Sweet Little Lies: Heartbreaker Bay Book 1 (22 page)

She stroked his hard length and her body practically vibrated for him. “I’ll work on that,” she managed as he pushed up the hem of her sundress.

Her amusement backed up in her throat.

Air brushed over her upper thighs now. Her panties were tiny, enough that when Finn reached his hands around to her ass, there was bare cheek groping.

“Mmm,”
rumbled approvingly from his throat. His fingers dug in a little, cupping, squeezing, and then slipped beneath the lace, making her quiver.

“Hold this,” he said.

She automatically took hold of her own dress at her waist. She felt hot. Achy.
Desperate
. She was already straddling him but his big hands adjusted her legs so that the two of them fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

“Yeah,” he said. “Like that.” And then he scraped aside her little scrap of panties and stilled as he got a good look at what he’d exposed.

And that’s when she remembered the Brazilian. “It’s Elle’s fault,” she blurted out.

“Oh Christ, Pru.” He stroked a reverent finger across her exposed flesh.

Her exposed,
bare
flesh. “She took me and Willa to the spa and—”

The pad of Finn’s finger came away wet and he groaned.

“—the next thing I knew . . .” she trailed off when, holding her gaze, he sucked his finger into his mouth. “So . . . you like?” she whispered.

“Love.” His hands went to her hips and he lifted her up to the table, plopping her on the wood surface. Then, calm as you please, he scooted his chair in close, draped her legs over his shoulders, lowered his head and . . .

Oh.
Oh
. Her last coherent thought was that maybe Elle had been onto something . . .

“Missed the taste of you,” Finn murmured a few minutes later, when he’d rendered her boneless. And
not very many minutes either. He shifted back, and afraid he was going away, she made a small whisper of protest and clutched at him.

Flashing her a smile, he reached behind him, pulling his wallet from his back pocket.

“It’s a little late to exchange business cards, isn’t it?” she asked, trying to make light of their compromising situation because as was already established, her mouth never knew when to stay zipped.

He pulled out a condom.

“Right,” she said. Damn, she should have thought of that. Problem was, at the moment, with her dress basically a belt around her waist, exposing all her goodies, she was incapable of thought.

“You take my breath,” he said, eyes on her as he tore the packet open with his teeth and then rolled the condom down his length.

She’d never seen anything so sexy in her entire life.

With what looked like effortless strength, he scooped her from the table and lowered her over the top of him, in total control of how fast she sank onto him—which was to say not fast at all. Seemed Finn liked the slow, drive-her-insane grind, and she let out a sound of impatience that made him flash her another smile.

“You think this is funny?” she managed.

“You panting my name, whimpering for more, and trembling for me?” He brushed his stubbled jaw very gently across her nipple and gave her an entire body shiver. “Try sexy as hell.”

She was no longer surprised to realize that she felt it. Sexy as hell. It was an utterly new experience for her and she didn’t quite know how to rein herself in. So
she didn’t even try. Instead she went after every inch of him that she could reach, following each touch of her fingers with her mouth. His shoulders, collarbone, his throat . . . God, she loved his throat. But what she loved even more? The rough, extremely erotic sounds she coaxed from him.

“Lift up,” he whispered hotly in her ear, and then rather than wait for her to comply, he guided her with his hands on her hips, showing her how to raise up on her knees until he nearly slipped out of her, and then to sink back down, once again taking him fully inside her.

They both gasped as she began to move like that, urged on by his hands, all while their mouths remained fused, kissing hot and deep. When they ran out of air, he wound his fist in her hair and forced her head back, sucking on her exposed throat, his other hand possessive on her ass.

Then that hand shifted to the groove between her hip and thigh, his fingers spread wide so that his thumb could rasp over the current center of her universe. She gripped his wrist and held his hand in place.

“You like?” he asked hotly against her ear.

“Just don’t stop.” Ever . . .

He didn’t. He swirled that roughly callused thumb in a very purposeful circle that was exactly the rhythm she needed, making her cry out his name as she came hard.

