Page 8

Chapter eight

Foxx

The whiskey in front of me is untouched.

I don’t know why I picked whiskey. I don’t usually drink much at all; plus, I’m driving tonight, so I know this is going to be my only drink.

I ordered it to have something to do with my hands, but I’ve barely even glanced at it, only rolled the ridged edges of the glass between my fingertips for a distraction.

The bar is dimly lit, the kind of place where people press in close, voices murmuring distantly over the faint background music. It’s not somewhere I’d normally choose, but it’s far enough away from campus and it’s got a quieter vibe.

Still, I’m restless. Not in an obvious way, but in the low energy beneath my skin, the warmth in my palms. There’s tension in my shoulders, a constant awareness of the door I can’t stop glancing at.

Every time it opens, the hair on the back of my neck rises.

What if it goes like the last time? What if he sees me and bolts?

What if he doesn’t come at all? It’s been a long time since I’ve let myself want something like this, and it shows.

Vulnerability presses against the edges of my senses, and I’d forgotten how exposed this feels.

How hard it is to put yourself out there.

I’m not saying I don’t want it, but I’m also making sure I check in with myself here.

Then someone catches my eye, and even before I really see, I know it’s him. He stands out immediately, all tousled blond hair that’s somehow both dark and light and annoyingly sexy. He scans the room, relaxed, at ease, like none of this fazes him. Effortlessly magnetic.

And fuck, he looks good. Better than his pictures. The kind of attractive that makes me question how I ever thought I’d be unaffected.

Then his eyes find mine.

Something reckless sparks to life in my chest. It’s been years since I’ve felt that pull, that familiar heat curling through me like a warning I already know I won’t listen to.

A flicker of something passes over his face…

Recognition, sure, but also something else.

Something slower, heavier, like maybe this is hitting him just as hard as it’s hitting me.

I don’t move toward him and neither does he.

We just stare at each other, and the air between us pulls tight, like a band that could snap at any moment. Something that’s delicious and heady.

Finn’s mouth curves just slightly. Just enough to say, there you are. The smirk isn’t just something I see; I feel it, a deep awareness low in my body as my pulse hammers in my throat, that dangerous awakening in my chest. The one I’ve ignored for years.

When he begins weaving through the room, I notice there’s something about the way he walks, a confidence that isn’t cocky but settled. His dark shirt tugs across his shoulders that aren’t as broad as mine, but I can tell he spends time on himself.

I pick up my drink, finally taking a slow sip, letting the amber liquid burn and sting my throat just as he reaches the bar.

Finn stops in front of me, eyes dragging over me, trailing hot embers in his wake, unashamedly taking in every detail up close.

And I’m not going to pretend I hadn’t been doing the same.

But it’s his eyes that catch me off guard.

Pale blue, framed by blond lashes, making them lighter, more enchanting, and coupled with sun-kissed skin, they’re impossible to look away from.

His chest rises with a slow breath, then… “Fuck,” he mutters, voice low and rough around the edges. Raspy and sexy.

I arch an eyebrow, willing my pulse to stay steady. “I don’t even get a ‘Hi’?”

His smirk sharpens, lazily, but full of intention as he leans on the bar, closing the space between us. His gaze flickers to my mouth, then back to my eyes, my skin tingling from his attention. “Sorry, you’re so fucking hot. It was the only word I could get out.”

My stomach tightens. I let out a short, breathy laugh, my fingers curling around my glass at his honest remark. “Glad I could live up to expectations.”

Finn pulls out the stool next to mine and sits down, and I’m immediately assaulted by his scent. Clean, fresh, like soap and something faintly fresh and salty. I wouldn’t be surprised if he said he just came from the beach.

“You waiting long?” he asks, tipping his head toward my drink.

“No,” I say as nerves skitter down my back.

His mouth curves slightly. He sees right through me. I might’ve been sitting here for a while, just in case he showed up early, but instead, he’s right on time.

“What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey. Neat.”

Finn tilts his head, looking amused. “Of course you are.”

I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean?”

“You just seem like the type,” he says, one eyebrow lifting. “All serious and broody.”

I shift, turning toward him a little more, the corner of my mouth twitching. “That your way of calling me boring?”

He mirrors my action and turns to me, propping his chin into his palm.

“I don’t know. Are you boring, Foxx?” Those lashes bat my way, playfulness evident in his eyes.

So I let go a little, and my gaze drifts all over his face.

He’s fucking pretty as well as a little rough around the edges.

He reminds me of standing at the edge of the ocean just before a storm.

