Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
I blinked. “Illinois.”
“I’ve heard Chicago is great.”
“Southern Illinois.”
“I’m not sure what the difference is.”
I laughed a little as I dug my fingers into the muscle running from my neck to my shoulder, trying to work out the tension. “You’d figure it out real fast.”
“Here, let me.”
I didn’t have time to react before Finn reached out and pressed his hands to my shoulders, thumbs kneading into the muscle. There was no time for me to be shocked at him offering, no chance for my body to buzz to life once he touched me. One second, it was my hand massaging my neck, and the next, it was his.
I melted.
I was so tense, so sore, so fucking exhausted that just that minor touch from another human had me sighing. My eyes fluttered shut for half a second, body going as limp as it could while still keeping me upright. The stress of the last few days turned to liquid under his touch, rolling off me like a slow-trickling waterfall with each careful roll of his thumbs.
“Mmm,” I exhaled, my body leaning into him without my cue. “God, I forgot how good you are at this. Remember the first time you massaged my feet after that charter where the guests demanded an all-night dance party?”
I let my head drop back against the wall, groaning as Finn digs his thumbs into the arch of my left foot. “Fuck, Finn. That feels so good.”
He swallows, nostrils flaring, his eyes lifting to mine.
“I’d like to hear you say those words when we’re both wearing less clothing.”
“Dirty,” I tease with a smile.
“Like your feet.”
Then he tickles me as I squeal and laugh, trying and failing to wriggle out of his grasp. Soon, I stop trying. Soon, I pull him into me, instead — hands fisted in his shirt and tugging him in until he’s on top of me, until our laughs turn to kisses, until I feel him harden between my thighs.
I blinked out of the memory, peeking over my shoulder. I expected to find Finn smirking at the memory, too, but his gaze was focused on the back of my neck.
“This one is new,” he mused, thumb gliding over where I knew delicate black ink stretched over my skin.
It was a tiny northern lapwing bird.
The bird of Ireland.
My chest strained with the effort to breathe properly because I had no idea what to say. Finn was well aware that I used piercings and micro tattoos as a way to sort through or, sometimes, avoid pesky emotions. It was another thing about me I was sure my father didn’t love.
But I didn’t want to admit out loud what I knew Finn had just figured out.
That one was for him.
One of the guests let out a peal of high-pitched laughter as a wave soaked her up to her chest, and Finn and I both snapped our gazes to the sound.
That’s when we saw the camera duo that was sent to the beach with us.
Their lenses were pointed right at where we stood.
My stomach lurched, and Finn hastily removed his hands, quickly busying himself with cleaning the grill while I awkwardly cleared my throat and pulled my ponytail behind my shoulder again, as if it could hide the tattoo I’d nearly forgotten was there. Needing to move, I pretended like there was still packing up to do, opening and closing coolers like an idiot.
When neither of us had anything left to fake it with, Finn sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know it’s not my job to do it, but… I want to apologize for Gisella. Safe to assume she hasn’t been the saving grace you expected when Leah went down.”
I was surprised by his acknowledgement of the situation, my eyebrows creeping up into my hairline as I folded my arms over my chest, eyes on the guests in the water. I was also relieved that we were moving on from the tattoo, that my body was cooling a bit now that his hands were no longer on my shoulders.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Hopefully Leah will be good as new in the morning. I will admit… I was hoping for the version of Gisella that we had the first charter. Not sure what happened in between.”
He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “She… doesn’t really take anything too seriously.”
“I’ve noticed.”
We shared a smile, the tension from before floating away on the soft breeze. I relaxed a little, enough so that I finally asked what I’d been wondering since that first crew meeting.
“How long have you been with her?”
Finn’s throat bobbed. “It’s pretty new. Just a few months.”
Even though I’d asked, the answer didn’t bring me any sort of relief. I stared out at the horizon, letting the sound of the waves fill the space between us, wondering how serious a few months could really be.