Page 109 of Manacled Hearts

Finnigan shows up to my right, facing me instead of sitting on the stool, and his gaze spreads fire over my body. I dare a peak, and he’s watching my arched back, my ass, like he’s about to tackle me to the floor and feast on it.

Please, please feast on it!

And I realize, utterly horrified, that I’m going to leave a damp patch on this leather barstool. I have no idea how I’m going to hide it from him. Or the others.

There’s no going back now.

“One drink,” he says on a low rumble, his tone laced with whiskey and fire, “then I’m getting you home.”

My gaze shoots to him, drowning in the promise in his voice, and I know he doesn’t miss the hitch in my breath, nor the shift in my thighs as I press them together. I have no drink to fiddle with, only my fingers that are getting increasingly damper, and I’m not sure what to do with myself. Not when he doesn’t stop looking at me with azure eyes heavy with unspoken promises, his wide, thick shoulders tensing as he holds himself unusually still. A trickle of sweat runs from beneath my sports bra tickling down my spine, and I shiver at the sensation, my back arching slightly in response. His gaze shoots right there, and I think his hand was about to follow too, but he stops himself, flexing his fist as he follows that drop of sweat disappear in the seam of my leggings.

His eyes are still there, unmoving and tense. “Where’s Maya?”

“Downstairs with Maddox. She has a sleepover planned with Aaro after,” I say it all in one breath. One hot, heavy breath.

“Where?”

“Vincent’s.”

He only grunts in response, his gaze still fixed on my skin. Or my ass. Whichever it is, I curse the clothes covering the area, and I curse the company even more.

“Here you go, Evelyn.”

My eyes snap toward Carter who gives me such a suggestive look, there is no mistaking the fact that he wants me to know that he can tell what’s going on. My skin prickles yet again, because yes, Finnigan has eaten my pussy with such hunger, the ghost of his tongue is still there when I close my eyes, and he fingered me with enough expertise, I’m ready to beg him for more. But we haven’t spoken about it. He hasn’t said a word to me about what we have done. He’s giving me enough suggestive looks and considering how hung up he’s been on the forbidden side of things, I can certainly call this progress. Even without the verbal acknowledgment.

Where is this going?

How far is he going to allow it to go?

And where will I stop?

Because being here, in Queenscove, among people who have done nothing but protect me and root for me, has been gold dust for my growth. I’m a waitress in a café, but on the inside, I feel like I can take over the damn world.

Only, right now it’s not the world I’m craving to tackle, but Finnigan Hennessey. The man with a sharp jaw, an even sharper tongue, and forbidden desire painted vividly in his bright blue eyes. I should care about his previous rejections, they should stir me in the opposite direction, and this might make me stupid, but I crave his acceptance more.

Not because I’m a sucker for punishment, not because I’m a doormat, but because the moment he looked into my eyes when I walked out of that container, I saw a soul drowning in the same pain as mine. A person who couldn’t bear to scream his loneliness out loud, their mind breaking with the harrowing noise of it. I saw a man with a broken heart and a broken soul who wanted nothing more than kindred company. And I never said it, never even allowed it to touch on my inner monologue, but deep down I knew that person had to be me.

There are shackles around our hearts, binding our souls in catatonic states of silent despair—and we need each other to break them.

Even if I do leave this beautiful place that gave me my life back, at least I’ll leave unshackled. I’ll even leave my heart with him if I have to, because at least I’ll know that for a moment, I was free. And I’ll know that he is too.

I take the glass Carter carefully poured for me, and the first taste warms me with such decadent sweetness, I down three more big sips one after the other, on a groan deep in my throat.

Finnigan’s eyes widen, looking at the glass like it offended him somehow. I get only a swift growl in warning as he grabs it and downs it in one go, slamming it back on the bar. One drop glimmers at the corner of his mouth, and when the tip of his tongue reaches to lick it, I’m back in his bedroom, his head between my legs, my cries covered by his hand on my mouth.

God help me…

“Time to go.” He grabs my hand in his much larger one and pulls me down from the chair.

“Excuse me?” My protest lands on deaf ears, because he fully ignores me as he drags me back toward the back door.

I barely get to say goodbye as he grabs my back without even stopping, and ushers me through the corridor I came through. I try to pry myself out of his grip but fail.

“You don’t get to say what I do or don’t do, Finnigan. If I want to enjoy a drink, I can enjoy a damn—”I run into Finnigan’s back as he briefly stops at the top of the stairs.

Warm, wide, strong back I’m dying to rake my nails over. Christ, what is happening with me?

“Yo, Severin!” Finnigan calls out for his friend, ignoring me, and then sets off again, walking down the stairs.

---