CHAPTER ELEVEN
IF HIS GOAL was to blow up his life, Finn was doing a damn good job of it. Not that the presence of his brothers was his fault, or anything he could have prevented, but the way he’d behaved with Lane last night certainly didn’t match up with the actions of a man who was desperate for the status quo.
She was pissed.
He paused for a moment to ponder that.
He didn’t care. Yeah. He didn’t.
He maneuvered his horse down toward the fence, riding along the line, making sure everything was shored up. Mostly, it was just an excuse to get out and clear his head. To get away from Cain, Alex and Liam.
To do a little work by himself. To clear his head, even though he had a feeling a brace and bit and a strong breeze wouldn’t clear his head.
He was angry. Still. So the fact that Lane was angry too didn’t hold all that much weight. It did, in that he didn’t exactly want to blow their friendship all to hell, but it didn’t because there was no way her rage could take precedence over his.
That was the problem. The damned problem in a nutshell.
Her comfort always took precedence. And forget his.
He gritted his teeth, battling against that part of himself that was saying he was being unfair. Considering he had never, ever made a move on her until yesterday. That the righteous indignation had gone a little bit over-the-top, even if there was no one around to hear it. He wanted to cling to his righteous indignation. To his well-cultivated anger over the fact that he wanted a woman he should never have.
She had kissed him back. There was no denying that.
And in that moment, it had been about the sweetest pang of torture he’d ever experienced. Like a jagged knife cutting down under his skin, the pain so sharp and shocking it had twisted itself into something else.
There were a lot of years of need between them. At least, on his end.
When she had first come into town she’d been seventeen years old, and far too young for him to show an interest in at twenty-three. Plus, she had been Mark’s younger sister. But then he’d gotten to know her in her own right. Care about her not based on who she was related to, but who she was.
And while he had never found out exactly what had transpired between Lane and her parents, he knew that it was big. Big enough that she never spoke to them. That she never went back to visit.
Hell, since coming to Copper Ridge the most traveling she’d done was up and down the West Coast. She had never gone back east.
Though, it had never really struck him as overly strange, since he never went back to Washington, to the town he was raised in. He had left it behind when he had come to live with his grandfather, and he had left it behind thoroughly.
Still, no matter that he’d known he should be protective of her, rather than turned on by her, it had been a challenge since she was eighteen years old. Since that moment that was carved into him like a mark on a tree. Part of him now, no way to remove it. That moment when she’d looked at him laughing, her fingertips brushing his thigh...
But he’d pushed it down, even then. Because he had known she wasn’t what he needed. That he couldn’t give her what she deserved. And it had nothing to do with Mark. He was closer to Lane now than he had ever been to her brother.
But no matter that he’d decided years ago he couldn’t act on his lust, it was still there. Always beneath the surface.
It was her obliviousness to it that had finally gotten him. When he had burst into the shop and seen her standing there, completely fine, afraid of a mouse and not in any physical danger, he had wanted to shake her.
Because even though most of him had known there was probably nothing serious going wrong, part of him had gone completely cold at the what if.
He had wanted her to feel even a fraction of what he did in that moment. And it had hit him with all the force of a kick from an angry quarter horse that she simply didn’t feel a fraction of what he did when he was around her.
For him, their friendship mattered, but more than that, it was all about restraint. All about shoving down the desire that he felt for her. All about trying to control this deep, needy thing that he had never managed to master.
He had known that odds were nothing fatal was happening when she had called last night. But it was the possibility that had struck him. The possibility that something could be wrong, that she could be in serious danger. And faced with the prospect of losing Lane, his life had opened up into a yawning void. It had terrified him. And very little terrified him.
But the worst part wasn’t the terror. It was how she hadn’t understood. Not even a little. That he was shaking, that he was shaken.
He wasn’t in love with Lane. Love, to him, was something right next to torture. It was one of the biggest reasons—up to now—he’d never made a move on her.
He wanted her, but couldn’t offer much more than what they already had, coupled with a physical relationship. She was vulnerable, and he’d always known that, and he didn’t want to push her into something she wasn’t comfortable with.
She was important. And she occupied a space inside of him that lovers didn’t, that friends didn’t. That family didn’t. A spot that belonged solely to Lane. He had a feeling he did that for her too, but when he had looked at her last night, he had realized that it was something less, not something more.
Yeah, Lane Jensen was something more than a friend to him. And he was her handyman.
His phone vibrated in his pocket and he sighed, retrieving it. He frowned when he saw the name, but he was hardly going to avoid his friend’s call.
