Run (The Tesla Effect #2) (17 page)

Finn dropped her hands, and it was his turn to stare down at the bed rather than meet Tesla’s eyes which searched his face for some kind of clue.

“Finn, you said we had to be honest. You said we shouldn’t be embarrassed. Whether we like it or not, we’re in this together.”

“I know,” he said, and she heard the reluctance, as well as the acceptance, but despite her words, she hadn’t told
him
everything. She didn’t tell him that she’d felt his self-hatred, his guilt, his need to lash out and hurt, to cause pain.

“Look, I haven’t really processed it,” he said haltingly. “It just happened, and then I went to the Bat Cave because Sam said you were coming back tonight. I—my father showed up.”

Tesla couldn’t fully understand the weight of his statement, but she accurately read in his voice that this was huge. She reached over and took his hands in hers, but he flinched and drew his right hand back just a bit from her grip and she immediately looked at his hand, saw the oozing, raw knuckles, the swollen joints, the bruising.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she gasped, letting go of his hand immediately. “What did you do to your hand?”

And then, so unexpectedly that her mouth fell open in surprise, he grinned and said, “I punched my father in the mouth.”

Tesla finished wrapping the sterile gauze around Finn’s hand and secured it with a strip of athletic tape she’d found in the bathroom cupboard and ripped to the appropriate length with her teeth. Finn’s hand lay on a pillow in her lap throughout her very serious ministrations, which he found adorable, and disconcertingly sexy. She had taken on yet another aspect—how many faces of Tesla Abbott were there, he wondered—she was stern, no-nonsense, and completely in charge. She had marched him down the hall to the bathroom despite his protests, bathed his torn, bloody hand in warm, soapy water, and patted it dry so gently that he barely felt the sting. Then she had rummaged in the medicine cabinet until she found antibiotic ointment, gauze and tape—the tape Beckett used to wrap her hands when she boxed—and led him back by his other hand to his bedroom, all trace of shyness gone from her. He watched her walk, just in front of him, down the dimly lit hallway, the rolled waistband of his boxers sliding lower, further away from the slender curve of her waist and the tight little shirt she wore. Her bare skin gleamed, twin shadows dusting the hollows on the lowest part of her back…

He was already thinking about a Halloween costume he would love to see Tesla in. Naughty Nurse—oh, wait, maybe Hot Teacher. With heavy glasses.
Even better
. Wisely, he mentioned none of this to her.

Tesla made one final adjustment to the bandage before sitting back, satisfied that her patient would live, and insisted that Finn tell her the entire story. He did, and it took all of two minutes.

“That’s it,” he said, shrugging when she looked skeptical. “Look, Tes, I’ve never met the man. We spent five minutes together. He called me ‘son,’ and I hit him. End of story.”

Tesla cocked her head slightly to the side, her blue-and-green eyes glittering in the low lamplight that shone from across the room as she considered him.

“Do you believe him?”

“Do I believe he didn’t know about me until three days ago?”

“Well, I guess that, too,” she said. “But I really meant the most basic thing: do you believe he actually
is
your father?”

Finn’s breath stopped, and he just stared at her without seeing. “I—I never questioned that,” he said slowly. “Yes, I believe him. I’m not sure why, but that part of it seems beyond doubt, for whatever reason.” He frowned. “Not exactly a proud journalistic moment, I suppose. And I’m usually such a skeptic.”

Tesla felt a faint hint of his earlier emotions, a pulse of hurt and anger and vulnerability and she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the mouth, a soft press of her lips against his—just that, and held—it was an intimate, wordless connection that was filled with tenderness and comfort.

When she backed slowly away, their eyes met and locked. Finn settled his bandaged hand at the back of Tesla’s head, and neither of them blinked as he pulled her slowly, effortlessly toward him, his fingers tangled in the silken dark mass of her hair. As her face neared his she unfolded her legs, pressed her knees into the mattress and leaned in. Their mouths touched, and the tender, gentle kiss of a moment ago was quickly succeeded by something stronger, something urgent and demanding. Tesla’s lips parted, her hand touched his face, and she slid her tongue along the fullness of his lower lip.

Finn made a low sound and turned, and somehow—Tesla wasn’t quite sure how it happened—she was suddenly on her back, his bandaged hand still behind her head, and Finn lay partly beside her, partly over her, the weight of his upper body supported by his other arm, where he leaned on his elbow.

