Let Me (O'Brien Family, #2)(20)

“Preface?” she asks. Despite the way her arm is draped over her eyes, I still catch sight of her grin.

“Yeah, ‘preface’. I know what it means. Believe it or not I’m smarter than I look.” I mean it as a joke, because even though I’ve made some pretty stupid mistakes, and say some really dumbass things, I’m not stupid, and I’m sure as shit not dumb.

Sol doesn’t take it as a joke, dropping her arm away. “I know you’re smart, Finn. I don’t question that for a moment.” Her eyes trail over my arms, taking in my tribal tats. “You’re just so ‘street’. And ‘preface’ isn’t exactly a street word.”

“No, it’s not.” She has a point. I probably wouldn’t use that word at the gym. I have a rep to maintain.

My fingers slide over her bare feet as I think back to our kiss. You can say I want more. Hell, you can say I want a lot more. But for now, I’ll behave. Maybe.

Her toes wiggle as I skim her instep. She had on socks earlier, but that’s before Lynnie soaked the bathroom floor. “So you saying I should stick to using words with four letters?” I murmur, paying close attention the sweeps of her soles.

“Of course not,” she says, averting her chin.

She squirms when I pass my thumbs along the ball of her right foot. I grin, knowing I’m killing her in a way that’s probably turning her on. “All right then,” I tell her. “Like I was saying, when you preface a question by asking if it will be weird, than my guess is that it will be. But what the hell? Ask anyway.”

“Are you okay?” she asks.

Am I unstable, she probably means. My muscles tense, but I force myself to keep the massage to her feet gentle. She doesn’t know anything about me, what I’ve been through. So I clue her in before I realize how much I’m really telling her. I shrug. “I’ve been dealing with a lot lately―pissed over shit I should just let go.”

“Like what?” she asks.

My fingers release her feet to trail lightly over her ankles. “I haven’t always made good decisions,” I answer, meeting her face. I’m not proud of what I have to say, but that doesn’t mean I’m a * about it. “I have a lot of anger. Fighting has always been a good way for me to release some of it out, but lately it hasn’t helped as much as it has in the past.”

She nods like she seems to understand even though I know she can’t. Women like Sol, they don’t rage. Sure, they have their freak-outs. But when they drink too much, they usually end up puking or telling the world that they love it. I don’t love the world when I drink. I drink because sometimes I hate it and everyone in it to hell and back. The drinking helps me dull that anger. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.

“Thank you,” Sol says, putting my head back in the game.

“For what?”

“For trusting me, and telling me what’s going on,” she explains quietly.

“Is this the part where you slip me a twenty?”

“What?” she asks.

I remind her what she did at the diner. “You paid for my breakfast to thank me for making you smile. Now you’re thanking me for giving you my trust.” I rub my jaw. “Hmmm. Trust is a big deal. Don’t you think it deserves more than a twenty?”

Her shoulders and a couple of other things bounce as she laughs. “Are you trying to tell me you charge for your services?”

“Nah. That would make me a whore. But I can think of other ways you can thank me.”

“You’re funny,” she says, relaxing into the couch.

“No. You think I’m sexy,” I remind her, my palm sliding down her calf. “And I think you used the word hot, too, but either works.”

“I never said hot,” she claims.

“Maybe,” I say, tossing her a wink that causes her to wiggle. “That doesn’t mean you’re not thinking it.”

I expect her to either hold onto her smile, or shove me playfully away with her feet. She doesn’t do either, she simply looks at me. So I try a little harder.

“You ready to make out?”

Oh, and there’s that laugh. “Finn, I told you. This isn’t a good time for me.”

“All right.” I make a show of glancing at an antique wall clock to our right. “How about in another five minutes?”

She covers her mouth with her hand, as if embarrassed because of how much she’s laughing or because of what I say. But then she drops her hand away and glances at the baby monitors that show Mattie and Lynnie fast asleep. “Okay,” she says.

For a second, she catches me off guard. Eventually I was sure she’d let me kiss her again, but I’ll confess, I thought I’d have to try a little harder. Sol is beautiful, and smart, and man, seriously smokin’. So I’ll take that kiss and maybe a little more.

My hand glides along her leg. “Okay in five minutes. Or okay right now?”

She sits up, her thick hair falling around her face. There’s not a lot of light in the family room. Only the side table lamps are on. But I catch enough shimmer in her eyes that tells me she wants me, and maybe likes me more than she’s letting on.

“Okay now,” she answers.

Well, all right then.

My left arm hooks beneath her knees, my right circles around her waist. She’s tiny compared to me, and a hell of a lot lighter. In one smooth motion she’s on my lap, her eyes widening with how quick I move, and how easily I take her.