That moment when everything is charged, wild, and you know you’re about to get pulled under, but you step forward anyway.

When I settle on those blue eyes again, burning like flames behind a cage, I consider telling him just how not-boring my thoughts are about him and what I’d do to him, what I want him to do to me.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” I shrug instead, bringing the drink to my lips once more, watching him track every move I make.

“So…” he says, fingers trailing idly along the edge of a coaster, “is this your usual Friday night?”

I glance at him. “Define usual.”

“Meeting guys from dating apps.”

I set my drink down. “Why? You looking for a Yelp review?”

Finn laughs, tipping his head back slightly. He has a good laugh—full, genuine. I like it. And I like that I coaxed it out of him so easily.

I let my gaze linger on his lips for a little too long, enough to make his tongue peek out to wet them, and I swallow roughly at the sight. Having him here in the flesh just makes me want him more.

“Not often,” I admit. “And you?”

Finn hums, considering. “Define often.” He repeats my words.

I quirk an eyebrow, under no illusions that this gorgeous young guy isn’t going on multiple dates with lots of people per week. “You tell me.”

“I mean, I don’t have a loyalty card, if that’s what you’re asking.

” He grins, then leans in slightly, dropping his voice just enough to be a deep, throaty whisper that sends signals directly to my dick.

“But I like meeting new people. Seeing where the night takes me. However, it’s not something I’ve indulged in for a while. ”

“Is that what this is, just a night?” It’s a redundant question, but I ask anyway. The whole idea of the app is hookups.

“I think that’s what got us both here, no?” His voice is full of intention, and I’m feeling hot all over.

This was always the next step. The natural conclusion. We both knew why we were coming here tonight. But I can’t deny that it’s been a long time since I’ve let myself do this.

“You thinking too hard over there?” His voice has smoothed, but there’s a challenge beneath it. One I’m going to rise to. The teasing, the games, the way he pushes just enough to see if I’ll push back, it’s all part of it. And I think he likes that I don’t fold easily.

I take another sip of my whiskey, rolling the smoky taste over my tongue before setting the glass down. Finn’s eyes track the movement, and I decide it’s nice having his attention. “What’s your drink?” I ask, tipping my chin toward the bartender to signal him over.

Finn grins. “That depends. Do I go honest or impressive?”

I hum. “Honest is sexier.”

“Glad you said that,” he says, ordering a beer.

“Didn’t want to pretend I liked overpriced cocktails just to win points.

” As he leans back over the bar, I try not to let my gaze fall from his face to his lean biceps, or the wave tattoo nestled in the crease of his forearm I noticed as soon as he came up next to me, but it’s fruitless.

I check him out, because why the heck not.

His beer arrives, and he takes a slow sip, still watching me over the rim of his glass. “So, Foxx, do we need rules for tonight?”

I look at the way he’s sitting, comfortable, assured, completely in control of this interaction, and I wonder why he wants that validation. I don’t think he needs it, but maybe he wants me to be more vocal, take the reins a bit more. All in good time.

I lean in slightly to let my words slip between us, showing him a side I haven’t let out yet. “That depends, are you planning on misbehaving?”

Finn’s smirk deepens, nostrils flaring with an inhale. “Oh, Foxx, you have no idea how much I’d love to misbehave with you.”

Letting my grin break free, more weight of expectation lifts from my chest. “You might want to be careful what you wish for.”

“Or what?” The way he nibbles on his lower lip has me almost reaching for him. I move closer just as he does, catching that salty sea air scent of whatever body wash he uses, and it makes me feel dizzy. If I moved my head just slightly, our mouths would be inches apart.

“Then I’d have to remind you who’s in charge of how many orgasms you’re allowed tonight.”

His eyes almost roll in his head as he shifts his hips slightly. The way his lips part and that pink tongue sneaks out to moisten the plump skin there... God, I want to taste him.

“You still pretending you haven’t already made up your mind about me?” he murmurs.

“Not pretending, just debating what should happen next…”

“Hm.” His voice drops, just a fraction. “Well, I’m done waiting for you to drag me home.”

And just before my mouth can drop open at his eagerness, he stands, rolling his shoulders and adjusting himself slightly before tilting his head toward the door.

“Come on.” Tossing some cash onto the bar, he slides his hands into his pockets. “Let’s get out of here.”

I should hesitate, drag this out more like he said. I should tell him we don’t have to rush this, that we can sit here for another drink, that I’m in no hurry.

But I don’t.

Because I want this.

So I follow him out the door.