His mouth was hot, and she felt his fingers curl tightly in her hair at the base of her neck, felt the hard muscles of his back and shoulders where her hands moved under his T-shirt though she wasn’t sure when she’d done
that
. Her heart beat hard and fast and she felt his simultaneously, felt its rhythm in her hands, in their mouths, in her right hip and leg that were pressed up against him, in the heat of his skin beneath her hands.

Oh my God
, she thought, dizzy, wondering if this was just the most amazing kiss in the history of human sexuality or if this entanglement of theirs was a much better deal than she had been led to believe. She broke away, turning her face slightly to the side so her mouth was free, and he lifted his face from hers, a question in his eyes, and the only indication that time itself had not stopped was the sound of their breathing.

“Tes—Jesus,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re...should I stop?”

“Stop kissing me?” she asked incredulously, her voice shaking. “Don’t you dare.”

Finn smiled wickedly and crushed her to him again.

CHAPTER 20

Finn woke first, and as he opened his eyes and brought the world into focus, all he saw was a curling mess of long, tangled dark hair and early morning light seeping into his bedroom through the spaces between the window blinds. He blinked once, and just as he was about to move, his brain quickly assessed the situation and he froze.

He didn’t even breathe; he couldn’t. He was lying on his side, spooned up against Tesla’s back. They had no covers on—they were still lying on top of the comforter, and though his back was cold from the chilly air in the room, his chest and stomach were not—everywhere he touched her he was warm. He was shoeless, shirtless, wearing only the jeans he’d had on yesterday. Tesla, from what he could gather without moving anything but his eyes, seemed to have both the hoodie and boxers he’d lent her intact. The night came rushing back to him in detail, and when he decided he had to move and tried to do so slowly and quietly so as not to wake her, he realized his bandaged hand was lying against her skin, cupping her breast inside the hoodie she wore.

He froze again, though his hand beneath the bandage, as well as his bare forearm and wrist that held her tightly against him, were suddenly on fire.

Before he could formulate a witty remark to ease the embarrassment that was sure to follow, Tesla rolled toward him, he pulled his hand quickly out from under her clothes, and lay there blinking at her like the moron she’d accused him of being the night before.

Her eyes were bright and clear, her face slightly flushed from sleep, and her lips beautifully pink and slightly swollen from all the kissing. He just stared at her, the irony of his plan to make
her
more comfortable on this sort-of morning after not lost on him when it was Tesla who gave him a teasing grin and added a cocked eyebrow he himself would have been proud to achieve at this particular moment.

“I want you to know I still respect you,” she said solemnly.

Finn rolled onto his back and burst out laughing, his forearm thrown over his eyes. When he looked at her again, she was leaning on her elbow, brilliant in the sunshine, unembarrassed, perfect.

He reached around her to pull the length of her body on top of his so they were face to face, though her toes just reached his shins. He reached down as far as he could, put his hands on the backs of her upper thighs, and then ran them slowly up her body, over the perfect roundness of her ass, the sudden dip down to her waist, past her back and shoulders. His eyes were closed, as if he were memorizing her with the palms of his hands in order to sculpt her later.

Opening his eyes then, he pushed her hair behind her ear so he could see her better, and let her really see him with no façade or masking humor.

“Tesla, last night was incredible. I’ve never…what was that?”

Now she blushed, but only a little. “I know. It was…yeah. The entanglement?”

“I don’t know,” he said, still shaking his head as he touched her cheek, felt the smooth, flawless skin. “But it was more—everything, more intense, more emotional, more exciting, than anything I’ve ever…I trust you’re giving me props for my gentlemanly behavior, by the way?”

He was kidding—almost. The tension in his body, the hardness he knew she felt lying on top of him, every last bit of him wanting her more than he’d ever wanted anything—it all brought back the frustration, the grudging agreement they’d come to last night that despite the heat, and the passion, and the incredible
connection
they both felt—it was too soon. There was too much happening without adding the complication of sex.

They had agreed, but neither of them had been happy about it.

“Yes…gentlemanly,” she repeated softly. “You’re a pinnacle of virtue.”

Finn ran his thumb over her mouth before she’d stopped speaking, her lips slightly parted, and she grabbed his hand and moved it so she could put her mouth on his.