“Mark,” he said, looking out toward the mountain, bringing his horse to a stop. “What’s going on?” For one, wild second, he was afraid that Lane had called him. That she had tattled on him. Told her big brother that mean old Finn Donnelly had grabbed hold of her and kissed her against her will until she had renounced their friendship and taken up an alliance with a rodent.
“I just thought I would check in with you,” Mark said. “Your brothers are there, right?” He and Mark weren’t the type to have heart-to-heart talks, but of course he knew about Finn’s family situation.
“Yes, they are. All of them.”
“For how long?”
“Indefinitely.”
Mark swore, which was the mark of a good friend in Finn’s estimation. “That sucks.”
“No kidding,” Finn returned. “How’s everything on the fishing boat?”
“Fine. But I’m always happy to be back on dry land.” Mark hesitated. “You know I don’t like to do covert reconnaissance on Lane through you, because it’s a little bit awkward.” Tension crept up Finn’s spine, and he waited for the brick to drop. “But, does she seem okay to you?”
His mind was cast back to last night. To the feeling of her warm body beneath his hands. Her soft lips beneath his. The way she had tasted. The way—just for a moment—she had leaned into it. Into him.
It was possible Lane had told her brother, but the odds weren’t high. So Finn was going to go ahead and play dumb. Act like everything was normal. He had no reason not to. Though the fact that Mark was posing the question made Finn frown. Because if there was something going on that wasn’t related to the kiss they had shared, he wasn’t aware of it.
Considering how uncharitable his line of thinking had just been, about their friendship and his proprietary ownership on caring the most, it seemed damned unforgivable.
“I’ve had trouble getting her to return my calls. And when I get a hold of her she’s less chatty than I am. Which is weird.”
“She’s busy with work things,” he said. Which was true. And, come to think of it, she had been kind of manic about that lately. About trying to get him to move forward with all those plans she had for the dairy. Frantically trying to come up with ideas to expand the business.
“Lane is the first person to accuse me of being impossible to read,” Mark said. “She’s always going on and on about how difficult I am to talk to. But she’s worse. She just pretends to talk. She’s my sister, Finn, and I don’t know that much about her. Not really. She’s always been more comfortable with you. So, just keep an eye on her.” There was a pause. “Has she been dating anyone recently, or anything?”
“No,” Finn said. That he knew definitively. Because he always knew when Lane was dating someone. It never failed to bother him, even if he happened to be with someone himself at the time.
Whenever he and Lane dated other people it threw things into a little bit of a tailspin. Because inevitably the woman he was with hated Lane hanging around, and of course every guy who passed through Lane’s life hated the fact that Finn spent evenings at her place.
No matter what either of them said, nobody really believed they were platonic.
But, up until last night, they genuinely had been. At least, externally. His fantasies were another matter.
“I assumed maybe she had gone through a breakup or something.”
Finn shook his head, belatedly realizing his friend couldn’t see the motion. “Not that I know of. And typically, I know. The town is too small for her to hide it.” Unless she was sleeping with somebody secretly. He was thinking of dating, of course. But she might have a hookup he didn’t know about.
He didn’t like that idea at all.
He gritted his teeth, wondering now if part of her reaction to him last night had been based on the fact that she was with someone else. Or had been recently.
Now he was going over every interaction he’d had with her over the past couple of weeks, looking for signs to connect what Mark was telling him with what he had observed during time spent with her.
“To be honest with you, I’ve been up to my neck. And Lane has been bringing me food and in general making sure everything’s okay.” As soon as he said that he felt guilt, yet again, for his earlier uncharitable thoughts. “But I promise to pay closer attention.”
“Hey, your grandpa just died. I don’t really blame you.”
Yes, his grandpa had just died. And he most definitely had grief associated with that. But it wasn’t the biggest part of the turmoil in his life right now.
“Still,” Finn said, “she is your sister. And my friend.” Again, memories of last night crept up on him. Her hands on his body, pressed hard against his chest... The way she’d made him feel made a mockery of that statement. “I’ll figure out what’s up.”
The problem was it was more than likely him.
“Thanks,” Mark said. “Appreciate it.”
For some reason, Finn reflected, once they’d hung up, that phone call had gotten his head back in the right space. He was being unfair to Lane. Maybe there was something going on in her life, and he had missed it, because he had been so consumed by his own. She had a right to be mad at him about last night.