When she opened her eyes, his were hot and triumphant, and she wrapped her arms tight around his neck. “It was your turn to go first.”

“Always you first,” he said and melted her heart.

“I’m not sure that’s fair.”

He
smiled. “Hell yeah, it is. I love watching you come for me.” He nipped her chin. “You say my name all breathy and you dig your nails into me. So fucking sexy, Pru.”

With a low laugh, she buried her face in his neck.

“That shouldn’t embarrass you,” he said. “Watching you come makes my world go around.”

At the thought, her body clenched around him and he groaned.

“Your turn now,” she whispered, and did it again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Empowered, she gave him a little push until he leaned back in the chair. “You just sit there and look pretty,” she said. “Let me do the work now.”

He flashed her a sexy grin that almost made her come again before he leaned back, clearly one hundred percent good with giving her the reins and letting her have her wicked way with him.

She gave him everything she had, and in the end when he banded his arms around her, his head back, his face a mask of stark pleasure as he shuddered up into her, she felt herself go over again. With him. Into him . . .

It shocked her. A co-orgasm. An
effortless
co-orgasm. She didn’t realize it was a real thing. She’d honestly thought it was a myth, like unicorns and good credit ratings.

When she caught her breath and her world stopped spinning out of control she looked at him. Sprawled beneath her, head back, eyes closed, he had a smile on his face.

“Damn,” he said. “That just gets better and better.”

Dazed,
she stood on shaky legs and began to rearrange her dress. “This isn’t anything like what I expected.”

He gave a sexy laugh. “Liar.”

She froze and looked at him.

“Admit it,” he said. “You’ve wanted me since day one. I sure as hell have wanted you since then.”

Laughing at her expression, he pulled her back onto his lap, cuddling her, kissing the top of her head. “You think too much, Pru.”

That was definitely also true. She rested her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady.

“I’ve got something to say,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to palm and then squeeze her ass.

She wriggled a little bit, just to hear that low growl and feel his fingers tighten on her. But while his body was giving her one message, his words gave another.

“You helped Sean out and that means a lot to me,” he said.

She froze and lifted her head to look at him. “He told you? He didn’t have to do that.”

“I’m glad he did. I already knew you’re warm and sexy, funny and smart, but what you did, Pru, having his back like that—and by extension, my back as well—that told me everything I need to know about you.”

She shook her head. “Anyone would have—”

“No,” he said. “They wouldn’t. I’ve got my brother and a select core group of friends that would do anything for me, and that’s been it. But now I’ve got you too. Means a lot to me, Pru. You mean a lot to me.”

Oh
God. “I feel the same,” she whispered. “But Finn, you don’t know everything about me.”

“I know what I need to.”

If only that was true. “Finn—” But before she could finish that statement, the one where she told him the truth, the one that would surely change everything and erase their friendship and trust and . . .
everything
, someone knocked on her door.

“Ignore it,” Finn said.

“Pru,” came a deep male voice from the other side of her door.

Jake.

Oh, God.
Jake
.

This was bad. Very, very bad. If Jake found Finn here with
that
look on his face, there’d be no holding back the storm. Jake had told her to tell Finn before things went too far, and when Jake told someone to do something, they did it.

But she hadn’t.

And things had gone far with Finn. Just about as
far
as a man and a woman could get . . .

She was in trouble. Big trouble. One of the problems with having a wounded warrior as a BFF is that he saw everything as a conflict to fix. She had no doubt he’d take one glimpse at them and very possibly butt his big nosy nose in and enlighten Finn himself.

And that would be bad. Very, very bad. She jumped up and straightened her dress before whirling to Finn. He’d pulled up his jeans, but hadn’t fastened them. Nor had he put on his shirt, which meant he sat there in nothing but Levi’s, literally, his hair completely tousled
from her fingers—bad fingers!—an unmistakable just-got-laid sated expression all over his face.

Not moving.

She waved her hands at him. “What are you doing? Get dressed!”

“Working on it.” He stretched lazily, slowly, like he had all the fricking time in the fracking world.