Tesla felt a molten fire run through her, leaving her breathless and shaking, and it all escalated so quickly, again, as she tried to be rational.
Is this me, or am I feeling Finn’s feelings—or both? Can he feel what I feel
? It all rushed through her so quickly; the need to bring him in closer, wrap herself completely around him in every way, nimble and liquid and filling every tiny space between them…

“Tes,” Finn murmured in her ear as he ran his hands down her back, following its curves, her skin like silk. His breath was coming shorter; he tried to speak and it was a low growl in his throat. “My God…”

“Oh my GOD!” Beckett said from the doorway.

Tesla and Finn pulled away from each other so quickly that Tesla lost her balance and fell off him and—humiliatingly—off the bed as well. She lay on the floor, her elbow bruised, and closed her eyes for a brief moment to pull herself together.

“Beckett, ever heard of knocking?” Finn demanded, clearly angry.

“Bizzy heard you, she said you were up,” Beckett replied, trying to sound dignified and disapproving. “Apparently that’s true,” she added, the innuendo apparent to everyone.

“Gross,” said Bizzy, right behind her and trying to peer around her slightly larger roommate. Her disapproval was somewhat mitigated by her giggling, however.

“Girls, seriously not a spectator sport,” Finn said, still angry, but perceptibly less so. “What do you want?”

“We heard about your dad—Keisha is downstairs, came to check on you—and we wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Looks like you are,” said Bizzy, giggling again.

Tesla decided enough was enough, and stood up, her hair wildly tangled, and Bizzy’s too-small top hugging her body and riding up—way up—over the boxers she wore that were of course twisted around sideways.

“I jumped back late last night,” Tesla explained. “And I stayed here because I don’t want my dad to know I’m back, especially since I plan to jump again.”

Joley stuck his head into the crowded doorway, over both Beckett and Bizzy, and the shock on his face when he saw Tesla was comical. “Oh! Morning, innit. What are we doing, then?”

“WE are not doing anything,” Finn said. He fished around among the rumpled covers and pulled his T-shirt over his head before trying without success to smooth his riotous curls. “Tesla and I will be downstairs in a minute. If you don’t mind.”

Beckett turned to go. “Fine. But I think my eyes are permanently damaged. I can’t unsee that.”

Bizzy trotted after her. “I could describe it to you again if you want.”

Joley, the last to leave, allowed himself one last lingering look at the scene, his dark eyes even narrower than usual as he tried, with moderate success, not to laugh. “Finnegan, best boarding school mate, I would not be so crude as to congratulate you over this. Naturally, we are both too evolved for that sort of hooliganism, plus that Women’s Studies class we took was bloody brilliant. So, of course I am in no way high-fiving you in my mind right now. Not at all.”

Tesla gave him the stink-eye, her arms crossed over her chest, and even though Finn laughed, Joley beat it. And with that, they were alone again.

By the time they were dressed—Tesla in Sam’s jeans and a much-more appropriate and somewhat baggy long-sleeved T-shirt of Finn’s—both of them were feeling a little awkward. They walked down the stairs together, Finn leading the way and Tesla wondering how she should act now—around all of them. God how embarrassing! Maybe they could just pretend last night (not to mention this morning) had never even happened? But then Finn stopped on the last stair, with her one riser above, so they were eye-to-eye. She swallowed once, wondering if he was waiting for her to speak, and Finn reached up and tucked her hair once more behind her ear. Tesla wasn’t sure when it had happened, but this gesture had somehow become theirs—private, tender, reassuring.

“Remember, we’re in this together, Danger Girl,” he said, and kissed her, quickly and oh so softly, on the lips.

When they walked into the parlor, every one of their friends turned and stared—Joley, leaning against the wall, looking somewhat smug. Becket, slouched in a chair, rolled her eyes and then inspected her perfect manicure while Bizzy sat on the edge of one of the sofas staring and grinning, and Keisha, with Malcolm in tow, hovered near the front door. They clearly hadn’t been here long.

Keisha walked immediately to Finn, her expression unusually serious. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly, her hand reaching out to tentatively touch Finn’s forearm.

“Yeah, Keish, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about,” he said, and after a moment’s pause in which she stared hard at his face, assessing what she saw there, Keisha visibly relaxed, and turned to Tesla.

