.

“Check her out,” one of the bigger ones says.

“Get in the car,” Finn tells me, as the entire group looks our way.

I do as he asks and lock the door, quickly starting the engine. It’s not a bad area since we’re outside of the city, but teens sometimes do stupid things and it’s best not to wait around for them to act on their stupidity.

Finn, being street, doesn’t rush to the other side, even after I hurry to unlock the passenger door. He pushes off the car and walks in slow careful strides toward one of the older teens when he leaves the group and treads in our direction. Another young man follows behind him, but the way the remaining few exchange glances, they aren’t far behind.

“You have a problem with me?” Finn asks, meeting the leader square in the face.

The command in his voice freezes them in place, but Finn doesn’t wait for them to change their minds and continues advancing. The teens know they’re in trouble, and begin to back away fast.

It’s only then Finn stops. He keeps his eye on the group, returning to my car and slipping inside only after they disappear around the corner.