Driving to You (H1.5) (4 page)

Chapter
Six

“I didn’t trick you into having sex, April.” Finn rubbed the back of his neck and groaned.
“Why won’t you listen to reason?” They had been arguing for twenty minutes now and he was no closer to changing her opinion of him. Hell, he hadn’t even had a chance to try to change her mind.

She picked up a decorative pillow from the floor and placed it on the bed. “You used my raging pregnancy hormones against me, with your tight shirt and abs…and other things.”
She tied the sash on her robe tighter and flicked her eyes over him.

He stood there, straight from her shower, wearing nothing but a towel. Grinning, he said, “Thos
e raging pregnancy hormones bothering you, babe? I could help you out again.”

“You need serious
psychological help.” She stomped to her closet.

He followed her, then leaned against the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. “In all seriousness, we need to talk. I’ll go first.” Her jaw turned mutinous and he uncrossed one arm to hold up a finger. “Wouldn’t you rather us be on good terms, for the sake of our baby.”

That mutinous jaw softened and she nodded. “Go on.”

“I was hired by your father, to watch over and keep tabs on you. However, it wasn’t my plan to sleep with you.”

“So, it was my fault, then?”

He straightened and took a step closer. “No. It was mine. I never get involved with clients or with anyone in their family.”

Raising a hand in the air, she waved a finger around. “Yay for being special.”

“Look, I wanted to tell you, but I was confident that you’d leave if I did…and I couldn’t risk that, at the time anyway.”

“Because it would have been extra hard to keep tabs on me once I got your tail fired? Bless your heart, Finn.”

Closing his eyes, he counted to fifty and prayed for patience. He deserved this. He
had screwed up and had lied to her. She was the victim, no matter how tart her tongue.

“Are you done talking now, because I have things to do
that don’t involve you.”

“Time for your weekly mani/pedi, babe?” he asked, eyes opening. That’s what she usually did on Tuesdays. He knew her entire schedule, down to the hour. He wondered if she had any idea that she was so habitual. If someone ever did plot to kidnap her, they’d have no problem at all.

“No.” Her gaze skittered away. “Car stuff.”

“But it’s not Friday.
” He frowned. “You always get your car detailed on Fridays.”

“Would you stop reminding me of how my dad paid you to stalk me?”

“Protect you,” he corrected.

“You’re splitting hairs.” She hung up her robe and got dressed, slipping into a pair of brown trousers and a pale pink fluffy sweater.
Next were animal print flats. “Now get dressed and leave.”

“That’s it. You’re not willing to give me another chance?”

“I’m willing to let you have visitation with our child. That should be enough.”

“You’re not getting it, me…this.” He shifted his weigh from one leg to the other. “I want you and the baby. It’s a package deal now.”

“How romantic. Is that how you charm all the girls out of their panties, big talk of your package?”

“My big package seemed to impress you all right.”

“God, you’re so crass.” She brushed past him. “I expect you to be gone before I get back.”

There was no way he could leave her, no matter what she said
or how she tried to insult him. Four months of dating her had seen to that. He was immune to her barbs and he’d cracked the code to April-speak. “Sorry, babe, I’m in it for the long haul.”

***

The last thing April expected to be in her driveway was a moving van, but there it was, blocking her. The house beside hers had been for sale, until yesterday when a sold sign suddenly appeared, so maybe the moving company had made a mistake.

She gently tapped on the horn of her new minivan. “Minivan,” she whimpered. She had always loathed minivans, stuffed full with kids, toys and DVDs. And now she owned one.

But she couldn’t feel sorry for herself. It was paid for, with enough money left over from selling her pretty little BMW to the dealership, to pay for insurance and gas for a long, long time. Besides, NoDa was entirely walkable. She should be proud for making such a sacrifice. Still her BMW had been so sleek and fast and cute and…not a minivan!

Finn walked around to the back,
bag of chips in his hand. His eyes widened in disbelief.

Great.
Now she wanted to slump down in her seat and hide. Instead she rolled down the window and asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Moving,” he said, popping a chip in his mouth.

“Into my house?” She shook her head, hair flying everywhere. “No, uh-uh, no way. Not happening.”

“Settle down, preggo, I’m moving next door. Figured you wouldn’t mind your new neighbor borrowing your driveway for a couple of hours.”

She impersonated a fish gasping for air for several long seconds while he calmly ate chip after chip, then her brain kicked into gear. Finn had moved here, beside her. To be with her and the baby.

A ribbon of warmth wove around her and she wanted to cry in happiness. Stupid hormones.
“How long?”

“Thirty minutes, give or take a few. Why don’t you leave this here and I’ll move it when the guys are done,” he offered.

Well, she was tired. Actually, she was exhausted and wanted to do nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for the next hundred years. “Fine. Don’t scratch the paint job when you do.”

Grinning as he opened the door for her, she turned up her nose at his hand and quickly made her way to her house. “I’m digging the new ride, babe.
You make anything look good.”

“Whatever
,” she tossed over her shoulder. Secretly, she was pleased with his compliments and the look of admiration in his eyes. Call her shallow, but after years of second guessing every decision she made, it was nice to have immediate support.

Once inside, she threw her purse on the couch, her shoes in the closet, peeled off her clothes and tumbled into bed.
In what seemed like seconds later, she was waking up to Finn calling her name.

“I’m sleeping,” she grumbled, burying herself more deeply in the covers. His heavy footsteps sounded and she frowned. That damn man forgot to take off his shoes.

