Page 43 of Dark Night Golden Dawn
She lifted her face, parting her lips, pleased with the way his eyes tracked even the smallest of her movements. “I think about the way it felt to have you so deep inside me I forgot we were two people.”
“You really are trying to kill me,” he murmured, his voice rough.
“And I think about how you pushed my wet hair from my face and moved in me, so gentle and slow… You told me you loved me. Do you remember that?”
He nodded, his thumb drifting to her face, grazing her bottom lip, as the fingers that had pressed into her hip strayed to the small of her back, pulling her so close she could feel his desire for her stirring. He was going to kiss her. What’s worse, she wanted him to. Her lips ached to feel his.
Her wounded heart spoke before her mutinous body could act. “You fucked me, told me you loved me, and then you acted like nothing happened between us.” The words fell from her lips in a honeyed tone that did nothing to mask the anger burning in her chest. The cameras on the balcony wouldn’t catch that, but he would.
She felt the flinch he didn’t show as she stepped even closer, her breasts pressing hard into his chest. “Remember that, McKay. Remember that you broke me into a million pieces. Remember that you let that vicious princess Petra Velarius make my life a living hell for a year. Remember that I canneverfully trust you.”
“I know,” he said, breathless. “Believe me. I know.”
She looked at him now, really looked. His storm-grey eyes were dark with some version of sadness, maybe grief. A kernel of guilt burrowed into her heart. She’d actually hurt him, which for some reason, she hadn’t expected. Just like she hadn’t expected for this moment to feel so terrible. For years after what happened between them, she’d imagined working him up the way she had just now, only to decimate him, destroy him the way he’d destroyed her.
But this didn’t feel good. She didn’t feel like she’d won anything. In fact, she had the distinct feeling that she’d lost something that had become very precious to her in recent months—her self-respect. This wasn’t how she treated people. This was howMarktreated people. Harlow recoiled from the thought, horrified. She started to say she was sorry, but couldn’t form the vulnerable words, much as she wanted to.
“We should go,” she said, softening her tone in lieu of an apology. “If they think we’re leaving together it will be on everyone’s socials in minutes. That’s what we want, right?”
He cleared his throat and she wondered if he could hear the unspoken apology she’d wanted to voice. “If they think I took you home, they’ll call you all sorts of terrible things and no one will take this seriously.”
Godsdamn him, he was right. She imagined Indigo and Meline rolling their eyes at her lack of foresight. Harlow sighed. “I shouldn’t have said all that.”
His hand was still on the small of her back, though his arm had tensed significantly. Now, it relaxed a measure and she stepped back a little, but not so far away that his hand would be dislodged.
His head dipped and he wore a contrite expression. “I probably shouldn’t have moved things forward so quickly. I don’t know how to do this with you. It feels good, and then bad… We should talk about what happened between us.”
Her heart skipped a terrifying beat. “Not here, not tonight.”
He shook his head. “No. On Solon Mai though, all right? After the ball.”
She nodded, glancing at the balcony to the upper bar. The music had changed, thank Aphora, though the White Oak was apparently playing nostalgic favorites tonight. A different bartender than before asked if they wanted anything else.
Finn shook his head. “Can I get my check?”
“What are you doing?” she whispered. “I thought leaving was a bad idea.”
“Follow along, please.”
She raised her eyebrows, suspicious.
“You can choose not to trust me. I deserve that. But please, just follow along.”
She watched while he left an enormous tip and signed his name, taking his card back and putting it in his wallet. Then he took her hand, kissing her palm. His lips were warm and soft against her skin and the kiss was slow and sweet as his eyes met hers.
“They’ll follow,” he murmured, as he leaned close enough for his lips to brush the shell of her ear. “Now laugh and nod, like I just asked you to do something fun.”
She did as he asked and he led her out of the bar, still holding her hand. Sure enough, the photographers scrambled to follow. “They’ll catch up,” he said when they reached the sidewalk.
His eye met hers as his fingers laced tighter through her own. The heat coiled in her belly slithered with pleasure, loosening again, sending warmth lapping across the sweetest aching spots. She tore her eyes from his, asking, “Where are we going?”
His mouth lifted in that rare, signature Finbar McKay smile that girls in secondary had claimed dropped panties in an instant. The memory brought her attention to her own undergarments, which were decidedly damp from their encounter inside the bar, to her horror. His voice was smooth, gloriously honeyed with some unknown pleasure. “You’ll see.”
They walked down the street, still holding hands. In this area, there were bars and restaurants everywhere. Fancy places she didn’t usually go. Places the Times reviewed constantly, on repeat, like there wasn’t other food in the city. When Finn stopped, it wasn’t in front of any of those places. It was in front of a human street vendor.
“Finn McKay,” the man said with a smile. He was middle-aged, with pale skin, red hair, and fantastic dimples. “What’ll it be for you and the goddess tonight?”
Finn grinned. “Hey, Brennan. Can we get two giant waffle cones, with vanilla bean ice cream and chocolate sprinkles?”