He gritted his teeth. He didn’t like admitting that, even to himself. But she had a point about their friendship. About the importance of it. For both of them. And the fact remained that the reason he had never made a move on her in the first place stood. Yes, denying the attraction between them was hard. But now probably hadn’t been the best time for him to make a move toward dealing with it. Especially not the way he had chosen to.
He wasn’t thinking clearly. And he sure as hell wasn’t feeling clearly.
So, he would go check on her tonight, as a favor to Mark. And he would do what he could to try and set things to rights between them.
He pictured her as she had been last night, enraged, her lips faintly swollen, her cheeks flooded with color. And in spite of himself, he felt his body beginning to harden. Desire rolled through him like dark clouds, signaling a thunderstorm was on its way.
He pushed it down, because he was good at that.
Yeah, he was going to confront her tonight. To deal with the aftermath of what had happened yesterday. Because whatever happened after this, Lane mattered to him. She was one of the pillars of his life here in Copper Ridge. That all-important existence he’d built for himself when he’d finally decided to cut and run from his life in Washington. From a life lived at the mercy of his parents’ whims.
One kiss wasn’t going to change that.
* * *
HE DIDN’T CALL FIRST. He didn’t want her to make an excuse not to see him. He was reasonably certain she didn’t have any plans tonight—because no matter how unobservant he might be about her mental state, he was pretty damned observant about her schedule—and he knew about what time she would get home after quitting at the store.
He was also armed with dessert. And okay, technically he was kind of regifting dessert, since Alison had sent over some pies a couple of weeks ago and he had put them in the freezer. But he knew Lane well enough to know that she wouldn’t look a gift pie in the mouth.
It wasn’t only dessert he planned to use to help soothe her anger. He had also come with a new lightbulb for her porch. He was bringing food and man services. She could hardly complain about that.
He shifted the items under his arm, then knocked.
He didn’t know what he expected. Maybe some hesitance. Maybe for her to ignore his presence altogether. Given the way she had acted last night, there really was no telling. Except he knew he had not expected her to open the door immediately, a wide grin fixed on her face.
But that was exactly what happened.
“Hi,” she said, the grin stretching impossibly wider. Any more, and it would crack her face completely. “I wasn’t expecting you. Did we have plans?”
She knew full well they did not have plans. And she was being weird.
“No,” he said, “but I brought pie. And I brought a lightbulb for your front porch. I thought I would change it for you.”
There was only a slight flicker in her dark eyes that betrayed the fact that she found this remotely strange. “That’s thoughtful of you. I really appreciate it.”
“So,” he said, frowning, “I’m going to change the lightbulb now.”
“Great! I’ll take the pie.” She was all too bright and sparkly when she grabbed the pastry box from his hand and disappeared back into the house.
He turned to see to the task at hand, clearing the cobwebs away from the porch light before taking out the old lightbulb and putting the new one in. He felt like there was a rock in his chest. And then he felt like maybe there was a rock in his head.
She was going to pretend that nothing had happened. She wasn’t just mad, she was furious, but she was going to keep on smiling at him, keep on pretending that everything was fine so that they didn’t have to talk about this.
Rage trickled through him like wildfire. Burning everywhere it touched. He threw his tools down onto the porch and walked inside, not bothering to keep his footsteps light.
“That was fast,” she said, that same near-manic smile fixed on her face.
He crossed his arms over his chest, rocking back on his heels. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” she said, waving a hand. “Just fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Oh, that did it. He was a strong man. Growing up like he had, that had been a necessity. When his father had left his mother, it had been up to Finn to take care of her. To assume the responsibilities of the household, even though he’d been a boy. And then, when his mother had left... He’d been on his own.
There had been no space for him in his father’s life, with his new wife and his sons. He could bear a lot of things. Had done so. Would continue to do so, if his brothers’ presence at his ranch was any indicator. But he would be damned if he would bear this. She could be angry about his kiss, but he would not let her ignore it.
It had changed things. Rearranged something in him. Ripped away the excuses he’d been making for years about not touching her. Because she wanted him too, and now he knew it.
And he couldn’t unknow it.
“No reason,” he said, his anger a dark, flickering thing inside of him, making him reckless. Making him mean. “Mark called.”
“Cool. Did you guys talk about girls?”
“We talked about you,” he said, appraising her openly, not bothering to hide it. She looked wary, and he didn’t love that. But he did love the ski-slope curve of her nose, and the way the corners of her lips twitched when she was trying to hold back a smile.
He felt gratified when he saw color mount in her cheeks. “He wanted to know what was up with you.”
“Did you tell him nothing? Because there’s nothing up with me.”
