I tear my stare away from where her head moves up and down on my lap. She’s going deeper, her hands working me as hard as those lips. I focus on the ceiling, trying to force myself to get through this. I’m a man―God damn it. I’m supposed to want and crave this shit.
The cords of my neck strain as I struggle to put my mind elsewhere. Instead I jerk again, and again. My body shudders as she releases me and scrambles to her feet. “Hey,” she says, her hands gliding across my shoulders.
It takes me a moment to meet her face, but when I do, I fucking hate what I see. All the lust I riled is gone from her features, leaving only worry, confusion, and what resembles fear. She’s at a loss. But so am I.
“Am I hurting you?” she asks.
I should say yes, to stop her questions and to keep her from doing it again. But I don’t want to put my baggage on her.
“No,” I gasp, barely able to speak.
“Then what’s wrong?” she asks, stroking the side of my face.
I angle my chin away, wondering what’s happening. It felt good, damn it. No, she felt good. “I forgot I have to get up early tomorrow,” I tell her. “I should take you home.”
Her eyes widen as her attention falls back on my lap. I can’t blame her. I’m as hard as a chimney―and I should be seeing how hot she made me. But right now, I can’t come. No matter what we do, I won’t be able to. Not with her knowing there’s something wrong with me.
“I . . . I don’t understand,” she says, pulling her hands away from me. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I bite out, unable to look her. I try to put some space between us, swearing when I lift my hips and agony rips through my groin. Son of a bitch, no way can I drive her home like this. “Take my truck.”
“What?”
The pain I’m feeling sharpens my tone. “The keys are on the kitchen counter. Take my keys, take my truck. I’ll come by for it in the morning.”
“I don’t understand,” she says again.
I don’t have to look at her to know she’s upset. I hear it in her voice. She wants and deserves an explanation. But I can’t explain what I don’t understand myself. I open my mouth to try―Christ above, I owe her that. Yet all I do is end up snapping my jaw shut.
“Finn . . . please talk to me,” she begs.
“Just go, all right?” I say, trying to keep my voice soft and doing a shitty job. “Call me when you get there so I know you’re safe.”
I expect her anger, or at the very least some serious name calling. But, this is Sol―the same woman who meets me with a wide smile and who fits too perfectly tucked against my shoulder. So instead of shouting, arguing, or demanding an explanation, things that would make me feel even shittier, she backs away in silence.
Which is way worse than anything she could have said or done.
I don’t watch her dress, don’t bother sneaking in one last look at her bare skin; don’t try to assure her that it’s me, not her. Hell, I don’t even bother to say goodbye. All I do is stare at the door long after she shuts it, knowing I’m more fucked up than I ever could have imagined.
And I’m only getting worse.
CHAPTER 14
Finn
“How was your weekend?” Mason asks, exactly the way he does every time we meet.
My counselor―the one that court appointed therapist thought would be a great fit for me―sits across from me in tweed (I shit you not) pants. He has his legs crossed as always, causing the tassels on his shiny leather shoes to dangle to the side. The last person besides Mason I saw wearing tassels was a stripper, and hers didn’t exactly dangle from her feet.
“All right,” I answer, because it’s already ten minutes into our session and I haven’t said jack.
“Just all right?” he asks.
No. It sucked balls. Sol left, and she won’t talk to me. She didn’t even text me to say she arrived home safe. Instead I received a text from Sofia saying she’d driven my truck back to her and Kill’s place. No, that didn’t raise suspicion or anything. No, that didn’t cause Kill to rip into me. Oh, wait―it did.
“What happened?” Kill yelled. Wren gave me a lift to his house, and while she guessed something was up, she didn’t expect Kill to be so pissed, just like she didn’t expect to be shoving her way between us.
Kill doesn’t lose his temper often, but when he does he really loses it. “I asked you a God damn question,” he hollered when I didn’t respond. “What happened between you and Sol?”
“None of your fucking business,” I fired back.
My comment only pissed him off further. “She’s my wife’s cousin, Finnie. Not someone you can whore around with.”