Ten minutes and the separation of their bodies had done exactly fuck-all to settle Finn’s raging erection. He was still hard as fucking stone, his cock throbbing behind the fly of his jeans at the mere memory of what Willow’s body had felt like clenching around his fingers. His balls hadn’t ached this much since he’d last been with her as a teenager. Those months before they’d finally slept together had been filled with fumbling exploration and more blue balls than he could count.
But Christ, it’d been worth it. Every single experience they’d had together had been, if only to see that look on her face as she came from his efforts. And she’d come. Every damn time, he’d made sure of that. If he had his way, she’d come half a dozen more times before the night was through.
Just as soon as he got her fed.
She sat on his counter, hands folded in her lap and legs crossed at the ankles—so prim and proper as if he hadn’t just had his fingers inside her. As if she hadn’t ridden his hand like it was the world’s best toy. Her posture was the only thing prim about her, though. Her cheeks were flushed, their pinkness trailing down her neck to her chest. Her nipples were still hard beneath her silky top, and he wanted them in his mouth with a desperation he hadn’t felt in a long damn time. Hadn’t felt since he was last with her, actually.
After making her two sandwiches exactly how he remembered she loved, he handed her a plate. “Eat up, Willowtree. Gonna need your strength.”
“Thank you. Let’s see if your claim to remember how I like them is correct…”
“I think I already proved I remember exactly how you like it.” With a wink, he turned away from her flushed face to slap together a sandwich for himself. This combination had never been a favorite of his, but in that moment, he didn’t much care. He was going to need the fuel for what he had planned for the rest of the night. Now that he’d gotten a small taste of her, he didn’t see himself stopping before dawn. He wanted to strip her down, lay her out on his sheets, and spend hours rememorizing every square inch of her body. Wanted to make her come enough times her moans became the constant soundtrack in his mind.
Willow bit into her sandwich, letting out a little hum of contentment as her eyes fluttered closed. She’d made a similar sound on his couch right before she’d come. Which was to say, the problem in his pants wasn’t getting any relief.
“How’d I do?” he asked, his eyes locked on her lips as she slipped her tongue out to catch a bit of honey.
“Exactly how I love them.” She took another bite as she stared at him, her head cocked to the side. “How’d you remember all of it?”
“Just because I wasn’t here doesn’t mean I forgot.” He started on his sandwich, demolishing a quarter of it in one bite. “There’s not a thing between us I don’t remember.”
Too much? Probably, if the look she gave him was any indication. But, hell, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut about something like that. He wanted to tell her everything that’d happened, all the reasons he’d left and stayed away, but he couldn’t do that. Not when she and her daddy were already at odds—and they were. Like nothing he’d witnessed before.
The reason he’d stayed away sat squarely on his shoulders, and he’d have to own up to that in time. But the circumstances surrounding his forced departure lay directly at her father’s feet. Her knowing those circumstances would only serve to push her and Richard Haven further apart—possibly even cause irreparable damage. There were few things Willow loved more than her family. He wouldn’t come between that, despite the disdain he held for her daddy.
But at the same time, he couldn’t stand there and pretend she hadn’t meant—still meant—the world to him. That he hadn’t thought of her every day while he’d been gone. Hadn’t wanted to come back to her dozens of times but stopped himself simply because he’d thought it’d been for the best.
What a fucking idiot he’d been.
“Why’d you come back here, Finn?” She held up her hand to stop him before he could answer. “And don’t say because of the bar. You could’ve opened a bar anywhere in the country, and yet you chose Havenbrook. Why?”
He polished off his sandwich and loaded his plate in the dishwasher, buying himself some time. But, hell, hadn’t he just thought he wanted to tell her everything he could? If he couldn’t be transparent with her about the reason he left, the least he could do was be honest with her now.
“You’re not anywhere else in the country, now are you, Willowtree?”
She froze with her sandwich halfway to her mouth, her eyes wide as she stared at him. And while he was happy to lay his truth out on the line and reveal that part of himself, he didn’t want to answer a dozen questions about it. Not just yet.
Besides, he had much better plans for his mouth.
Finn stepped in front of her, uncrossing her ankles and slipping into the space between her legs. Gripping her hips, he slid her closer to the edge of the counter. “I think I promised you some time with my tongue.”
“But…” She swallowed, her eyes darting back and forth between his. “I haven’t finished yet.” She held up the remaining bite of her sandwich.