“Really. Did you talk to him last night sometime by any chance?”
Her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut again. “I did not,” she said, her tone flat.
“Okay, because I feel like if you had, that might’ve been significant.”
“Why would it have been significant?” The question sounded as though it had been dipped in sugar.
“No reason,” he said, taking a step closer to her. She took a step back. Then, she edged around to the other side of the counter, putting it between them.
He was supposed to be here to make things right. But it didn’t seem fair. That making it right meant letting her pretend nothing happened. That making it right meant letting her live in a fiction where he didn’t ache to have her with every breath.
If she would just acknowledge the kiss. Maybe that would be enough.
Maybe.
For a moment, just a moment, the voice of sanity screamed inside of him that it was ridiculous to be acting like this with the woman he considered to be his best friend in the entire world. But that voice was drowned out by the roar of testosterone. And so he continued on as he had started.
“So, then what is going on?” he asked, placing his fingertips lightly on the countertop and dragging them over the smooth surface as he moved toward her. “Some guy break your heart?”
“My heart is cast in iron,” she said, trying to keep her tone flippant. But he could see that she was on edge. Good. He wanted her over the edge. He was going to keep pushing until she had to admit that there was something going on. Something happening between them. Until she stopped resolutely living in Laneland where everything was rainbows and he was sexless, while he lived in the real world dealing with the aftermath of this explosion between them.
He had been prepared to walk in and have her scream at him, but he could not allow her to ignore him.
“Good to know. Are your panties also made of iron? Or are you sleeping with some guy and it’s gone haywire and that’s why you’re in a mood?”
She scowled, her brows locking together. “You jackass. That’s none of your business.”
“Sure it is, Lane. We’re friends. Don’t friends talk about things like that? If some guy is messing you up, don’t I have a right to know?”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I? Because you’re acting strange. And Mark thinks so too. He wanted to know what was up, and so do I.”
She snorted. “News flash, Finn, Mark can ask me what he wants, but you’re not my brother.”
She tried to brush past him, and he reached out, grabbing hold of her arm and stopping her. He lifted it, drawing her toward him. There was something rushing through him that transcended anger. Something reckless and hot, something that had done away with his self-control completely.
He knew exactly what it was. But he didn’t want to put a name to it. Not now. Not when there was no point at all in assigning an identity to this roaring need inside of him that would never be satisfied. Not until she was naked. Not until he was buried inside of her and she was crying out his name.
He didn’t want that. Even as he needed it with a ferocity that made his whole being ache, he didn’t want it. Because it would change everything they were. But at the same time he didn’t know if he had the strength to go back to acting like everything was the same. Like being near her when he wanted to reach out and touch her was easy. Like the pull between them was nothing.
His life was slowly being wrenched from his control. Like the fist he’d closed around it years ago was being pried open and he was losing his hold bit by bit.
This was part of it. She was part of it.
“I know perfectly well that I’m not your brother,” he said. He could feel her pulse racing in the underside of her wrist, could feel the way he affected her. Maybe it was their closeness, maybe it was the shared memory of the kiss. Maybe he had succeeded in making his best friend fear him.
He had never felt lower than he did at that moment. But he still couldn’t bring himself to release his hold on her.
“Then stop meddling,” she said, the words sounding like they had come at great cost, each syllable bitten out with purpose.
“Now you’re going to pretend that I’m acting brotherly? Come on, Lane. I’ve seen people pretty committed to their fictions, but you win right now. We both know I’m not your brother. We both know you feel a lot different about me than you do about him.”
She shook her head, her eyes wide. “I don’t,” she said, “so whatever you have in your head, whatever crazy thing possessed you to do what you did last night...”
He released his hold on her and took a step back. “Are you ready to talk about that now?” he asked, knowing he sounded pissed. Not really caring.
Her cheeks were flushed dark red, anger shimmering around her in a wave. “We have to,” she bit out, “don’t we? You wouldn’t let me put our friendship back the way it should be. Why wouldn’t you let me fix it? You know that I hate this. You know that I don’t want it. I don’t want this between us. I need you, Finn. I need you right now, maybe more than I ever have, and you’re ruining it.”
“You were going to pretend that it didn’t happen.”
“You know why.” she hissed. “I need a friend. I don’t need another guy I could date. Those guys are a dime a dozen here. But you’re the only Finn I have.”
