Page 74 of Wild Flower

“Do it.”

“Fuck off, man!”

“No.” Finn squeezes even tighter. “You living—or not living—your life affects me too. It affects Becca. All of us.”

“Only because you know about it,” I grind out. “Becca is blissfully ignorant.”

Finn lets go of me abruptly like a rubber band snapping, and shoves me back by my chest. I stumble several steps and almost fall into the water. Finn glares at me with a hardness I’ve never seen in him before.

“Lying to her isn’t—” Finn starts, but then he bites his tongue and shakes his head, his whole body rigid with what he’s not saying.

The water is cold, biting at my ankles with a sting that’s almost as sharp as the pinch in my chest. Finn turns and walks back up the beach, leaving me alone in the water like an abandoned sheep. Not that I asked for saving. It’s the last thing I want.

Why can’t everyone just let this be?I’mthe one whose life will be cut short. Why does that have to be everyone else’s problem? Why can’t we just live, and fuck, and have fun? Why can’t it be as simple as that?

My feet sink into the sand, the water swirling under my heels and digging out holes to trap me. As the tide pushes and drags the ground from beneath me, I already know the answers to my questions. I just don’t want to face the truth in them.

42

FINN

The photoshoot Arie and Becca have set up at Flambé is incredible.

It’s after-hours, and the dining room has been transformed. A Victorian-style velvet couch sits at the center of the room with an installation of exotic flowers growing out of it. The sculpture Miranda and Becca made is magical: petals carpet the floor while jewel-colored blooms dangle from the chandelier and connect to the couch like a floating thunderstorm of flowers. Then scattered amongst the tempest of color are tiny gold tables adorned with sugar cocktails and exotic desserts.

Arie goes over the shot list and the order in which the food and drinks will be set on fire, telling me to come and get her when the three of us are ready. After I set up my tripods and lights, I sneak into Simon’s office to find Archer sitting in a chair, adjusting his cufflinks and wearing the classic Flambé black-on-black suit. We haven’t said much to each other since I walked out on him at the beach. I’m still pissed at him for thinking he can play with his life so cavalierly, but I’m not going to bring it up again before the shoot.

And it’s easy to get distracted, because Becca walks out from behind a privacy curtain done up in a stunning emerald dress. It’s similar to the velvet one she wore when Arie caught us, only this one is silk, draping over Becca’s gorgeous curves like a sleek, green waterfall. When you couple the gown with Becca’s silver hair and tattoos, she becomes spring incarnate: a goddess able to bring all of nature to its knees.

“Wow,” I say, sneaking up behind her and kissing her shoulder. “You’re a force of nature in that dress.” A tension in her body releases the second my hands cup her hips, and she lets out a heavy exhale as she leans against my chest.

“I’m glad it’s you who’s taking the photos,” she admits. “I don’t know how you do it, but I feel comfortable when you’re behind the lens. Like I can be myself.”

I breathe against her neck and we stand in silence for a long moment.

“You’ve spent a long time in your mother’s shadow,” Archer says from his chair. “It’s about time you were the center of attention.”

Becca laughs nervously. “I don’t think I like being the center of attention.”

“Not true,” I purr in her ear. “Whenever you’re between the two of us, you bloom.”

“That’s different,” she counters.

“Is it?” I prod, nipping the side of her throat. “You had no problem being at the center of the dance floor in a room full of people at The Orchid.” I clutch her hips possessively, my pelvis against her ass, reminding her of exactly what we did in that crowd.

A whimper escapes her lips. “You’re right,” she admits. “I liked being in the center of all that energy. But I wasn’t the center of attention. No one was watching.”

“You think we got away with it?” I ask. “You honestly think no one noticed you coming between us?” She lets out another heady moan, her nipples pebbling against the silk of her gown. Someone saw us. She knows that. There were too many people surrounding us at The Orchid for us to go completely undetected.

And that truth excites her.

“A part of you loves the thrill of being in public,” I whisper in her ear, sliding a hand up her ribs to the underside of her breast where my thumb teases the luscious curve. “Of getting caught?”

“Save it for the photoshoot!” Arie’s voice cuts into the room behind us. Becca jolts wickedly, responsive and turned on by the shock of a spectator.

“See,” I whisper in her ear as I tease her nipple. Arie is behind us and unable to see what my hand is doing, but Archer sits in the chair below us, well aware. “I won’t be in the picture,” I continue. “But this is what I’m going to be doing to you with my camera.” I trace her breast, causing her to mewl at my advance.

“Are you ready?” Archer asks, standing up and taking her hand. Becca nods, her skin smelling of misted sweat, and I slide my hand to her back, kneading my fingers into her tension.

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