Jake knocked again, annoyance reverberating through the wood. Jake had many good qualities but patience wasn’t one of them. “Pru, what the hell are you doing in there—and it’d better not be Finn,” he said.

She’d just sent her hands on Finn’s chest to give him a little hurry-up nudge, so she had a front-row view of his brows shooting up.

Well, crap.

Then, from outside her door, came the unmistakable sounds of keys rattling, which reminded her of the unfortunate time on moving day when she’d given Jake her damn key.
What had she been thinking?
“You’ve got to hide!” she whispered frantically to Finn.

“What the hell for?”

With a sound of exasperation she whirled around and eyeballed potential hiding places.

She had little to no furniture.

“Dammit!” Then she focused on the dumbwaiter. Perfect. “Here,” she said, opening it and then pushing him toward it. “I need you to get in here for just a minute—”

Finn, solid and steady, didn’t move when she’d pushed him. What was it with her and big, badass
alphas who only could be budged when they wanted to be budged?

He looked down into her face and seemed to take in her clear panic because he gave a slight head shake. “You’ve lost it.”

“Yes, now you fully understand! I’ve completely lost it, but to be honest, I lost it a long time ago!”

“I meant me, babe,” he said. “I’ve lost it to even be melted by those eyes of yours, enough that I’ll do just about anything for you.”

“Good,” she said quickly. “Go with that. Please, I can’t explain right now, but I need you to hide, for just a minute, I promise.”

He shook his head again, muttered some more, something that sounded like “you’re a complete dumbass, O’Riley,” but then God bless him, he folded up his rangy form in the dumbwaiter.

“Just for a minute,” she repeated and slammed the door shut on his gorgeous but annoyed face and turned back to the kitchen—where Finn’s shirt and shoes were lying scattered on the floor.
Shit!
She snagged everything up, ran back to the dumbwaiter, opened the door and shoved them at Finn and then slammed the door.

Just as Jake rolled into her kitchen.

Finn sat there in the dumbwaiter, somewhere between pissed off and bemused. And maybe a little turned on, which showed just how messed up in the head he really was.

No one handled him. Ever. And yet Pru just had, like a pro.

Which
meant he sat here squished into the dumbwaiter in only his unbuttoned jeans, his shirt in one hand, his shoes in his other, wondering—What. The. Fuck.

He tried to come up with a single reason why, if Pru and Jake were not a thing, that he had to be a dirty little secret. But he couldn’t.

And his amusement faded.

Because that’s exactly what he was at the moment. Pru’s dirty little secret, and while the thought of that might have appealed in fantasy, it absolutely did not hold up in reality.

Not even close.

Leaning in, he tried to catch whatever was going on in Pru’s kitchen.

“Why are you breathing like a lunatic?” Jake asked. “And you’re all flushed. You sick?”

Try as he might, Finn couldn’t catch Pru’s response.

But he had no problem catching Jake’s next line. “Why is there a pair of men’s socks on your floor?”

And that’s when the dumbwaiter jerked and went on the move, taking Finn southward.

“Shit!”
Finn had no choice but to hold on as the dumbwaiter began to move, taking him past the second floor, and then the first . . . all the way to the basement. It was a bad flashback to the last time this had happened.

Before he could catch his breath, the dumbwaiter door opened, and yep, he was in the basement. He had an audience too. Luis the janitor, Trudy the head of building cleaning services, Old Guy Eddie, Elle, Spence, and Spence’s two buddies Joe and Caleb all sat around a poker table smoking cigars and playing what looked like five-card stud.

They stared at Finn—still in only his jeans, still holding his shirt and shoes—with various degrees of surprise and shock.

Luis didn’t even blink, but then again the guy had lost a leg in Vietnam so not much rattled him. He just shook his head. “Some people never learn.”

Trudy
had been married to Luis—three times. They’d recently celebrated their third divorce, which meant they were already sleeping together again and probably thinking about their fourth wedding. Trudy took in Finn’s state of dress—or in this case undress—and her cigar fell out of her mouth.

“Hot damn,” she said in a been-smoking-for-three-decades voice. “I didn’t even know they made real men that look like that!”