“Hey, T. What are you doing—what’s going on?” she asked, her tone changing from light greeting to suspicious interrogation in a split second.

“What do you mean? Nothing!” Tesla said quickly, but she had already started to blush, and her hand moved up automatically to touch the heat in her cheeks.

Keisha’s eyes narrowed and swiftly moved to Finn, then back to Tesla.

Bizzy giggled somewhere behind her and Keisha’s face cleared, her eyes widening with sudden understanding. “You hooked up with my cousin,” she said, and it was clearly an accusation.

“I did not!” Tesla retorted, but when Beckett snorted loudly she quickly amended her denial. “Well, not exactly.”

“More importantly, though, what did you do to your hair?” Keisha demanded, hands on hips, and actually sounding angry now.

“Exactly what I’d like to know,” Beckett said from her chair. “That improbable color was your best feature.”

“I like it,” Bizzy quipped. “She looks mysterious.”

“It’s temporary,” Tesla said, happy to have the subject changed. “It’ll shampoo out.”

“Good,” Malcolm chimed in. “I don’t like it.”

“You’re just agreeing with Beckett,” Bizzy said, disgusted.

“Am not!”

Finn turned and looked at Tesla, and she shook her head. Unbelievable.

“Hello!” Finn said, trying to get their attention. All eyes turned to him.

“Can we please fill Tesla in, let her tell us what’s been going on back in the past, and figure out our next move? She doesn’t want anyone else to know she’s back just yet. Everybody got that?”

“What about Sam?” Beckett asked.

“What about him?” Finn countered.

“He texted me a while ago. He’s coming over.”

“He already knows she’s here,” Finn said, “so he’s in the loop.” Well, not entirely, he corrected himself silently, wondering if Sam, like Keisha, would have a sense that things had changed between Finn and Tesla—and if he did, how he would react.

Twenty minutes later, Sam had arrived and they had all crammed into Beckett’s room for a meeting, afraid that if they stayed downstairs Jane Doane might walk in and see Tesla. She was currently out, but she didn’t exactly keep banker’s hours, and no one ever knew when she would be home, or how long she might stay.

Beckett was not happy to have her room commandeered, but Finn had insisted, arguing that she had the biggest bedroom, with the only en-suite bath, which never had been fair, and she could damn well share it. When she tried to argue for a right to privacy, Finn merely looked at her—and not in an especially friendly way—and she acquiesced quietly, shocking Tesla by glancing apologetically at her.

Beckett’s room was big enough to hold the requisite bed, dresser, and desk, but it also had a lovely upholstered window seat with a small couch facing it, and a narrow little coffee table in between.

“Nice digs,” said Keisha, feeling generous since Beckett had agreed with her about Tesla’s ill-advised hair color situation.

“Yeah, don’t touch anything,” Beckett replied.

Beckett and Bizzy sat on the foot of the bed, while Malcolm and Keisha went immediately to the window seat, followed by Tesla who darted after them and sat in the middle. Sam and Finn took opposite ends of the sofa—sitting as far away from each other as possible—and Joley took up his usual stance, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“So,” Sam said. “What are we doing?”

“Just catching up, I believe,” said Joley. “And we’ll see from there.”

“I’ll start,” said Finn with a quick glance at Bizzy, who nodded at him. Ostensibly, he was talking to everyone, but he looked only at Tesla as he told the group what he’d found out about the night of the accident, based on the police report, coroner’s report, and published news articles on the event. He was thorough, factual—but left out, as he and Bizzy had agreed, the strange fact that the very young Tesla Abbott had been at the scene when her mother had died in a fiery automobile crash eight years ago. It was not, he and Bizzy had agreed, their job to inform others about something so personal and potentially traumatic especially since Tesla appeared not to remember the incident at all. Finn planned to tell her, privately, when and if the right time presented itself.

Now was not that time.

“I can confirm what Finn has learned; there was too much damage to the remains to determine cause of death. It was either the impact or the fire that killed Dr. Petrova,” said Sam, looking at Tesla with sympathetic eyes. “The one thing I can add is that the coroner determined that the impact occurred when she was still alive, but the question of whether the body was immolated—that is, burned—before or after death is unclear. It might have been, if there had been an autopsy, but Dr. Abbott wouldn’t allow it.”