Page 126 of What About Us
“Because she’s my baby sister.” I jerk my head in Hayley’s direction, my shoulders bunched and fists tightened. Then, I narrow my eyes at thisasshole before biting out through clenched teeth, “And she’s my fuckingwife.”
A collective gasp ripples through the small crowd of my siblings, all of whom ping-pong their gazes between Finn, me, and the guy currently shitting his pants at my words. Well, all except for Hutch, who huffs a satisfied laugh through his nose and steps up next to me, towering way the fuck over this piece of shit. I hazard a glance at Finn, but her face is unreadable.
Douche Canoe One looks wholly uncomfortable, then backs up a step, holding up his hands with palms out. “All right, fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t see a ring on her finger,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest and shooting an anxious look at Hutch.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Hutch says, jerking his head in the direction of the exit.
The dude nods, glancing at his friend, who ducks his head and walks away. Soon, their entire table is pushing back their chairs, swiping up hats from the tabletop, and heading toward the exit.
I step close to Finn, tangling our fingers together. I drop my voice to just above a whisper. “Are you ok, babe?”
Her dark eyes wide, she looks from our clasped hands to the stunned faces of my siblings, before meeting my gaze again. I can’t tell if she’s upset, embarrassed, or both.
“I’m fine,” she mumbles. “I just…need a minute.” Then, she spins on her heel and scurries off in the direction of the bathroom.
Hayley flicks a grimace in my direction. Looking around, Wren’s eyebrows are halfway up her forehead, but Hank’s stoic as usual. Nat and Norah are whispering together, and Hutch still hasn’t wiped that self-satisfied look off his face.
I watch Finn go. “Fuck,” I mutter. With one last glance at my family—their expectant faces bouncing between me and where she’s retreating—I turn around and follow her. We absolutely owe everyone an explanation after that little pissing contest, but it’ll have to wait.
Chapter 46
Finnley
When the guy inthe cheap polyester western shirt and bedazzled pants cornered me at the pool table, I knew what was coming. I knew he’d run his mouth, talk a big game, and be a regular jackass, if those pants were any indication. But I also knew I wasn’t in any danger. I mean, Hales was there, along with the twins, and we were in a full bar. Nothing was going to happen. Other than that jerk running his mouth.
What I hadn’t expected was Hudson swooping in like a man possessed. Raw anger rolled off him like a physical presence. I’ve known Hudson a long time, and I have never seen him like that. Seeing him all growly and protective as he stalked toward the pool table had my stomach and my pussy tightening simultaneously.
His loud declaration—she’s my fucking wife—spoken with such heat and passion, and the way the word “wife” rolled off his tongue nearly dropped me to my knees. Who knew I’d love that word so much, snarled in my defense.Hot. As. Fuck. I’d stood there, shocked at how one little word could both stop me in my tracks and make me want to launch myself athim. His family had been stunned into silence, minus Hutch, who looked positively smug as he glared down at my would-be pursuer.
My pulse is fast and erratic when I slip into the office at the end of the hall. I leave the door cracked and flip the light on, pacing farther into the room. I know he’ll come after me. In fact, I’m counting on it.
Anticipation crackles in my veins when I hear his footsteps hurriedly following in this direction. The sound of muffled voices and the music in the main room have faded due to the distance of the office. I hear the creak of the ladies' room door open, the sound of it hitting the wall, then the bang of it closing again when he doesn’t find me in there. His footsteps continue, my pulse skyrocketing the closer he gets.
My skin lights up like a live wire. Goosebumps break out across my body, tightening my nipples under the thin fabric of my top. And then, he’s there, standing in the doorway, with eyes searching and hair disheveled like he’s been running his hands through it.
His broad shoulders deflate a bit when he sees me, either in relief to finally find me or in preparation for whatever he thinks I’m about to say. The ramifications of him calling me his wife in a crowded bar in front of the entire town and his family are clear. Everyone knows now, and there’s no undoing what is done. We agreed to keep this a secret, but the cat is most definitely out of the bag.
He clicks the door shut behind him and turns back to me. “Finnley, I’m—”
I shake my head once, cutting him off, and my fists clench at my sides. My heart wars with my mind: one side sets off alarm bells that this will only end with me brokenhearted and alone, but the other side has its own ideas—better ones, reckless ones that have me feeling invincible.
I launch myself at him as his eyes go wide. He stumbles back into the door, catching me against his chest. I slam my lips against his and fist the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it up. It only takes a couple of seconds beforehe reaches behind his neck and helps me pull it off. He’s caught off guard, but if there was a question in his mind about how I feel about his family knowing I’m his wife, he doesn’t voice it.
“That was so fucking hot,” I pant out, running my hands all over his chest, arms, his abs, lips plucking at his. He’s fucking beautiful.
His tongue meets mine, swipe for swipe, and a long moan rips from his chest when I tug open the button of his jeans and rip down his zipper. Frantically, I shove at his open pants, nails scraping his skin. As he kisses me deeply, I tug his hand and pull him over to the desk, our tongues never breaking contact.
“Yeah?” he rasps out against my mouth, going where I pull him. “You’re not mad?”
I shake my head, hating any space talking puts between our mouths. And knowing that, the more we talk, the longer it’ll take to have him buried inside me.
“No,” I say, biting and tugging his bottom lip with my teeth. “I love being yours and I love everyone knowing that I am.”
“God, me too,” he groans, plunging his tongue back into my mouth.
Feeling blindingly behind me, the backs of my thighs hit the desk. I shove everything off the surface with one hand, while jerking open the button and zipper on my jeans with the other.
He tears my crop top off over my head, then pushes me down onto the desk with one hand on my shoulder. His other hand pushes down one side of my jeans while I work on the other side. He rips them off and tosses them over his shoulder, then grabs my panties, working those over my hips, too. He leaves them dangling off my ankle—filthy evidence that he can’t bear to wait—and pulls out his cock, fisting it at my entrance.