“And you go on and take as much time as you need finishin’ it. I’m gonna feast on somethin’ else for a while.” Sliding his hands down her thighs, he hooked his thumbs under the hem of her skirt and pulled it up, exposing more of those luscious thighs every second. “Now tell me, sweetness. You still got on your panties under this pretty skirt?”
Goose bumps covered her flesh as she gave a slow shake of her head. “They were too wet, so I took ’em off.”
Christ, she’d been sitting up there with absolutely nothing covering her pussy. Absolutely nothing separating them. No wonder she’d crossed her ankles, attempting to keep up a modicum of modesty. No need for that now.
“No panties…not very proper of you, Miss Haven.” He tsked in mock disapproval when in actuality his cock positively throbbed inside its denim prison. He slid his nose along the column of her neck, feeling her panting breaths against the side of his face. Placed a kiss against the faint birthmark shaped like Africa just behind her ear. Goddamn, he’d missed that mark. “Can’t deny it makes my job easier, though. You go on and finish your sandwich now. This won’t take but a minute.”
Without waiting for her response, Finn dropped to his knees, the counter the perfect height for him to be eye level with the heaven she held between her legs. He kissed one thigh, then the other, encouraging her to spread those legs a little with each brush of his lips against her. Hands cupping her ass, he guided her forward until she was perched at the edge of the counter, skirt bunched up around her hips, and her perfect pink pussy on display for him.
When they’d been teenagers, she’d only let him do this a couple of times, even when he’d assured her he’d loved it. At the time, she’d been too apprehensive of what she might smell like—heaven—and what she might taste like—again, heaven.
She wasn’t apprehensive now, though. Didn’t have a self-conscious bone in her pliable body. Nope, this time when he ran his tongue up her inner thigh, she didn’t clamp her legs around his head and keep him at bay. Instead, she spread those beauties wider, welcoming his mouth.
So he gave it to her.
He took a swipe through her slit, soaking in every ounce of her taste. Groaning when her arousal hit his tongue. “Even sweeter than that honey I just had, aren’t you, Willowtree? So fucking sweet.”
The plate clanged to the counter, and then her hands were in his hair, guiding him, tugging him every which way. Like she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted more or less of him.
Well, he’d settle that one for her. More. So much more.
Finn brushed his lips along her pussy, fluttering his tongue against her clit, all the while Willow chanted his name and rocked her hips up toward his seeking mouth.
He pulled back, replacing his mouth with his fingers. Tracing every inch of her before sliding them deep inside. “Gonna make you come all over my tongue right here in the kitchen. Then I’m gonna take you into my bedroom, lay you out on my sheets, and do it all over again. A dozen times if you want. A hundred. I’ll never get tired of licking your sweet pussy. Never get tired of making you come with my mouth.”
And then he did. Too worked up to draw this out any longer, he affixed his mouth to her, sucked her straight between his lips, and didn’t let up. With his fingers pumping deep inside her, he flicked his tongue against her clit in a relentless rhythm until she bowed off the counter, her fingernails digging into his scalp.
“Finn…”
He groaned against her as she did exactly what he’d promised she would. Willow rolled her hips against his mouth as he guided her through her climax. As he drew out her pleasure for as long as he possibly could. And even after, he fluttered his tongue against her, loving how she shuddered under his hands, her fingers soothing in his hair, craving those happy little sighs of contentment falling from her lips.
But Christ, he craved so much more.
With another single kiss to her pussy, he stood, then hauled her into his arms, strode straight toward his bedroom, and kicked his door shut.
“I didn’t finish my sandwich.”
“I’ll make you another one later.” He dropped her on the mattress, then reached behind him and yanked his shirt off before tossing it to the side. “You’ve got me burning up, Willowtree. Got me aching for that sweet heaven between your legs. Need to get inside you before I go mad.”
He popped the button on his jeans and slid the zipper down, sighing as his cock finally got some relief. But instead of shoving his boxer briefs down, instead of reaching inside and gripping his erection, he waited for Willow. Lord knew he had no idea why she’d agreed to this in the first place, and he wasn’t going to take for granted the fact that she could put the brakes on at any moment. Was, in fact, going to wait for her to give him the go-ahead, no matter how long it took. Even if that meant standing there with balls the color of midnight.
Willow took her sweet time staring at him, her eyes taking a slow trail down his body as they catalogued every feature. And damn if he didn’t love that she liked what she saw. That much was clear in how she bit her lip, how she ghosted her fingers across her collarbone. How her nipples were hard enough to be seen through the layers of fabric she wore.