A large hand stroked her head gently. “It’s almost six in the evening. You need to eat.”

“I need to sleep,” she argued, then her stomach growled.

He laughed. “I brought you dinner.”

That made her perk up and sit up, putting her bare breasts on display. Gasping
, she covered them from his very intense stare, then glared at him. “Stop ogling me.”

“How about I feed you instead?” He turned, bringing
a tray with little legs that fit perfectly over her lap. “Some soup, fresh bread and a little dessert—strawberry ice cream—if you’re up to it.”

The aroma of chicken noodle soup washed over her and suddenly
, she was ravenous. She ate the entire bowl of soup, all the bread and half the dessert before she realized that he was still sitting beside her, not speaking or eating. “Want some,” she said around a mouthful of ice cream. A couple of cold drops fell to her chest and she shivered.

“Oh
, yeah.” His blue eyes flicked to her chest, staring at the tops of her breasts. 

She put down the spoon. “Get this off of me first.”

He dipped his head and she leaned back, allowing him to lick the ice cream off of her. His tongue was soft against her skin. The covers dropped to her waist and she felt his finger, cold and wet, circle a nipple. Then his hot mouth opened over it and he began to suck, in hard tugs that she could feel between her thighs. The more he sucked, the wetter she got.

Over and over he painted her nipples with ice cream, until she was shaking with need. Desperate to have him.
One of his hands found her thigh, the other moving the tray to the floor. Higher and higher his fingers climbed, until he sank two deep inside of her.

Then he kissed her, sinking his tongue in her mouth in the same lazy glide as his fingers. “Come on my fingers, sweetheart
,” he whispered against her lips.

She moaned in response and widened her thighs, sending him deeper. He shifted, his head going to her lap. The stroke of his tongue had her crying out. Sweet torture.  She watched as his head moved
, his dark hair soft against the inner skin of thighs. Another lick and she jerked her hips. His fingers curled at the exact moment he sucked hard on her clit.

A scream tore from her throat and she dug her fingers into his hair, gripping the strands tightly.  When she came back to her earth, Finn was kissing his way up her thigh, her stomach,
and nipped at each nipple until his mouth found hers once more.

“Let me,” –her hands went to the fly of his pants and he stood up, beside the bed—“return the favor.” She quickly unbuttoned them and pulled out his very large cock, then she wrapped her mouth
around the head.

She licked and sucked, taking him to the back of her throat again and again, until his hand fisted in her hair and he directed the pace. “
Love watching you like this. Oh yeah, right there…just like that. Suck it.” His hips moved faster and faster and she kept right up with him. “Stop,” he suddenly growled, slowly but surely extricating himself from her mouth and hand. “I didn’t come—”

“You would have, if you’d let me finish,” April said, confused.

He turned around, the sound of his zipper going up loud in her bedroom. Muttering a few curse words, he turned to face her again. “I didn’t come over for sex, of any kind. I wanted to do something nice, not—” He grabbed the tray and left the room. She heard him rummaging around in her kitchen, then the front door slammed.

April sat there, stunned. What had just happened?

***

The next morning, April found Finn in her backyard, repairing the gargantuan swing set/tree house/fort/slide combo.

“Good morning,” she said softly, coming to stand by him. He worked at the chains on the swings, covering the metal with a protective plastic covering.

“Speaking to me, are you?”

She sighed. “I wasn’t the one who left.”

The sun shone in his eyes and he squinted at her. “But you were the one who wouldn’t answer my texts last night.”

Her cheeks heated. “My phone’s not working.”

“Since when?”

Since the governor had kept his promise of cutting her off. She had forgotten his office paid for the service plan. He’d also cancelled her credit cards and closed her checking account. Well, the one that was in both of their names. However, a few years back, she had gotten a wild hair and had decided to start putting money away in one of the local banks in Charlotte.

Thank God for wild hairs
, she silently mused.  “Right after you left.”

He went back to work on the swings. “Convenient.”

More like humiliating. “Sorry,” she said and his attention snapped to her.

“Don’t say that.” He let go of the chain and placed his hands
low on his hips, still squinting from the sun. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I messed up. I lied to you and I’m sorry. Jesus, I can’t say it enough to make
myself
feel better. For what it’s worth, I leased my apartment in Uptown, bought the house beside you and signed up for partner-parenting classes at the community center. My last name is Kennedy, Burke’s my middle name and I own Kennedy Investigations, but I don’t advertise it, since I like to actually take on jobs.” He came to her then, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m sorry, April. And I want to make it up to you. To our baby. I’ll never lie to you again. Ask me anything.”

She couldn’t move as he held her and not because she was imprisoned by his arms. Oh no. She was imprisoned by his words, by his actions…
by the thought of him trying and doing.

Taking a chance she asked,
“Why don’t you come inside and let me fix you some iced tea?”

***

Over the weeks that followed, it seemed that all Finn did was try to earn her trust back. He’d check on her, fix things that need it, cooked her dinner and accompanied her to doctor visits. All done in such a way that never made her feel crowded or uncomfortable

He never insisted, always asked
, and the walls surrounding her poor heart got weaker every day. Only she wasn’t sure if he was doing this to be with her, with the baby or a sense of duty to family.

If only she knew his feelings. If only she was woman enough to ask him.

Things were growing worse with her dad. She had refused to take any call from him, ignored his emails and his letters. She didn’t care what he threatened. There was no way she would go back to her old life or her old self.