Page 17

finn

After scanning my black membership card at the front, security opens the door for me that leads to the floor.

The club is busier than I expected it to be for a weeknight.

But this place always seems to be hopping.

The floor is lively, music thumping through the speakers, bodies in a wide variety of undress, lingerie, and costumes, but I’ve got eyes for one person and one person only.

I tried to fight the pull to come here tonight, but I couldn’t.

Carter is already at the bar when I arrive, and my heart takes off like a rocket behind my ribs.

Hunched over a glass of whiskey like last time, he looks dejected and lost. Does he not have anything else to do but visit a sex club?

Or is he here for the same reason I am? Because he can’t stay away from me.

I try not to let my mind wander with the thought, even if it makes my heart thump wildly in my chest at the prospect.

Not wanting to waste any time, I take a seat on an empty stool next to him, our shoulders brushing against one another as I do. His spine stiffens, and I wonder if there will ever be a time that he relaxes when I approach him .

“Here to make my life more difficult, Griffin?”

Now, I’m the one to stiffen. Fuck, I hate that name, especially out of his mouth. As if he read my expression, he calls me out on it.

“Damn you really hate your own name, don’t you?”

Instead of answering him, I nod my head to the bartender, pointing at Carter’s whiskey. He quickly pours a whiskey on the rocks and sets it on a napkin in front of me.

“Thanks.”

I take a sip, not enjoying the flavor as much as I enjoy Aspen Ridge’s.

“Ever thought about getting them to stock yours?”

“You mean my family’s whiskey?”

“Yeah, it’s better than this shit they’re pouring.”

He scoffs and brings his drink to his lips.

I track the movement. Watching as the cold liquid pours into his mouth, the slight bob of his throat as he swallows it down.

Everything about the movement is an aphrodisiac for me, and I want to grab his face and suck his tongue into my mouth to taste the whiskey off of it.

I’m positive it would taste better if I drank it mixed with him.

“Surprised you don’t have some negative shit to say about it.”

“None. It’s my favorite.”

“Fuck off with that shit.”

“Believe what you want, but I’m serious.”

We sit in silence, finishing our drinks while the music floats around us, the smell of sex strong in the air.

“Why are you here, Finn?”

God, I love the sound of that. So much better.

“You want the truth or a lie?”

He turns to face me, his knee rubbing across my thigh with the shift .

“Truth.”

“I can’t stay away.” The silence stretches between us while his eyes bore into mine, reading my expression and looking for the lie he isn’t going to find. Whether he wants to believe me or not. “And you can’t either.”

He releases an exhale, as if he’s almost relieved. But maybe that’s just me projecting what I’m hoping he’s feeling.

“That so?” he questions just as we’re interrupted by a visitor.

A female appears between us, her hands moving to each of our shoulders, making her interest in both of us known.

I don’t bother acknowledging her, my eyes focused only on Carter.

The way his hair is styled out of his face, a piece falling forward into his eyes, my fingers itch to push it out of the way.

His eyes are soaking up our suitor, and my heart squeezes painfully.

He’s clearly interested in her. How could he not be?

She’s gorgeous. Fuck. Even if Carter got on board with whatever is between us, would I be enough to sustain him?

He’s only been with women until me, I don’t know if I have it in me to compete with that constantly.

But, God, I want this man so much it hurts.

I remember what it was like to share him, but that was before I had him.

I quickly weigh if I could do this, if I could really share him again.

Part of me feels that if this is the only way I can have him, then I should take it, but when Carter turns around fully, his hand moving to her hip, bile rises up in my throat, and I know my answer.

There’s no way I can share him.

The pretty female steps into his space, Carter sliding his thigh between her legs and pulling her close.

Her hand leaves my shoulder to wrap around his neck, and Carter responds naturally, pulling her closer to him, and my fists clench, nails digging into my skin.

Fuck, she’s practically dry humping him.

He keeps his eyes trained on me, like he’s daring me to intervene, to stop this before it gets too far. Is he fucking serious right now?

“You’re mine.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, my voice dark and menacing.

