Drawn to you (8 page)

I want to punch him in the nose but my stomach growls so I slowly lower myself into a chair and let Gaby go at him while I eagerly await the taco feast
.

“I’m sick of this, Finlay!” Gaby shouts. “You’re not my dad! Stop being an over protective ass! I like Mike and he likes me, so get over it.”

Finlay’s jaw tightens and the dark green in his eyes darkens when he’s riled up. He stands, resting both hands on the table and leaning slightly forward in her direction.

“No, I’m not Dad, but we’re all we’ve got now, Gaby. I’ll always look out for you, so quit fucking my friends like some cheap whore.”

A gasp escapes my lips.

“Fuck you!” Gaby sobs. “We have Mom! What the hell is your problem? She said you haven’t spoken to her for weeks. Do know how hurt she is? I’ve had enough of your shit, Fin. I’m moving in with Antonia when her place is ready. You can stay here or go to hell for all I care.”

She storms out, slamming the front door behind her. I can’t move and I have no idea what to do. Finlay storms into his room and comes back out a few seconds later with a bag. Grabbing his cell and keys, he also leaves without saying anything. I’m left sitting in their apartment, not knowing if or when they’ll come back. My appetite has completely gone so I clear the table and wrap the food up. My phone chirps twenty minutes later with a text message.

I’m soz, Antonia. I’m stayin at Moms tonite. Luvya, Gabs xxx

I shoot back a quick reply.

No probs, c u tomorrow x

The apartment is silent. I don’t know if Finlay will be coming back but I need to get out of here for a change of scenery. Grabbing the keys to my new apartment and a pad and pen, I go see how it’s coming along and write a list of anything I might need for when I move in.

I TURN THE KEY
, unlocking the oak front door. I flick the switch to turn on the lights. All the walls are painted cream; a blank canvas for me to add my favorite art to. The bathroom is still being worked on so there is no bath or shower yet but that’s the last room to be finished. Dust lingers on every surface, kicking up with my footsteps. The kitchen is as nice as Gaby’s, including all the mod cons. The living room is slightly bigger and there’s sheeting down to protect the floor. Some furniture has arrived and is wrapped. My new piano sits in the corner of the living space; Mom’s house warming present to me. She insists I play as often as possible.

I stroke my fingers over the keys, letting them tempt me. I haven’t played since I got here, so once I start playing I get lost in the keys and lyrics flow out of me.

Young love can burn bright,

But darkness stole me and its grip still holds me tight,

I’m drowning, sinking deeper,

I’m searching for a flicker of light

I’m bleeding out, gasping, bleeding out fast,

My life ended there, that breath was my last.

Love falters, rots and decays,

You didn’t want me broken, you didn’t ask me to stay

You say you still care, but you left me there dying, left me there bare

I’m bleeding out, gasping, bleeding out fast,

My life ended there, that breath was my last.

I’m so lost in the music, I don’t notice Finlay walk in, and I jump when I see movement behind me.

“Crap, you scared me! You should wear a bell around your neck. You’re like a ninja.”

His gaze fixes on me; he looks strained, his posture tight, and I can smell alcohol pouring from him with every outtake of breath.

“I can’t believe that was you,” he mutters.

Not understanding what he means, I furrow my brow and shake my head.

“The music, Antonia. Your voice. I came in here because I thought the workmen had left a CD playing. You’re amazing.”

I offer him a smile as thanks; I’m too embarrassed to talk and he looks all kinds of lost. The argument with Gaby really seems to have taken its toll on him.

“Are you okay?” I pat the space next to me on the piano bench for him to sit down.

Finlay all but collapses next to me, his head dropping into his hands. Where is the put together, dominant man now? He’s almost vulnerable and it’s painful to see him this way.

I put my arm around him, pulling his head towards my chest. My stomach drops when he folds so easily into me. His body shakes, making my heart splinter. His arms tighten around my waist and he weeps in my arms like a little boy.

I can’t believe this is the same Finlay who took over a multimillion-dollar company after his dad died.

The Finlay who was so confident in seducing me during our sexual encounters.

Now, here he is, crying into my chest, taking comfort in me stroking his head.

I’m seeing a side of him no one else sees.

I just want to hold him, erase his pain, and take away all the hurt he’s let build up inside him. We stay like this until his tears stop falling and silence calms the air.

Eventually Finlay pulls from me, wiping his face. He stands and walks out, leaving me like he was never there.

I turn out the lights and lock up my apartment. When I enter Finlay’s apartment, he’s sitting on the couch in sweat pants and a t-shirt, eating taco filling from the bowl I had put in the fridge earlier.

“Fancy watching a movie?” he asks, looking up at me expectantly
.

Did I imagine what just went down with him?

I don’t want to fight anymore and I certainly don’t want to see him that fragile ever again.

“Okay. I’ll just change.”

He nods and a small smile tugs the corner of his mouth.