When she finally lifted her eyes to his, hers were so full of desire, he nearly fell to his knees right there. “Well, come on, then. What’re you waitin’ for?”
WHEN WILLOW HAD WOKEN up that morning, she certainly hadn’t anticipated this was where her day would take her. She definitely hadn’t imagined she’d end it in Finn’s bed after he’d just guided her to her second orgasm of the night, the most recent time with his tongue. And Lord almighty, what a talented tongue it was.
Tension vibrated in every inch of his muscle-packed, inked body, and that only made her feel even more powerful. This man had been waiting for her go-ahead. Waiting for her approval before he did anything. The control was heady, and she couldn’t deny how much she loved it.
Now, though, she’d given him the green light, and he didn’t hesitate any longer as he shucked his pants, leaving on only his boxer briefs. Though, they did little to conceal the monster tucked beneath. While she’d anticipated his body would fill out in the time he’d been gone, grow another inch or two and develop bigger, thicker muscles, she hadn’t anticipated his cock doing the same. There was no denying it had, because Lord knew if she’d seen that beast at seventeen, she’d have run for the hills instead of letting him between her legs.
“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, Willowtree. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.” His voice pulled her from her thoughts, the look on his face nearly doing her in.
She wanted to brush his words aside, but she couldn’t. Not with the way he said them, like they were a prayer…the only truth he knew. And certainly not with how he looked at her, as if she were the only thing he ever wanted to see for the rest of his life.
It was too much and somehow not enough.
She needed to remind them both it was just about sex. She’d been down the heartache path with Finn before, and she had no plans of ever doing it again. “And yet I’m still dressed.”
His lips kicked up on the side, though he didn’t make any move to close the last step between them. “Gimme a minute, now. Been thinkin’ about this for a long time. I wanna enjoy myself.” He reached down and cupped himself through his boxers, the action shooting sparks straight to her clit. “You’ll let me have my fun, won’t you?”
He’d already given her two orgasms without even getting her naked. She’d let him have all the fun he wanted. And if he stood there and stared, that meant she got to do the same. She’d spent so much of her time since Finn had arrived in town fantasizing about what he looked like under his clothes, but those dreams had nothing on reality. His chest might as well have been carved from stone, and she wanted to run her tongue down the ridges of his abdomen. The only other place she’d seen such perfection had been when Mac texted her weekly Instagram models.
But Finn wasn’t a model. He wasn’t just a picture on her tiny phone screen. He was there in front of her in all his splendid, tattooed glory, and he was hard. For her. He’d covered his skin with several tattoos over the years—a compass low on his abdomen near his hip, part of it hidden beneath the band of his boxer briefs, a map covering from his shoulder down to his right pectoral, a series of numbers directly over his heart—and she found herself wanting to know the stories behind each of them. Wanting to know what he’d spent his time doing. A tiny ache settled in her stomach over the fact that there was a void of time where neither of them knew anything about the other.
And then there was her tree. Even though she’d spent more days than not hating his brand on her body, she couldn’t deny how much she loved seeing hers on him. Now that there was nothing blocking her view of it, now that she wasn’t incoherent like she’d been at Ty’s house, she was certain there hadn’t always been so many roots at the base of the tree. She’d drawn that willow tree for him, and she knew it like the back of her hand. He must’ve added to it in the time he’d been gone, but why?
“You’re lookin’ at me like I’m somethin’ to eat.” He pressed his knee onto the bed and crawled up her body until they were eye level.
“Sorry?”
He laughed, reaching up to brush aside a strand of hair. “I don’t think you’re sorry at all. Lord knows I’m not. You could look at me like that every day for the rest of my life, and I still wouldn’t be sick of it. Just gonna make my job a little more difficult, is all.”
“What job’s that?” she asked, though she already had a pretty good idea. What, since he’d dropped his hand to the hem of her shirt and ran his fingers along the bare skin of her abdomen. Lifting that material right along with his seeking fingers until she arched beneath him so he could pull it up and off.
“It’s a job I take very seriously, you know.” His breath puffed against the swells of her breasts before he inched down the cup of her bra with his nose. Flicked her hardened peak with his tongue. “Worship every bit of your body, making sure I don’t miss a single inch.”
She reached for the back of his head, holding him to her, sighing as he engulfed her nipple in his mouth. “That might take a while.”
He pulled back and blew against her wet skin as he lifted his eyes to hers, desire written plainly in their depths. “I’m countin’ on it.”
