Let Me (O'Brien Family, #2)(13)

I watch as she turns back to her food, appearing to force the last bite down. I pop the last mini quiche in my mouth, taking my time to finish it. But when she wipes her mouth, I think maybe it’s time to make her feel better. Most guys, would probably ask her about her internship to distract her or talk about something general like movies or some shit. But most guys aren’t me.

“So,” I say “Kick anyone in the balls lately?”

She lowers her napkin away from her mouth, turning slowly toward me. Ah, there’s that smile I like.

“Of all the things you could’ve brought up,” she says.

I toss the empty plate on the table. “It’s a compliment. That was one mighty fine kick.”

Sol and I always knew of each other, but ran with different crowds. From time to time, I’d run into her at a party. But either she had a date, or I had some girl on my arm― the exception being one night a few years back.

Me and my crew had landed at a party she and her friends were at. Some idiots were giving her shit about her mom, calling her crazy and telling her she’d end up the same way. I stepped in―not just because I kind of knew her―but because here were these *s picking on someone weaker than them.

“I thought you were this poor a defenseless woman,” I confess. “Nothing like watching a dude collapse, clutching tight to his nuts prove me wrong.”

She clutches her belly, laughing, but by now I’m laughing to. Except the more we look at each other, the more our humor fades and something shifts between us.

“I never thanked you for helping me that night,” she says, her voice gentle and so low I barely hear it.

“It’s not too late,” I offer, holding out my hands.

“I’m serious,” she says.

“I am, too,” I admit.

Her smile lights up the dimness, even though by now I’m walking that fine line between arrogant and endearing. “You barely knew me,” she says. “But you still took on what? Three guys to protect me?”

“More like three pussies,” I tell her, unable to pry my attention off her face. I’d stepped in to lead her away and keep her safe. But not before I told those dickheads to f*ck off. The guys didn’t know I was a fighter. They only knew my friends weren’t close and that I was wrecked. One of the bigger ones started shit and tried to grab Sol. Wrecked or not, I made them pay.

“I didn’t like them messing with you,” I say, my voice hinting at growl the more I remember.

“I know,” she says. “It was really gallant of you.”

“Gallant?” I ask. “That’s a word you don’t hear every day.”

“Think of it as another handy adjective you can add to your repertoire.” She winks. “It will impress the ladies.”

I’m being a cocky prick, in my speech and tone. But I do mean what I say. “What if you’re the one I’m trying to impress?” I ask.

Her expression softens. “You already have,” she answers quietly.

“Oh, yeah? When?”

I expect her to tell me something related to fighting, seeing my rep and accomplishments in MMA are the only thing people really admire me for. But that’s not what she says.

She leans back against the couch, watching me carefully. “That night you helped me. You were brave and kind and exactly who I needed.”

I don’t move. Her words―the way she means them―shit. Just like that she holds me in place. It’s like every muscle in my face tenses. I’m not sure what I look like then. Stunned maybe? Whatever I give away―or maybe don’t―causes her to shift her attention toward the fireplace.

Like me, she’s probably remembering that night, how I walked her and her friends out to their car afterward, and how I reached for her and tried to kiss her.

I edge closer, enough so my leg touches hers. “You told me I was ‘cute’, remember? But you wouldn’t let me kiss you. Said you would when I was sober.”

She meets my face. The way the flames dance across her delicate features and cast light against her hair cause my chest to tighten. Fuck. What the hell is she doing to me?

“You were drunk,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”

“I’m not drunk now,” I remind her, my voice deepening. “Still think I’m cute?”

She doesn’t move, her large eyes fixing on mine.

Before I can figure out a reason why I shouldn’t, I lean in and kiss her.





CHAPTER 6


Sol



My eyes close as Finn’s mouth captures mine. I don’t expect him to have soft lips, not given how tough I know he is. Yet he does. They brush against mine, sweeping, teasing, playing. But as the heat between us surges, and before the kiss can really begin, it ends.

He pulls away, his eyes searching mine. He’s not smiling. He’s not joking. He simply stares at me like he’s not sure what just happened. “That’s still not the kiss you owe me,” he says, cementing me in place.

“It’s not?” I ask, kicking myself for not coming up with something better. In my defense, those are some damn fine lips.

He grins in that way that’s so Finn: playful yet totally sexy. “No. The kiss you owe me is way hotter than that,” he says with a wink.