Abbie.
Abbie and Finn.
My Abbie? My Finn?
What. The. Holy. Fuck!
I reached for something, anything to grab as my legs went from under me.
Twenty-one
Finn carried me up the stairs in his arms, alone. He laid me on the bed and sat down. We looked into one another's eyes and refused to speak a word.
Not one single word.
I wanted to, but how could I? What would I say?
The last time we spoke to one another—and seeing him almost fuck my best friend—left me speechless.
A few minutes passed, and I turned my back toward him and stared out the window. No words could describe how I felt.
Betrayed?
Jealous?
I hated that I cared. I hated that I hated my best friend for wanting to be with him. There, in that room. But if I were single, and not contracted, would I have done the same?
The shadows of the trees floated past the window, nightfall was upon us, and I knew he wouldn't leave regardless if I demanded.
"Why is she here?"
"Because you almost died, Jennifer. I had to let someone know. She was on your emergency contact list."
I rolled over and peered into his eyes. "What did you just say?"
"You were drugged at the club. Almost overdosed on Rohypnol. You didn't respond well to it, and you were out for almost a week. In the hospital for a few days until you were stable and then I brought you home. I didn't know when you'd wake up. We were all worried."
The last thing I remembered was the cute guy at the bar handing me shot after shot, and I took each one like a damned idiot.
"I was worried," he added.
"Bullshit. You didn't look too worried when you were about to fuck my best friend in the basement, did you? To me, it looked like you were having a grand time. Completely carefree!"
His jaw clenched. Speaking of the fucking devil, Abbie entered the room and stood next to Finnley. Her hand met his shoulder and squeezed.
I couldn't watch it.
Watch them.
Watch her be touchy-feely with him.
I knew her. Everything about her and how she worked, and flirted, and…
"Go away," I said, pulling the blanket over my body. I wanted to sleep, although I had slept for a week.
"You're being a baby," Abbie said.
I turned my body around and looked at her. "You're being a whore. But then again, what else is new?"
"And you're being a bitch, and hypocritical," Abbie said.
"Ladies, really?"
"Get. Out!" I said. "Both of you. Now!"
"Abbie, leave," Finnley said. She refused until Finn spoke with that dominant Sir tone that said "listen to me."
She pleaded with her eyes, asking if she could stay, but with a slight shake of his head, she was gone.
"Unbelievable," I whispered. "Un-fucking-believable. How long has this been going on? Few days? The whole time I've been lost in dreamland?"
"I'm not talking about this with you. I owe you no answers."
I sat up in bed and crossed my arms.
"First you decide to fuck with my emotions? Then you allow me to get over it and then fuck with me again. After I am on my deathbed, my fucking deathbed, you decide to fuck my best fucking friend. Then you have the nerve to stand here and tell me you don't owe me any fucking answers. Finn, I wish you would just fuck straight off. You are a prick. An asshole. This biggest douchebag I have ever met, and if I ask you for a fucking answer, I expect it."
His stance loosened, and his face softened.
"I'm sorry."
"Wait. Wait a fucking second. What did you say?"
"I'm sorry. I was wrong. It was a misjudgment on my part," he said.
"I'm glad that you're man enough to apologize and admit you were wrong, but it's still un-fucking-forgiveable."
"What more can I fucking say to you, Jennifer? I can't take it back. All I can do is tell you that I'm sorry and that I was fucking wrong. Either you can accept it or not."
I didn't want to. I wanted to yell at him, tell him to get the fuck out, and stay away from me until my contract expired. But the look on his face pulled me from my rage. As much as I wanted to hate him, I couldn't. Fucking weak for him.
I sighed and swallowed. "I shouldn't have to feel like this."
Finn kicked his shoes off, crawled on the bed, and placed his hands behind his head. Then, he had the audacity to laugh. Not one of those fake ones, but a deep, hearty genuine laugh. I elbowed him in his stomach, but he didn't stop with that contagious laugh that stood out so brilliantly when we first met. The one that could make anyone join in, even the saddest person in the world.
"What's so damn funny?"
"Nothing." More laughter.
I grumbled.
He rubbed his hand across my back and placed his chin on my shoulder and we spooned.
"You can't stay mad at me forever, you know?"
"Yes, I fucking can."
He placed his arm around my stomach and held me. Minutes passed, hours even, and we stayed there, in that spot with one another. Mr. Sandman visited me, and in my dreams, I imagined Finn and me sleeping that way forever. But I wanted him to leave. I wanted him to get the fuck out.
When I woke, he lightly snored in my ear. I tore his arm from my tummy and rolled over to stare at him. Although the darkness continued to linger, strips of moonlight stretched across the floor.
Peacefulness covered his face.
No lifted eyebrow, no half-smile, just beautiful lips and strong jawline. Eyelashes that seemed to go on for days and scruffiness on the chin with messy hair made up this fallen angel of a man. No one this picturesque really existed. But he did.
I sucked in a deep breath as I memorized every inch of his face. My body ached for him and hated him all at the same time as he lay beside me in dreamland.
Who the fuck do you think you are, Finnley Felton?
His eyelashes fluttered, and shiny eyes, the color of green grass in the summer, stared into mine. He inched his body closer, removing the gap of space between our lips. Our mouths were close, and his intoxicating breath and scent encapsulated me. Just an inch and we would kiss, just one little movement, and we would be as one. But I didn't dare. I couldn't keep putting myself in the line of fire. His hand traced my jawline, and he grabbed the bottom of my chin and paused.
"Do you like what you see?" he asked, softly, gently sliding his lips on the outside of mine and then he kissed me. My mind dizzied, and I thought I might melt into his inebriating taste. At first, I didn't kiss back and then I lost myself in the sensation of his softness. The sensation of him, which I missed and craved, rolled through my body and when I opened my eyes, I thought I saw stars. Every bit of Finnley, the man that seemed too much at times and the one that I could not get enough of at others, melded with me.
He didn't continue, or try to undress me and make me his whore. Instead, he lay next to me, twirling my hair in his fingers, kissing my cheeks, rubbing his nose against mine without saying one word. Words never could replace emotions, no matter how powerful or well written. I'd once heard that words could move mountains, but so could Finn's lips.
Finnley continued to poison me with his light touch, which caused me to instinctively part my lips, tilt my head ever so slightly, and close my eyes. His lips found mine again as if they were long lost lovers, and danced. This, I thought, would be the end of me, as he nibbled on my bottom lip between smiles.
The addictive, forbidden kisses would be what destroyed me from the inside out. I snuggled into him as much as I tried not to, and we fell asleep.