Page 66 of Wild Flower

36

FINN

The Orchid club is packed.

The dance floor is filled with pink smoke and bodies undulating, a strobe of lights flashing with the music. There’s a musky scent of sweat, and the beat is so loud I can feel it pounding through my chest with the fervor of a steam engine.

I scan the crowd for Becca’s silver hair, which would look multi-colored or blond in the flashing pump of disco lights. Eventually, I find her and Archer at the bar, drinking shots. Becca’s in a cute goth dress and is definitely buzzed as she hands me one of the beverages. It’s sweet and lemony, burning down my throat as I toss it back.

“I hear we’re being reckless,” I say, referencing their phone call and nodding to the line of shots Becca’s working her way through.

“Bad day,” Becca grumbles.

“The morning was good,” I note, reminding her that the day began with the three of us in the same bed.

“Not you,” Becca replies, pushing off the bar stool and wrapping her arms around me, her hips swaying to the music. “When I’m with the two of you, everything feels perfect. It’s the rest of my life that’s maddening.”

“Because …?”

“I met her sister and parents tonight,” Archer shares, as Becca rakes her teeth along the side of my neck. “And they’re all flaming piles of horse shit.”

“That can’t be true,” I counter, turning to look at Becca. “They’re your family.”

“Exactly.” Becca points at me. “That’s my problem. I keep forgiving all their crap because they’re my blood. I’m sick of it!”

I search Archer for an explanation and he hands us the rest of the shots—two each.

“Remember the piece of work her mom was at the photoshoot?” he asks, throwing back one of his shots. I nod. “Now multiply it.” He downs the second. “We’re not here for therapy, Finn. Becca needs to dance and forget. Feel good. Now drink up.”

“Here’s to being reckless!” Becca agrees, drinking her shots in fast succession.

“No time like the present.” Archer leads Becca toward the dance floor and nods for me to join them. I don’t love the idea of get-drunk-and-forget, but if this is what Becca needs right now, I’ll trust it. I drink my shots and follow suit.

Hands and bodies bump and grind as we head into the crowd, but I’m mesmerized by the way Becca moves. Her body is fluid and twirling in the center of the dance floor, blending flawlessly into the music. She gets lost in it, ending up writhing against Archer with her arms hooked at his neck.

Boom. Boom. Boom. The bass echoes through the club, punctuating every sway of her hips, her short dress riding up from the crush of people dancing around them. I press through the crowd and move in behind her, grabbing her hips and smothering her between me and Archer. She moans as I push her hair aside and my mouth finds her neck, worshiping the orchids that bloom over her flesh.

“Mmmmm, the things I want to do to you, Wild Flower,” I growl, finding the rhythm of the music as my hands explore. And before I know it, she’s dragging her ass over my crotch and making me throb. Devil Flower! She arches, wrapping an arm around my neck and leaning her head against my shoulder as she nuzzles my chin.

“Will you be naughty for me tonight, Finn?” she asks, her body pulsing to the music and writhing with fire. “I was so turned on when you touched me at Flambé—in public.”

My eyes flash to Archer. We’re beingthat kindof reckless?

He smiles, running a hand up the front of her dress to her neck. Becca moans against my chin as Archer plucks the top buttons of her dress open, stopping just below her chest to drop his mouth to the tattoo that slinks beneath her bra. It’s dark and packed, and all the bodies and couples around us are twisting and making out with the same grind to the music. No one’s paying attention to Archer’s mouth on her ink—no one but me, who’s getting hard watching.

Becca digs her nails into my neck as Archer teases, moaning hotly when his tongue searches for her nipple. Suddenly, my hands are gripping her hips and grinding her ass over my thickness, swelling with the music’s brutal rhythm.

“I want you both,” she confesses, disengaging from us and turning around. She steps into my personal space and kisses me, the pressure of Archer behind her intensifying everything. She’s hungry and frantic, straddling one of my thighs and riding it—her desperate fingers clutching my collar.

She’s ravenous, her pelvis dragging across my leg. I lift my knee to give her more pressure and she grinds against my thigh, moaning into my mouth savagely. “Finn,” she whimpers.

“Does that feel good, gorgeous?” Archer asks behind her, and she shudders, dropping her mouth to my shoulder and biting hotly as her hips dry hump my thigh. The unmistakable truth is—she’s wet. I can feel her heat soaking into my jeans.

“What did you do to her?” I ask, catching Archer’s eye and nodding to how needy she is.

“That’s all her,” Archer replies. “Our Wild Flower thrives in the humid Hawaiian heat.”

Archer drops his hands to Becca’s ass and grinds her against my leg. She gasps against my shoulder, her arousal blossoming.

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