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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN-FINLEY

I don’t even know how this happened.

One minute I was avoiding him like it was an Olympic sport, and the next, I’m in Koa’s rental.

His very large, very private SUV.

Alone. With him. And we’ve been driving in silence for three hours.

Not comfortable silence.

Charged silence.

The kind that vibrates under your skin.

The kind that makes your thighs clench for no reason and has your heart beating like it knows something’s about to go down.

It’s only 9 PM, but I swear if we don’t stop soon, I’m going to spontaneously combust right here in the passenger seat.

My nipples are so hard, they ache. I’m basically a walking do me sign in fucking hot pink yoga pants with a matching tank top.

No, I had no time to change at all. Besides, the sexy fucker already had my luggage in his trunk.

I huff out a sigh.

All this anticipation has me frazzled as all get.

Koa hasn’t said a word since we merged onto the highway.

His dark eyes stay on target, glued to the road.

His jaw is so tense it could cut glass.

One hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift like he’s preventing it from suddenly getting up and running away on its own.

The radio’s on low, something like classic rock and roll humming in the background.

I can’t tell you the name of the song playing.

Too busy spending all my energy on trying to remain calm.

But all I can hear is my pulse pounding in my ears, and my inner voice screaming at me to jump him, jump him now.

The things he said earlier. Those secret wishes, dirty little promises he uttered so easily. That filthy, growled list of all the things he wants to do to me?

They’re playing on a loop in my head.

Each one more X-rated than the last.

Each one making me want to slide into his lap and beg him to make good on every single word.

Now, listen. I know sex doesn’t equal a relationship.

But this man?

Koa Jackson is a walking, talking, six-foot-four rugby sex god.

He’s carved like a sculpture.

He scowls like it’s an art form.

And he growls like he was born to bend a woman over and fuck the thoughts right out of her head.

And don’t get me started on his dick.

I haven’t even done more than touch it, but I know— I know —it’s thick and veiny and capable of very illegal things.

So far, I’ve had my hands on him. And his cum on me.

But I want more.

No. I need more .

I’m practically vibrating out of my seat with need. And nothing about this makes sense.

We started as enemies. Then it was more. Some banter. Just a harmless flirtation. A little heat on the sidelines. Fun and teasing and no attachments.

But now?

Now thoughts of Koa consume me night and day.

It’s not just the possibility of good sex, either.

It’s him.

His scowls.

His stupidly rare smiles.

His dry, wicked humor.

The way he looks at me.

Like he already knows what color I blush when he says something filthy, and he can’t wait to say something more.

He can be so damn alpha. So dominant and sexy and hot.

He’s ambitious and a wonderful leader. His teammates trust him. On the field and off.

They look up to him. And I admire that.

But there’s another side to him, too. A side that’s vulnerable and sweet.

And maybe just for me.

I want to lick him from head to toe and slap a sticker on his chest that says MINE .

He shifts in his seat, flexing one thigh. His shorts are riding high on his legs, and I catch a glimpse of beautifully scrolled ink.

I let out a little noise.

Nothing major.

Just a breathy, strangled little mmmph that absolutely betrays the war zone going on in my pants.

He hears it.

Of course he does.

His hand tightens on the wheel. His jaw ticks.

Fuck.

That’s it. I can’t do this anymore.

I turn to him, heart racing, skin flushed, voice barely a whisper, but firm as hell.

“Koa?”

He glances at me, eyes flicking over my face like he’s afraid this is another goodbye.

But I don’t make him wait. I don’t punish him like I should for making me so damn crazy.

Instead, I lick my lips, then say, “Find us a hotel.”

He blinks.

Once.

Twice.

Then his lips curl into something dark and satisfied as he peels down the highway and turns into the first decent looking hotel we come across.

“You sure you’re ready for this, Red?” he asks, turning to me as he pulls into an empty spot.

He’s not smiling anymore. Not teasing.

I’m looking straight at him. My eyes clear, my pulse steady, and I reply, “Oh, I’m ready, number eight. I just hope you can keep up with me.”

Hotel Room – 12:47 AM

The room is quiet when we step inside, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound as the door clicks shut behind us.