“Yeah,” he said, “I know. It’s what I told myself about you all this time. Even as I was on my way to your house tonight. What I told myself every time I thought about kissing you, in fact. But I need you. Did you ever think of that? You keep talking about going through a hard time, but I haven’t seen any evidence of that. I’m not doubting you, not necessarily, but you know what I’m going through. You can see it. I can’t... I can’t keep being pulled every which way. I can’t be there for you all the time while I push aside what I want.”
Her throat worked, angry tears glittering in her eyes. “So you want to throw away what we have because you want sex?”
The words hit hard and twisted inside of him, made him feel guilty when nothing else so far had. “That’s not it.” It wasn’t, but he couldn’t figure out quite how to articulate it. “I just can’t hold it all anymore,” he said simply, finally.
“And our friendship is such a burden?”
“No. Our friendship is one of the best things in my life. You have been one of the best things in my life for more than ten years now, Lane Jensen. But pretending I don’t want you? When I fulfill what you want me to... I can’t hold on to that while I try and balance all of this other stuff.”
She shook her head. “I don’t... What does that even mean? I can’t even deal with the answer. Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“I’ll tell you what it means. Right now? If you really want to take care of me I need more than casserole.”
He felt like a dick. There were no two ways about it. He was a dick. But he wasn’t sure if there was anything he could do to stop himself. To stop this. It was ten years in the making.
Hell, at this point he didn’t know whose side he was on. Whether or not he wanted her to win, with her logic, her desperate need to protect the friendship at all costs. Or whether he wanted his body to win.
Mostly because he had no idea what he was doing. He had rationalized his way out of taking this step a thousand times before. And the reasons still stood. It was his resolve that had crumbled.
Looking at her hurt. All the way down deep. The desire that he felt for her was a yawning, aching void that he knew couldn’t be filled by anyone or anything else, because God knew he had tried.
He had slept with any number of other women since he had met Lane. None of them had taken the edge off. Sure, sometimes it was enough to allow him to ignore his desire for her for a while. But it always came back. And the moment he found himself checking out Lane instead of the woman he was supposed to be sleeping with, he broke things off.
And even if he was in another relationship, he hated every man that passed through Lane’s life. Every man she took to her bed. Thinking about it made him rage. Gave everything he did an edge of violence that he had never wanted to explain or deal with.
It didn’t make sense. And it wasn’t fair. To want his friend physically the way that he did, while knowing it could never be romantic.
While knowing it would never be permanent.
He had always known that Lane needed more than that. More than sex with friendship on the side. And he had always valued her too much to ask for that. But he had reached the end of it. The end of himself.
And if he blew their friendship all to hell, then maybe it was best to deal with it now. While the rest of his life was similarly destroyed. While everything else was basically the worst it had ever been outside of his shitty childhood.
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” she said. “Because you’re sad that your grandpa died? What do you think Callum would say if he knew that you were propositioning me? He would slap you upside your head. He would tell you that’s no way to talk to a lady.”
“Yes,” Finn said. “You’re right. But he’s not here. The bastard died. And as his last act, he decided to take everything I worked for and I can’t even yell at him about it. He’s gone, like everyone else in my life.”
“Except for your brothers. And, if you don’t push me away, I’m here too. But is that what you’re doing? You just want everyone to go away and leave you alone in your misery? And you knew the best way to do that with me would be to kiss me?”
“No, that’s not it at all. It might be a good theory, but only if you didn’t want me to.”
Lane drew back as though she had been slapped. “I don’t.”
“That’s why you were looking at me like you did down by the lake last week?”
Her eyes were shimmering now, anger visible across her cheeks in slashes of red. “I ignore those moments,” she said, her voice trembling. “And I was willing to ignore the kiss too. Dammit, Finn.”
“If you want it, why is it a bad thing?”
“I want a lot of bad things. And I’ve had a lot of bad things. For example, I had French fries for lunch. That was a bad thing. It’s not good for you. You shouldn’t eat them. They’re too starchy, and there’s too much oil. I’m not getting any younger. I’m close to thirty. I need to order side salads. And I need to say no to this too.”
“Are you comparing me to junk food, Lane?”
“I’m comparing you to any bad decision I can make on a given day. That’s what separates us from the animals. Sometimes we don’t make them. I have to not make this mistake.”
“Why is it a mistake?”
She laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. She crossed her arms, shaking her head. “Are you proposing? And if you are, do you think I’m going to say yes?”
“Hell, no.”
“Then how could it be a good idea? Unless it’s going to end somewhere permanent it’s just going to end. And then where does that leave our friendship?”
