Let Me: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family Book 2) (16 page)

Then something changed.

She asked me to kiss her, not because she pitied me. No way. Not the way she kissed me back. She was proving she still wanted me, like nothing had changed . . . even though everything had.

So instead of feeling everything I thought I should have felt: humiliation, fury, and even fear, I drove home like this weight I’ve been carrying for forever had been lifted, and the chains binding me had loosened. Am I still damaged by what happened? Yeah. That shit doesn’t just go away with one kiss. But I can’t deny that all too real calm that followed.

Since I started liking girls, and they started liking me back, what happened to me always found a way to ruin even the good moments―as if at any given second they would learn what I’ve always fought to hide.

The good moments with Sol have been just that,
good
. Yet with her, it’s like I’ve had to hold onto my secret even tighter―pretending to be that someone else―the kind of man women think they like or want to be with. That changed with Sol. She knew. She
knew
. There was no denying it―not by the way she seemed to shove the persona I’ve held up like a shield aside and see down to that wound that’s never quite healed, tearing it open and making it bleed.

It should have freaked me out, and maybe pissed me off that she guessed―and in a way it did, given the raw pain that scorched me like fucking fire. But even though my strength and power had been stripped away, she gave it right back to me when she begged me to kiss her.

So is it easy to be with her now, to pass my hand along her thigh like I am? Yeah. It is.

“I’m sorry about how I made you feel the other night,” I tell her. For all that I think things are cool between us, this apology is something I still owe her.

She reaches for my hand, covering it with her own. “Don’t be. I don’t ever want you to regret what happens when we’re in bed.”

“In bed?” I ask, lifting her hand and kissing it. “As in not sleeping?”

“Definitely not sleeping,” she says, her voice gathering a roughness that turns me on. “But definitely touching.”

“Touching me where?” I murmur against her knuckles, my stare welding onto hers.

She tilts her head back, laughing and exposing the swells of her breasts. Jesus, she’s beautiful. It takes all the restrain I have not to pull her onto my lap and into a straddle. “Finn, you know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing you say it.”

Her breath catches when I hook my arm around her shoulders and pull her to me for one damn fine kiss.

“Enjoy your dinner,” I tell her, pegging her with a look that widens her large eyes. “Have your wine, and I’ll show you exactly where to touch me. . . .”

We’re all over each other the minute I slam my bedroom door shut behind us, peeling off our clothes and letting them land in messy piles on the floor. But the moment I’m down to my boxer briefs and she’s only in a tiny pair of panties and her bra, we stop.

I’m already hard, and breathing as fast as she is. We’re holding hands, but not much else. But the way her large brown nipples poke against the lace of her teal bra, I know she’s ready for more.

I lead her back to my bed and sit on the edge, positioning her to stand between my legs. My hands release her, skimming her nipples with my knuckles so the hard tips brush over my skin. “My blood tests came back today,” I tell her. “It’s a procedure thing I have to do before each fight. Just so you know, I’m completely clean.”

She shudders, watching me play. “I am, too. I’ve never had . . .” She groans when I pinch through the lace. “I’ve never had anything,” she bites out.

I curl my arm around her waist, pulling her close and yanking down the cups of her bra so I can circle the points with my tongue. “You on the pill?” I ask between flicks.

She clutches my head, speaking like it’s taking everything she has to stay calm. “Yes. I don’t want . . .”

Another groan, followed by a whimper when my teeth clamp down. Damn, I want her.

“Let’s not use anything, okay?” she begs, her voice trembling.

It’s what I want too, which is why I’m asking. I’ve always used a condom when I’ve fucked. With Sol it’s the last thing I need. I don’t want anything coming between us and our bare flesh.

Sol is worked up from me teasing her breasts, breathing like she’s in agony. But I know that’s not pain she feels. Her thighs bat against my legs as I continue to suck. Yet by now I’m tired of this bra, her panties, everything keeping her naked from me. Maybe she is, too.

She flings off her bra the moment I unhook it, and steps out of her panties and kicks them away when I yank them down. But she’s not touching me, she doesn’t know what to do. So I lead her down to her knees and tell her.