Taking his sweet old time, he unhooked her bra and tossed it to the side. Slid her skirt down over her hips until it joined the rest of her clothes pooled on his floor. And then she lay in front of him naked for the first time in so long. She thought she’d be self-conscious, being bare with him after so long. She wasn’t the skin and bones teenager she’d once been. But from the look on Finn’s face, he didn’t mind one bit.
He didn’t start at the bird on her hip, even though his eyes flicked there several times. Instead, he slid down the bed and lifted her foot, licking a circle around her anklebone before trailing his nose up the curve of her calf. He caressed every inch of her, like he could memorize her through touch alone. All the while, he whispered words into her skin—how beautiful she was, how much he’d missed her, how sweet she tasted. And others she couldn’t quite make out, but from the way he’d closed his eyes, his lips brushing her skin as he said them, it was maybe better she hadn’t been able to.
By the time he’d kissed every inch of her body except where her tattoo sat, she was a puddle of pure need. He ran his thumb over the mark, tracing the outline of it as he lay on his stomach between her legs.
“It probably makes me an asshole for sayin’ this, but I love that my bird’s still on you. Couldn’t bear the thought of you gettin’ rid of it. Not when I wear you on my skin too. Not when I look at it every day and see everything we had together.”
And, really, what could she say to that? Hadn’t she just thought the same exact thing about his tattoo? Before she could come up with a response, he plucked a condom from his night table and rolled it down his length as he settled between her legs.
“You don’t wanna know how much I’ve thought about this.”
Probably not. Especially when this was all starting to feel like a hell of a lot more than just sex. “Tell me.”
He glanced up at her as he gripped his cock, ran his head along her slit in a slow, torturous circuit that made her quake with need. “It won’t scare you off to know I’ve been thinkin’ of it every day I’ve been gone? Or that I think of you in the shower and my bed? Every time I gripped my cock and got myself off, it was to thoughts of you. Memories of what we did. Fantasies of what I wanted to do.”
Scare her off? Lord, no. It should have. It should’ve been a red flag that she was getting in over her head already, and they’d just gotten started. But though they’d merely begun, she was already in too deep.
“Show me.”
He covered her body with his, notching his cock into her entrance. “As many times as you’ll let me.”
And then he pushed inside, just a slow glide of his cock into her, her body stretching to accommodate his size. Their moans mingled together, the delicious fullness overwhelming her as he continued to thrust inside. Slowly, at first, until she was relaxed enough to take every bit of him. And then, once she started lifting her hips to take him farther inside, he went faster. Harder. Drove into her so deep, she swore she saw stars.
“Finn… Finn.” Willow couldn’t say anything but his name, over and over again. It was like every other word had been plucked from her head, evaporated along with every other thought except them, together.
He rested his lips against hers, his words getting lost in the breaths mingling between them. “You feel how good we fit, Willowtree? There’s nothing as perfect as this heaven, is there? Nothing.”
There wasn’t, and there was no more denying it. For years, she’d wondered if she’d built up the connection she and Finn had had. Built it up into something so overgrown and complex that it was impossible for anyone else to stack up against. The truth was, though, she hadn’t imagined a single bit of it. If anything, her memories had dulled what they felt together. It was magic, pure and simple. The kind of chemistry she saw in movies, read about in books. But it wasn’t fiction. It wasn’t just something to wish upon.
It was real, and it was them, and it was right there in front of her.
He hooked her legs higher around his hips as his thrusts sped up, his breath growing more frantic against her lips until he groaned and took her mouth in a heated kiss. Sliding his tongue against hers, he slipped a hand between them and thumbed her clit as he pounded into her hard enough to shake his bed.
“Come on, sweetness. Gimme one more. Let me feel you come around me.” He nipped at her bottom lip then licked away the sting. “Let me feel what I do to you.”
She couldn’t deny him anymore. Was damn tired of denying herself. So she gave in. Fingernails digging into his shoulders, she allowed herself to be swept away by him, allowed him to push her up and over the peak, cresting even as he pumped inside her, groaning through his own release.
Minutes or hours later, she trailed her fingers up and down the expanse of his back as he continued to press kiss after kiss along any inch of skin he could reach. It was quiet between them—too quiet almost. As if they were both lost in their own thoughts. And her thoughts? Lord, they were a jumble. But the one thought that kept coming up over and over again was, what kind of a mess have you gotten yourself into?
A fine mess, indeed.