Page 41 of When The Rain Falls

14I’M RESISTING

FINN

I set the bikini down,very much not imagining the places it's meant to cover. I only picked it up to change the subject. To move on as quickly as possible from the fact that I touched her vibrator. I try not to think about where she putsthat. I even try to forget that she has legs. And about what's between her legs. Fuck. This needs to stop. My neck and my ears still feel like they're burning, but I'm doing my best to recover from what just happened.

"Oh, while you're here, can you help me with something?" Aimee’s voice is light and sweet. And I’m immediately suspicious. Her lips press together and I can't stop staring at them. She's putting me into a trance. I hope she's going to ask for something simple. Because right now. I feel like I'd give her anything she wants. And if this has something to do with her vibrator than fuck yes, I will help her withsomething.

"What color?" She puts on one red heel and one black one. She alternates between lifting up each leg to demonstrate what each one would look like. I watch the muscles on her leg contract and release. I didn't realize calf muscles could be so attractive. My gaze travels upward. Up her thigh. To the narrow of herwaist. The round of her ass. The swell of her—Stop it, idiot. Back down the leg my eyes go.

She’s doing this on purpose.

I just know it.

And it’s fucking working. Because right now, all I can think about is sliding my hand up her legs and bringing the lacy hem of her dress with them until she’s bare, and exposed, and fucking wet for me. I shake the fantasy from my head.

"You should wear flat shoes," I scold her, because apparently when I get sexually frustrated by women that I can’t have, I go into protective dad mode. "They're more practical." I don't mention that the heels elongate her legs. Or that the dress sits at just the right height on her thigh to tempt me into imagining the rest of her. Or that she looks absolutely irresistible. But she is resistible. Because I’m resisting. I clench my jaw.

You’re resisting, Finn.Resisting.

I don’t care if some dick-wad is going to see her this way. And probably touch her. And fuck.

I’m resisting.

"It's a date," she says matter-of-factly. "It's not about being practical. It's about being sexy."

"A date withwho?" I ask her. Even though I'm pretty sure I already know.

"Whom," she corrects me.

"A date withwhom?" I obediently repeat the question like a good boy. Fuck. I’m just eating right out of her hands. Speaking of eating, it would be so easy to lay her down in that sorry excuse for a dress, pull it up above her hips, and?—

"Jack," she says, just in time to, once again, keep my brain on track. Her answer causes my hands to ball up into tight fists at my side.

"Who’s Jack? The motorcycle kid?" I ask. Anyone who drives through a residential neighborhood revving their motorcycleengine is a child. Not a man. Aimee laughs at me and gives me a half-cocked smile.

"He's not a kid," she says. "Because if he's a kid, then I'm a kid. Do you think I'm a kid?" That reminds me that I don't actually know her age. I just know she's probably too young. Too young for what? I'm not sure. Everything. And who cares how young she is? Doesn't matter to me. I’m not going to fucking touch her. I’m just going to think about it every third second of the day.

"You act like one," I tell her. She hoots. Like a fucking owl. Aimee picks up the purple vibrator, turns it on, and waves it in front of my face. My mind is assaulted by an intrusive image. Aimee holding the vibrator between her legs. Head back, mouth open, and moaning. Tweaking one delicious nipple.

Hi, my name is Finn Hudson and I’m fucked. Nice to meet you.

"Cut it out." I push her hand away. "You're going to give me a stroke."

"Oh, I'll give you a stroke," she says as she runs her hand up and down the length of the vibrator.

"This," I tell her sternly, "this is what I'm talking about." I step closer. I don't know why. I should be stepping backwards, but I'm not thinking at all. I'm moving on pure, hot, lustful instinct. She laughs and rests her back against the wall. It would be so easy to grab her hands and pin them above her. Pressure is building inside me and crashing against the walls of my chest.

"Goddamn woman, stop being such a..." It was a half-baked sentence and now I don't know how to end it.

"A what? A cock tease?" she asks.

"A brat."

"If I'm a brat. Does that make you my daddy?" she asks as she runs her finger up my pec. She traces my nipple and, with all the willpower in me, I command my dick to stay down. The tiny littledevil has returned to dancing in her eyes. It's playing the fiddle and dancing around a blazing fire.

"I told you not to call me that. It sounds filthy," I mutter under my breath. My body freezes as I drink in the sight of her. All strappy lace, her backside pressed up against a wall. I could press my knee between her legs right now. So easily. Split them apart. Spread them wide. Force myself between them. I feel my chest rise and fall rapidly. I'm not sure exactly how I got here, but I'm only a step away from her now. There's nothing but air between us. And it doesn't seem like enough. Aimee slowly slides her back down the wall. The back of her dress rides up with the friction. Two creamy, thick thighs appear in front of my own. I'm in actual hell. Actual living hell.

"What are you doing?" I mutter.

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