“Will you go down on me?” I ask. And just like that, I’m that much harder.

Her eyes shimmer in a way that tells me she can’t wait to start. And for once, I’m all but begging for it. She edges closer, but it’s not until I pull out my stiff length and place it into her wide open mouth that she starts.

My head cranes back and my eyes squeeze shut as the heat from her throat envelops me. At first I tense at the invasion, but then it’s like everything changes. I groan when my tip slides deeper. Damn, it feels good, that misplaced shame completely gone. My scars―all that pain―it doesn’t matter. With her, and the way she takes me, it’s like I’m fucking perfect.

I thread my fingers through her hair, encouraging her to go faster. But as she fastens her lips tighter, my breath releases in a growl and my hands fall away.

She moans against me as she continues to work me, the vibration in her throat tempting my release. I open my eyes and glance down, grinding my jaw hard enough to snap when I lift her hair from her face and her eyes meet mine. My chest rises and falls with each quick breath, I’m ready to finish―so close I’m not sure I can speak. But when I do, I mean what I say, “God damn, you’re beautiful.”

I scrunch my eyes closed when her head dips further down. I can’t hold out much longer, my body ready to give into that release. “Sol . . .” I rasp, forcing my heavy lids open. She lifts her gaze, meeting mine. “My turn.”

Before she can ask, I have her in the air. In one smooth move she’s on her back, her legs spread, and my face is buried against her. She screams, her body bouncing off the mattress and her fingernails clawing my sheets.

Her legs kick out on either side of me, flailing as she starts to scoot back. “Oh,
God
,” she grunts when I suck harder.

I haul her back, flinging one of her legs over my shoulder. I devour her soft flesh, returning every bit of pleasure she gave me, and maybe more. She squirms, unable to keep still, moaning so loudly I know that she’s close. I increase my efforts, adding a little more suction before sliding my fingers inside her.

My tongue eagerly circles and my fingers move fast. She starts swearing, her hips rocking against my hand. I’m making her hot, but as I increase my speed she loses control, calling my name, pleading for me not to stop. When she comes, it’s wild, strands of her hair smacking her in the face as she whips her head back and forth.

I lift my chin, easing her down from the rush and lowering her body to the bed. Her eyes fix on mine. “I want you so much,” she stammers, barely managing the words.

I crawl up her body my hand smoothing away her hair. “You sure?” I ask, hoping the hell and back she means what she says.

At her nod, I place my thick head between her legs, slicking it against her folds. “Good,” I tell her, my eyes closing briefly from the heat and feel of her body. “So fucking good.”

I don’t slide in as easily as I think I will, her center taught and narrow. But the pressure only makes me want her more. “Damn, you’re tight,” I whisper against her mouth.

She shifts beneath me, allowing her knees to fall all the way open. “Sorry,” she says, like it’s a bad thing.

“Don’t be,” I tell her. “Just tell me if it hurts.”

She’s not a virgin. I’m pretty sure she’s not. But that doesn’t mean I can’t hurt her, especially since it’s obvious I’m a lot bigger than she’s used to.

I curl around her, kissing her as I try to make my way in. She moans, deepening our kiss, trying to taste every bit of me. I smile with total sin as I realize what she’s doing. “You like how you taste on my lips?” I ask. She answers with a whimper, her stare growing heady. “Then you’re really going to like the way I fuck you,” I promise.

Her spine bows as I slide the rest of the way, filling her. I take it slow at first, making sure she’s not in pain, but once her hips rock beneath mine, there’s nothing slow about what I do.

My rhythm is fast, hard, moving her further up the bed as our bodies collide and create the perfect beat. She fastens her ankles around me, encouraging and forcing each thrust. My head lowers to kiss her ear, causing her body to grip mine and clench me further.

The heat between us builds. She’s swearing, and hell, so am I, both of us loud as those familiar jolts of electricity shoot across every nerve cell in my body. But it’s like I can’t stop talking dirty, can’t stop telling her how hot she’s making me.

She peaks, her body shuddering as I finally release. Son of a bitch. Normally, I last longer. In my condition, and in my youth, I always keep going. But after what she did to me, and how I went down on her, I don’t think either of us stood a chance.

