Page 4 of The Guy from that One Summer
My eyes shoot up to him, and he has a sly grin splayed across his ridiculously handsome face. “Speak for yourself. I’m the one at a disadvantage here. You could overpower me in seconds.” I undo the cap, pour him a few sips worth, and pass it to him.
“Something tells me you can handle yourself just fine.” Our eyes meet, and there is an edge to his, one that screams innuendos and lust.
“Really, and what makes you think that?” I challenge, enjoying the banter.
“You know what I mean. Now, why don’t you tell me what happened to make you drive here at night with enough alcohol to kill a horse?”
For a brief moment, I debate addressing his first remark but decide against it. I’m lonely, vulnerable, emotional, and staring at a man who’s made me horny as hell within minutes of meeting him. Let us not tempt ourselves anymore.
“I was dumped at the altar. Cheers!” I lift my glass into the air then, his face stunned. But he meets me in the middle, our glasses clinking, and instead of shooting his drink, I’m left to do so by myself as he watches me like some exhibited animal at the zoo.
The burn of the tequila has my face bunching and eyes closing. When I open them, they water, but I can still see clearly, and he hasn’t moved.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Fuck me, darling. Areyouall right?” he asks.
I wave him off, but my insides are still burning from the shot and heartbreak, and I do a terrible job at faking I’m okay. “I’ve had the worst day, but unloading on you, a stranger, isn’t going to make it better. In fact, it just makes this whole situation even more pathetic.”
“Pathetic? Remy, that is beyond messed up. What the hell was this bastard thinking?”
“About some other woman and her magical vagina, I guess,” I respond sarcastically, trying so very hard to hide my hurt.
“He left you for another woman?”
“Yes. Three years wasted on a man who left me behind like I was yesterday’s garbage. I didn’t even want to marry him in the first place.”
Finally, Finn takes a sip.
“Why didn’t you want to marry him? Besides the obvious fact that he was a coward.”
As I shrug, a small giggle escapes me. It’s not one of those “he-he, how cute” giggles, but more so an incorrigible, “you’re asking me?” type. “I loved Damon. I did. But he and I were more like really good friends, great roommates, and maybe that’s what really hurts—the betrayal of a friend, maybe?” I shrug again, pouring myself another shot.
“I don’t blame you for hurting. So, you loved him. If he came here, would you take him back?”
My eyes shoot up to his, and my head tilts as I eye him quizzically. “What?”
He stands now, slowly rounding the island. “Daisy, I asked, since you said you loved him, if you want him back,” he growls this time, gaining on me.
And suddenly, the knowledge that he’s a complete stranger I just let into my house comes back with a vengeance, ringing bells and sounding whistles and alarms.
“Finn?” I move back, my eyes darting around the kitchen for any sort of weapon I can use. Because those eyes are dark and honed in on me. There is an ominous yet intoxicated look in his eyes that has nothing to do with tequila.
Oh my fuck. He’s a killer. He’s going to kill me right now. I got left at the altar and murdered all in one day. I’m oh-for-two. I must not be able to spot bad when it’s literally staring me in the face.
“I’m not going to hurt you, baby. I’m going to numb your pain and make you forget it all.”
I gulp, hitting the kitchen counter along the wall. “W-What?” I stutter, chills breaking out all over me, a tingle making its way from top to bottom of my spine.
“Listen. For any man to have you in his fucking hands and then be dumb enough to let those fucking curves slip from them—he’s brain-dead. You let me in here, and all I see is his loss.”
“Finn—”
“No, baby, we’ll talk more later. But for now…” He pauses, caging me in by putting his knuckles to the granite and his lips within inches of mine. “I’m going to fuck you on every goddamn surface of this place and make you forget everyone before me.”
I moan. An actual moan slips from my lips, and my knees buckle, but he catches me.
“You don’t know me,” I choke out. It’s the best thing I can come up with. We just met a mere thirty minutes ago, and now he’s telling me all the wicked things he wants to do to me to help me forget my ex.