He was out of words then. He was out of restraint. He was out of everything. Everything but the need that had eaten at him for so long he didn’t know who he was without it. Didn’t know what it was like to take a breath without wanting Lane Jensen. It had become part of him, and he was so damn tired of it he couldn’t take it for one more second.
So he wrapped his arms around her, just like he had done yesterday. His hands were pressed into her back, fingers tangling in her hair. It was like silk, she was like silk. He expected her to push away from him, expected her to fight, after all that verbal sparring she had done.
But she didn’t. Instead she went still, frozen. Like prey that had spotted a predator. Or maybe she was just leaving it up to him. Her breathing was shallow, and slowly, very slowly, he felt her soften beneath his touch.
Gradually, her breasts met his chest as she leaned against him. But she didn’t move to close the distance between their mouths. He dragged his palm up the line of her back, letting his fingertips drift along her neck. She shivered beneath his touch.
Lane shivered beneath his touch.
Other women had done that, he was sure. When it came to his sexual prowess, he had never had a complaint. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what other women had done, what other women had felt. What mattered was that Lane felt this now. For him.
But he wasn’t going to be the one to close the distance between them. She had to make the move. It had to be her. So that tomorrow she wouldn’t be able to pretend it didn’t happen. So that she wouldn’t be able to get angry at him. So that she wouldn’t be able to pin it all on him. And maybe she would turn away. Maybe she would keep denying all of the electricity that arced between them.
But he didn’t think she would.
He wove his fingers more deeply into her hair, tightening his hold on her head, and at the same time he moved the hand on her back down lower, then to the side, grabbing hold of her hip. She gasped, that small reaction worth more to him than he could possibly quantify.
“Tell me you don’t want me, Lane,” he said, moving just a little bit closer. “You’re going to have to tell me.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want you,” she said, but she came nearer when she said it.
“Come on,” he returned, “you’re going to have to do better than that.”
“I don’t—” she inched closer still “—want you.”
“Yes,” he affirmed, “I can feel just how bad you don’t want me. The way you’re all pressed up against me proves that.”
“You’re holding on to me,” she said.
He released his hold on her, dropping his hands back down to his sides. “Then run away.”
She swayed slightly, but she didn’t move. Her eyes widened, and for the first time she looked downright terrified. Mostly, he imagined, because she didn’t move back. Because she didn’t run. Because, for whatever reason, she was still standing right there, her breasts pressed tightly against his chest, her mouth only a whisper from his.
“You’re my friend,” she mumbled. “Running away from you would be almost as stupid as...”
“Kissing me?”
“Nothing would be stupider than that,” she said, the words a rushed whisper.
Then her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned forward, the movement so slow, so slight, if he hadn’t been tuned into every single thing about her, he might have missed it until her lips pressed up against his.
The sound she made was somewhere between surrender and a wounded animal. Distress and satisfaction reverberating between them as she gave in to the attraction that he had never even bothered to deny. At least to himself.
He wrapped his arms back around her, forking his fingers into her hair and wasting no time taking the kiss deeper. He wanted this. He wanted her. And he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. Not while he had her like this. Not while he was finally holding Lane Jensen the way he had always fantasized about doing.
He knew plenty of guys who would say it was a weakness to want a woman and not claim her. Finn had always seen it as a feat of strength. Which was why this surrender to temptation shamed him in some ways. Why it felt like giving up.
But it also felt like summer rain falling on his face for the first time after a long cold winter. It felt like that very first flower persevering through the frost. Like life after so much nothing.
And that won out over anything else.
He tightened his hold on her, moving back, pressing her up against the edge of the counter as he let her feel the evidence of his desire for her. Let her feel just how hard she made him. Just how much he wanted her.
She was clinging to him, just as she had done last night, her fingers curled around his shirt as she kissed him back. And when he felt her begin to pull away, he stopped her, sliding his tongue across the seam of her lips, growling as her flavor flooded his mouth.
She whimpered, an answering sound, an answering surrender. And then the tip of her tongue touched his, that little returned exploration like a lightning bolt that went straight down to his cock.
He slid his hands down her body, down those curves he had spent so many years pretending not to want, and he moved his hands down to that ass he’d worked for so long not to stare at. And now he was holding it in his palms.
Just the thought made his knees about buckle.
He tightened his hold, drawing her forward, and she rolled her hips, a needy sound rising in her throat. She was trying to satisfy herself, trying to get some relief from this heat that was burning between them.
And then it was Lane who let her fingertips drift down his chest, Lane who rested her hands on his belt buckle for a moment, then pushed her hands up underneath his shirt.