I quickly change into some sweats and a tee. Grabbing a big bag of chips from the supply he keeps in the kitchen, and a couple of sodas from the fridge, I join him on the couch.

“Crisp?” I offer, tilting the bag towards him.

He gives me a sideways grin. “Yeah. I’ll have a
chip,
thanks.”

“Whatever. Crisp, chip. Both fried goodness.” I grin, flinging one at him. He picks it out of his lap and tosses it into his mouth. “So what are we watching?”

“Rocky marathon,” he answers with a wolfish grin on his face.

We watch in a comfortable silence for the first part of the movie, changing positions a couple of times because being this close to him makes my insides squirm, my heart rate spike, and my body heat to unbearable degrees.

“I only live here so Gaby doesn’t feel completely alone.”

I almost stop breathing when he speaks in barely a whisper.

“Our mother doesn’t bother with her. She’s too self-centered to see how much our dad’s death affected Gaby. He worked a lot but when he was around he always had time for us. Gaby was his princess for so long, I think her growing up was hard on him.” He laughs as if remembering something.

“I know she misses him. I miss him. I don’t think our mother does.

She changed his home office into a fucking gym.

Who does that? She took down his painting; he loved that thing.

It’s weird how different things look when you’re older and you’re not seeing through the eyes of a kid anymore.

I thought they had a perfect marriage, but it’s like a movie when they shout ‘cut!.’

The actors can go back to the real them and everything I thought was real wasn’t.”

I’m not sure what he’s getting at. His parents always seemed perfect to me too, but everyone has secrets. Maybe they did too.

“I found some things in my Dad’s safe that completely changed how I see her. It feels like I lost them both.”

He moves his hand so it’s stroking the top of mine. I want to offer him comfort and let him hold my hand but when he starts fiddling with my bracelet, I begin to panic.

I’m about to pull my hand away but it’s too late. He’s staring at the scar line travelling the full length of my wrist.

I pull my arm free but his eyes pin me to my seat. Reaching out, he grabs the other wrist, moving my bracelet with his thumb and tracing the matching scar there.

Tears burn my eyes then fall to my cheeks.

I pull at my wrist to free it from his grip but he’s too strong. The lump building in my throat almost chokes me as I search his face through my blurry vision. I know what he’s thinking; he’s putting two and two together and getting eight.

“Antonia, what . . . ? Why would you do that?” he asks in a pained voice, still holding me by the wrist.

“Don’t,” I murmur. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it? Because I’m really starting to freak out now.”

“Its private, Finlay. Please don’t.”

“Don’t what? Be concerned? Did you do this to yourself, Antonia?” His tone is accusing.

“No! No, I didn’t. Finlay, don’t ask me any more questions. I didn’t do what you’re assuming.”

I’m on the verge of an uncontrollable sob and I think he can see my soul disintegrating in front of him.

He pulls me into him, crushing my body to his, holding me against the warmth of his chest.

This isn’t the reaction I expected but I welcome his touch, the comfort of his body heat, and I use the sound of his heartbeat to steady my own.

I ACHE FROM LEANING
in an awkward position all night and my bladder is screaming, desperate for the toilet. I uncurl Finlay’s arms from around me and creep out of the room into his bathroom, quickly relieving myself and washing my hands. I brush my teeth and turn on the shower. I need clothes for after and when I open the bathroom door, Finlay’s sitting on the end of the bed looking tousled from sleep. The impulse to run to him hold him again is almost physical within me. I’d witnessed him come undone and he saw me the same way. The connection and draw to him is so intense it’s almost unnatural. I can’t explain it, I just need him and he seems like he needs me too.

My legs carry me over to him and I sit between his open legs. Looking down at him I search his features for the answers to a million questions I want to ask.

His hands reach up to rest on my hips, slowly moving round to stroke over my ass.

Why does it feel so good to have his hands on me?
Because he’s freaking delicious, that’s why.

He pulls me into him, resting his head against my stomach. My hands stroke down the back of his neck. Standing and taking my hand, he leads me into the bathroom.

I stand before him, reeling with nervous energy but desperate for more of his touch. His eyes are glazed and I’m pretty sure mine mirror his lust.

He surveys me slowly up and down, taking in all of me. His tongue swipes out to dampen his bottom lip, sending a pulse of excitement through my body.

A tornado whips around inside my gut sending lightning up my spine.

I bite down on my lower lip to stop myself from panting. He reaches out to me, sliding my top over my head, the pads of his thumbs stroking over my flushed skin.

Experienced fingers unclasp my bra, dragging it away from my body; my nipples harden and ache.

He tugs on my sweats and they fall down my thighs and gather at my ankles.

I step out of them and he kicks them aside. His hands are on me, skimming down my body, brushing past the swell of my breasts, down my stomach until he reaches the top of my lace girl shorts.

He strokes over the lace before his palms slip inside at my hips, then pauses for a few seconds, gazing so deep into my eyes I can feel him inside me already.