Let Me (O'Brien Family, #2)(64)

Until we weren’t.

I lower myself to the edge of the bed. As angry and upset as I am about everything that transpired, my old friend exhaustion creeps in, making it hard to remain standing. I should sleep on the couch, and not be near him. But as much as I know it’s time to walk away, the need to feel close, this one last time, lures me.

My fingers smooth his hair. He hates the slight wave to it and usually doesn’t allow it to grow long enough for the edges to curl. I don’t mind, and like the softness to it. But then I like everything about him, everything that makes him “Finn” . . . even those demons he hides because don’t we all have our share?

Yet as much as I’ve wanted to support and love him, I fed those demons instead of lulling them to sleep.

“I should have stayed away from you,” I whisper. “I should have kept my distance and left you alone.”

It’s my last comment that stirs the misery I’ve tried to beat back. But when his hand covers mine, and he moves it toward his face, I just about break down.

“Hey, beautiful,” he whispers against my palm, his breath soft and warm.

The gesture is my undoing. I miss him and his sweet personality. I miss that tender side he reserves solely for me. I miss how we laughed, and I miss the way we touched. But I’ve been selfish, keeping him with me and causing him trauma he could have done without.

Shit. It was bad enough that he found my mother the way he did. But then he prolonged the experience by staying to comfort me when I fell into hysterics. Some counselor I am. I couldn’t save my mother, and I worsened Finn’s depression.

I bend and kiss his cheek, my tears dripping onto the bed. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, because God knows, I truly am.

I wish I could say I don’t regret my time with Finn, but I do. If I hadn’t come along, he wouldn’t be this bad off. Mason would be helping him recover, and he’d be in a better place. “I’m sorry,” I say, again.

He mumbles something I can’t quite understand. I think he wants water. I start to rise to hand him the glass when his grip tightens over mine. “No,” he slurs. “I want you to lay with me.”

For all I know, he thinks I’m one of the women who planned to spend the night with him. It should make me angry, but instead it makes me sadder. I lay beside him, my back against his chest. He fastens his arm around my waist as I gather the sheets around us. But when his lips pass along my neck and his hand slips beneath my shirt, I know we’re not going to sleep.

I should tell him, no, and leave the bed. Wasted or not, Finn wouldn’t force me to have sex with him. Yet as much as I know I shouldn’t be with him, I don’t stop him, allowing him to roll me onto my back and kiss me.

My arms slide around his neck when he climbs on top of me and starts to rub his groin between my legs. I don’t think he can get hard, not with how drunk he remains. But as his erection presses against me, he proves how wrong I really am.

He shouldn’t feel this good. But he does. He always has.

I tug off his long-sleeved T-shirt when he strips me out of my top and bra. His movements aren’t smooth, not like I’m used to. But that doesn’t stop me from craving his touch, nor does it stop my whimpers when he dips his head to suck on my nipples.

He swears with frustration when he tries to yank off his jeans and briefs and they tangle on his ankle. As he struggles to kick them off I realize this is my last chance to stop him―to get out of bed. But as much as he needs me then, I need him just as much.

My kisses, my wandering hands, and the way my hips instinctively mimic his rhythm are what finally incite him to pull off what’s left of our clothes. He reaches between us, sliding his thick length inside me, causing us both to moan. His eyes were closed as we teased and played. They aren’t once he begins to thrust. They take me in as they have so many times before, lustful yet loving, his hands passing along the swells of my breasts and through my hair.

It doesn’t take me long to peak, not with how fast and hard he’s ramming his hips. I’m sure he’ll take longer in his condition, and he does, repeatedly spiking my desire and making me orgasm. My fingers dig into the muscles on his shoulders as once more my core clenches tight. It’s then he finally falls forward, his release hitting him like a primal force.

As he slows his rhythm and finishes filling me, his eyes once again close. It’s just as well, I don’t want him to see me then―not the way my heart feels like it’s breaking. So when he lowers himself to my belly, stopping only to kiss the spot between my breasts, I see it as a gift.

I love Finn. Maybe I always have. That doesn’t mean I get to keep him.





I don’t remember falling asleep, but when I see the rays of sunlight poking through the drawn curtains, I realize we slept a long time. The phone rings, my muddled mind determining that’s what woke me the first time. Finn rolls off me to answer it, but not before muttering a few swears.

“Yeah?” he asks, rubbing his eyes as he shifts to the edge of the bed.

“Good morning, Mr. O’Brien,” the woman on the other line merrily answers. “Your checkout time was at eleven, but we haven’t heard from you. Will you be extending your stay with us today?”

“What time is it?” he asks, groaning.

“It’s twelve-thirty, sir.”