I slow my movements, kissing her as I take my time finishing. When I finally stop and pull out, I realize she’s trembling like she’s scared, and Jesus Christ, doesn’t it just tear me in half. “What’s wrong?” I ask, reaching to cup her face.

She turns her head in the direction of the wall. “Nothing. It’s okay,” she says.

I lower my hands from her face, realizing I’m making her uncomfortable by staring at her. If anything that makes me feel more like shit.

“Did I hurt you?” I ask. We went at it pretty hard, but I thought she liked it. Now, I’m not so sure. “Sol, if I hurt you, you need to tell me.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” she says.

It’s what she claims, but she won’t look at me then. “Baby, tell me what I did wrong.”

She returns her focus on me, smiling softly despite that she seems upset. “You didn’t hurt me,” she says again. “I’m just in a lot of trouble.”

My stomach bottoms out. “Did you forget to take your pill?”

She surprises me by laughing. “No, it’s not that,” she says. She slides her hands along the tats on my arms, smoothing her palms across my shoulders until her hands link around my neck.

I adjust my weight above her, worried that I’m crushing her. “Then what is it, beautiful?” I ask.

I think it’s my “beautiful” comment that softens her eyes further. “I’m in love with you, Finn,” she tells me, her voice splintering. “I know that’s probably not what you want to hear, but I love you . . .”

CHAPTER 17

Sol

“Cool.” That’s what Finn said when I told him I loved him. He grinned and said, “
Cool
.”

I think it would have bothered another woman, and maybe even pissed her off. But it was such a “Finn” thing to say and do. I’m not sure if he’s heard it before, but I didn’t ask. If I’m being honest, I was more worried he’d said it to someone else.

Do I wish he felt the same? Of course I do. But when I think back to everything my mom is dealing with, in a way I’m glad he doesn’t.

Maybe I’m too screwed up to love.

“How’s Mami?” I ask my dad, plugging my other ear to drown out all the noise from the arena. Finn may not love me, but that doesn’t stop him from showering me with affection and wanting me with him. So here I am in Atlantic City, at the fight that can move him from his current rank at number seven to the next in line for the belt.

I crank the volume when I can’t make out what my father said. “Sorry, Papi. Can you say that again?”

“I said I think the new dosage is starting to work,” he repeats. “She was more alert today.”

“She was?” My attention veers in the direction of the welterweight and his camp as they pass me. He’s gushing blood from a deep cut on his forehead, his nose is visiting his right cheekbone, and there’s so much swelling in his face, his eyes are nothing more than slits.

And this poor bastard won!

I force a smile when he waves my way. He’s friendly with Finn and we had dinner with him and his girlfriend the other night. I’m not surprised he remembers me, we had a nice time together. I’m just shocked he can
see
me.  

“Is she able to hold a conversation with you?” I ask my father. As I wait for his answer, I take a moment to pray up and down that Finn doesn’t end up the same way. Jesus, the guy is one giant bruise.

Yet as much as I’m scared for Finn, the fact that my father doesn’t respond right away causes that awful sense of dread to dig its way into my stomach and find its way into my voice. “Papi . . . what is it?” I ask.

“It’s probably nothing.”

I close my eyes, willing myself to stay calm. “If something’s wrong with Mami, you need to tell me.” As much as I wish I could be spared from what’s happening, it’s not a luxury my mother can afford.

He waits, as if debating what to tell me, adding to my mounting nervousness. “She talked to me about remodeling the kitchen,” he says.

It wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. Not so soon after her meds were adjusted. And while to anyone else it might not sound like a big deal, the news is actually
huge
. Fixing the kitchen is one of those things my parents used to discuss before my mother became really sick. It’s needed a major remodel for years. But lately my mother hasn’t noticed. She hasn’t noticed anything―unable to see things that are right in front of her―unable to live in the present or our reality. The fact that she’s starting to notice . . . that’s a good thing.

“Really?” I ask.

I can hear the hope in my father’s tone. “She was talking about new cabinets, and possibly replacing the counter with granite. I’m not sure if it’s something we can afford, but if it will help her―if it’s something she wants, I’ll try to do it for her.”