Koa doesn’t speak.

Neither do I.

Not at first.

We’re both buzzing .

Strung tight from hours, no, it’s more like days of want, of words unspoken, of hands held back by the thin thread of restraint.

His eyes flick over the room, then back to me, slow and hungry.

Two queen beds. Crisp white linens. A wide mirror above the dresser.

He locks the door.

And turns to me.

The heat in his gaze has weight.

I feel it everywhere .

My chest rises, breathing shallow. My thighs press together on instinct.

“Take your trainers off,” he says.

His voice is low.

Rough.

Commanding.

My fingers move before I consciously tell them to.

I kick off my sneakers, one after the other, my heart jack hammering in my chest.

“Now your top.”

“So bossy,” I whisper, and I hesitate— but only for a second.

Then I grip the hem of my shirt, tug it over my head, and let it fall to the floor.

“Now your pants.”

I push them over my hips. And I stand in my matching pink thong.

His breath leaves him in a slow exhale.

“Fuck.”

Koa steps forward and runs his knuckles down the swell of my breast, over the tops of my breasts.

“You were going to sit next to me all night with this perfect body wrapped up in pink cotton and lace, just pretending I wasn’t losing my mind, weren’t you, Red?”

I shiver. “Maybe.”

He shakes his head slowly, almost reverently.

“Red, I swear to everything I have ever held holy, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

He steps in. Close enough that our chests brush.

Close enough that I feel the hard length of him pressed against my stomach.

His hands cradle my face, rough thumbs sweeping over my cheekbones like I’m breakable.

But there’s nothing soft in his eyes.

“I’m not going to be gentle,” he warns.

“Good,” I whisper. “I don’t want gentle.”

The kiss he gives me is brutal .

Impossibly hot and all-consuming.

His tongue lashes at me. His teeth close over my flesh.

He is all intense hunger and raw need.

I moan against his mouth as he grabs my ass with both hands, hauling me up. My legs wrap around his waist on instinct.

“Careful. I’m heavy.”

“Not for me. You were made for me.”

I think I actually do believe him. He carries me like I weigh nothing, tossing me onto the bed.

I bounce once, breathless, eyes wide.

Koa rips his shirt over his head and holy hell —that body.

I want to fall down at his feet and worship him.

And I will. Later.

Right now I’m strung so tight, I think I might break.

Golden skin stretched over slabs of muscle.

Veins.

Tattoos. So many sexy tattoos.

That deep V that leads to every filthy thought I’ve had for days.

He crawls on the bed, slow and predatory.

Pushing my knees open, he shoulders his way between my legs and presses his entire face against my damp panties.

“Fuck, Finley, you smell so good. Like need and vanilla. Passion and honey. Goddamn, you’re so fucking wet. This little pussy is dying for me, isn’t she?”

“Koa!” I moan his name, flexing my hips to entice him.

“Easy, Red.”

His mouth finds my sensitive inner thigh—nipping, sucking—while his hands work my thong down my hips.

Immediately, I know they aren’t going to make it off with the way he has my legs spread, but Koa doesn’t worry.

No. He simply tears them.

His tongue moves up to the place where my leg meets my aching sex. He licks me on one side.

The other, moving ever so close to where I need him.

“What is it you want, Red? Tell me.”

“Stop teasing,” I whine, but I don’t mean it.

Whatever he wants is what I want. I’ll take it all shamelessly. Anything, everything he wants to give me, I will take, and I will cherish it.

His hands move up my hips while he places open-mouthed kisses on my mound and my labia.

His clever fingers move up and up, sweeping over my aching nipples until I arch beneath him, moaning.

“I’m going to learn every sound you make,” he growls, “and I’m going to spend the rest of my whole life chasing them.”

He kisses down my lower belly, the little pooch I sometimes hate to look at when I’m trying on new clothes.

But he seems obsessed with it, and maybe it’s my new favorite piece of me.

Koa growls as he kisses his way back down to my needy pussy.

He lifts his face, and I swear, in that dim lighting, with his dark hair curling on his forehead and his plump lips parted, Koa looks like the Devil himself.

His dark, velvet eyes meet mine, and he grins.

“Time to eat.”