Like Gravity(45)

Finn was wiping tears his eyes and still chuckling when I felt him squat down beside me. Then it was my turn to hold in the giggles, as I watched Finn Chambers – campus’ very own mythical sex god and legendary badass – scooping up my tampons and shoving them into my purse like they were on fire or dripping with arsenic. When everything – with the exception of one tube of Sexy Mother Pucker – was back in my purse, we stood up and faced each other.

I was still muttering under my breath about rude boys and the loss of my gloss, when Finn stepped forward into my space and tilted my chin up so I was staring into his eyes. Words died on my tongue, my brain frazzled into static, and all I could think about was last night. My legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed me into the side of a pickup truck, his lips roaming down my neck, his mouth kissing away the tears that tracked down my cheeks.

His eyes captured mine and held, the smoldering desire I saw burning in them telling me that he was thinking about last night too. One hand slowly lifted to stroke my cheek, his fingers skimming lighting over my cheekbone in a soft, almost reverent caress. The other hand threaded into my long ponytail and, with a gentle tug, he pulled me closer. I went willingly, my anger long forgotten.

His head lowered until his forehead was resting in the crook of my neck. He inhaled deeply, then let out a groan. “God, you smell incredible. Like cinnamon and apple pie. It should be illegal to smell the way you do.”

I let out a breathy laugh, which cut off sharply when I felt Finn’s tongue trace slowly up my neck. I shivered when his lips reached my ear and he tugged at the lobe with his teeth. His hands moved to my hips and he walked me slowly backwards until I was pressed between his body and the side of Lexi’s car.

“What is it with you and cars?” I breathed teasingly.

His head lifted abruptly from its lavish appreciation of my earlobe and he stared down at me, eyes suddenly serious. “It’s got very little to do with cars, and everything to do with you. Doesn’t matter where – I’m always going to want you, Bee. Every time I see you, it takes everything in me not to drag you against the nearest wall and taste that perfect pink mouth of yours.” His hooded gaze dropped to my lips.

His words sent another shiver through me, and I had a sudden realization that if he was this sensual in a public parking lot, he would be a different creature entirely if – okay, when – we got behind closed doors. My thighs clenched together at that thought and I squirmed a bit under his heated gaze.

“My very own caveman,” I drawled in a perfect, much-rehearsed Southern drawl that would make Vivien Leigh proud. He smirked roguishly and then, before I could react, his mouth captured mine.

His hands gently cupped my face with a tenderness that belied the demands of his lips. My mouth parted on a gasp and his tongue sought mine immediately. I began to respond to his kiss, my hands twining up to grip his broad shoulders. When my tongue stroked gently against his in return, Finn groaned and pulled away, his breathing labored. Resting his forehead against mine, his blue eyes were full of tenuously-leashed passion.

He closed his eyes and pulled a deep breath in through his nose, trying to calm himself. I smirked, enjoying the effect I’d had on him, and he stepped back to put a few feet between us, as if our close proximity was too tempting for him to remain in control.

“What’s with the paint?” he asked, voice rough as he gestured toward the forgotten paint cans by my feet.

“I’m going to paint my bedroom,” I responded with a casual shrug, as if it was no big deal, something I did every week. As if I were one of those girls – like Lexi – who spent hours on Pinterest looking at recipes, crafting ideas, and the 99 ways you can “upcycle” old newspapers into your very own fashion line. I had never and would never be that girl – planning my imaginary wedding twelve years in advance and picking out color palettes for my dream house. Never.

Finn raised a questioning eyebrow at me but didn’t comment on my sudden desire to redecorate.

“Do you have rollers?” he asked.

I stared at him blankly for a minute, then looked away a bit sheepishly when I realized that, in my hurry to leave Andler’s, I’d forgotten to grab paintbrushes and rollers. I guessed I’d be making that trip to Home Depot after all.

“No,” I said, crossing my arms defensively over my chest, mentally daring him to make fun of me. There would definitely be no more make-out sessions if he did, and I made sure my glare told him exactly that.

He smiled as if he could read my thoughts and, for once, didn’t tease me.

Smart choice.

“What about brushes? Coveralls? Painter’s tape? Drop cloths? An edger? Primer?” He continued to rattle off paint supplies – none of which I had purchased – until I couldn’t even remember them all. I looked at him perplexedly, a bit taken aback. Who knew painting required so many materials?

“Okay, so maybe I forgot a few things,” I mumbled, not looking at him. His muffled laughter brought my eyes back to his face.

“I’ll meet you at your place in a few hours,” he sighed. “I have to go grab some supplies.”

“I don’t need your help,” I snapped automatically, trying to cover the flash of anxiety that had streaked through me at his words. “You’re not my boyfriend. And I’m not going to f*ck you as a reward, if that’s what you’re thinking.”