“The fuck I am.”

As if to prove a point, his hands slide up the back of her thighs, under the short, sequined dress, letting it lift as he grabs her ass in his palms. His eyes meet mine as he kisses her neck, hands kneading into her bare ass, pulling her closer to him.

My heart rate picks up—painfully so—as if it’s being squeezed in a vise.

I feel the moment my facial expression morphs from fury to unwarranted pain.

I don’t have any claim over Carter, he’s not mine.

We aren’t anything more than two lost people who have an intense chemistry between us.

But it feels like so much goddamn more, and I want to explore that. Even if I’m jeopardizing every good thing I have in my life to do so.

I’m two seconds away from leaving when Carter’s head cocks to the side, as if reading my discomfort, before pulling away from the woman. He gently pulls her dress back over her ass, giving it a little playful slap.

“You’re very tempting, beautiful, but not tonight.

I’ve got some business to take care of. Rain check?

” He says the last two words while looking at me to further make his point, and I release a deep exhale of relief.

Point taken. He can be with whoever he wants to, on his terms. He’s in control.

That’s fine. As long as I don’t have to watch him with anyone else. I’d leave before it got too far.

Fuck. Why do I feel so possessive over him? Doesn’t he feel this between us? It’s so strong for me. My pull to him is chemical, at a cellular level, deeper than anything I’ve ever felt before. I can’t stop.

She leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, and I can’t help but wonder if they’ve hooked up before.

My eyes close at the thought, and I suddenly feel like a fish out of water.

I came in here so cocky, eyes only for Carter and so sure he was trapped in this bubble with me—no matter how toxic it may be—and I’m suddenly reminded that Carter is an active member of a sex club where he’s most likely been with people who are currently here.

It’s a thought that didn’t cross my mind until now.

I’ve been so focused on just the two of us that I seem to have forgotten Carter had an entire life before I waltzed in and blew the lid off of it.

We’re alone again, sitting in silence. I study the side profile of his strong face, and struggle with the urge to pull him into a hug.

I hate admitting how badly I just want to hug him.

I don’t need anything more, but to hold Carter close would be a gift.

For some reason, he has the power to silence all the demons in my head, and I love how whole I feel when I’m next to him.

The silence isn’t uncomfortable, both of us lost in our own thoughts as time passes.

“You going to write the article, Nash?”

“Haven’t decided yet, Hayes.”

He nods a few times, letting my words sink in before he gives the bartender a wave and stands to leave.

Fuck, that’s it? I suddenly don’t want to go back to my house alone, I want to stay and talk with him; I want to learn everything there is about him.

I want more. I want everything. Doesn’t he feel this?

It takes extreme effort to keep from smiling as the bell chimes over my head.

I walk into the coffee shop and am met with a welcome, cool breeze.

The interior is cozy while also being vibrant, a classy bohemian aesthetic that works for the space.

A single table sits inside a semi-circle window, an elderly woman with a little white dog in her lap eyeing me suspiciously. Odd.

I take steps further into the inviting space, past the few small booths that line the wall opposite a large pastry display case.

Bean Haven is painted in a loopy scroll on the wall above the counter, and live plants are placed throughout the room.

It’s hard for me not to notice every little detail.

This is definitely a place worthy of writing about.

But do the food and coffee meet my standards?

“Hey! New to town?” A beautiful young woman waltzes from the back room, her lavender-colored hair bouncing around her face. She’s wearing a tank top and jeans, a sleeve of intricately and expertly done floral line work covering an entire arm in a delicate tattoo.

“Hey, just passing through, actually.”

“Well, welcome to Bean Haven. I’m Hannah.”

“Nice to meet you, Hannah. What do you recommend?”

“Well, my best sellers are apple cinnamon muffins, cinnamon rolls, and chocolate croissants. But my favorite is the plum and cream cheese Danish.”

“How about one of each and an Americano?” I say, giving her a flirty wink.

She holds up her left hand and wiggles her fingers.

“Careful, I’m a married woman with a growly husband.”