Slow Burn Cowboy(22)

The words hit her like a slap, and her cheeks stung. “I know. That’s a stupid thing to say. Of course I know that.”

“I’m not your boyfriend. I’m not even your dial-a-dick. But you treat me like one. In every way except for the benefits.”

His words punched straight through her chest, grabbing her heart and twisting it. “That’s not fair.” She couldn’t quite articulate why it wasn’t, just that it wasn’t.

“Isn’t it? You don’t treat me like you treat your other friends.”

“I know. Because you are a man. Do you honestly think I’m blind to that?” It was poorly phrased, because in many ways, until recently, she had been blind to it. She had known, in an abstract sense, but she hadn’t spent a lot of time dwelling on it. On purpose.

That time he and Rebecca had almost hooked up, it had forced her mind to go there and she had found it completely unsettling. She’d been angry, nearly sick over it, and she hated herself for it. To want to keep her single friends—who had no obligation to her—from being with each other if they wanted to be seemed churlish and petty.

But she hadn’t wanted Finn’s time occupied by another woman.

That realization made her mouth drop open. She didn’t want him occupied by another woman, because she wanted him on hand for her. And that made what he was saying sound a lot like their whole arrangement wasn’t fair. A lot like she was, in fact, using him as a boyfriend without giving him any of the benefits of being one.

It was uncomfortable, and she didn’t like it. It made her feel like she was the one being hunted, not the mouse. Like she had been backed into a corner and had no other choice but to fight back.

So, she did.

She shoved at his shoulder. The equal and opposite reaction to the ill-advised placating touch, she supposed. “This is a stupid fight,” she said.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. It is a stupid fight because you want me to cook you dinner. You like it. You want me to ask about how you’re doing, how you’re feeling, because none of the guys that you hang out with will. You get something out of that. And yes, I want you to come trap my pests and change my lightbulbs, but you like doing it. And you’ve never given any indication that you didn’t. That it wasn’t what you wanted. Don’t come in here and complain to me now and say it’s not fair just because you’re mad about your family. Just because you want to punch something.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know. You’re mad, and you don’t know who to lash out at, so you’re lashing out at me. You’re using our friendship as a punching bag. Complaining about stuff that doesn’t even bother you so that you can deal with...all of this,” she said, sweeping her hand in an up-and-down motion. “Complaining about not getting something you don’t even want.”

Those words hit hard between them, and settled there. And Finn just looked at her for a moment, all rage and hard glitter in his blue eyes.

Before she knew it, he moved, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her up against his chest. She was on fire. Everywhere. From breast to toe. He had never touched her like this before. Had never held her in his arms. Hugs were different. Quick greetings. Goodbyes. She hadn’t been held by him then. Hadn’t been pressed against him. Soft against hard.

Her first instinct was to struggle, like a cat that was being forced into a bath. Except she wasn’t struggling. She was frozen. She couldn’t move. And she didn’t. Not even when he lowered his head.

When his lips touched hers, the world ignited. A bright white light that was something like an explosion. But whether it was happening in the store, or just in her, she didn’t know.

It was destructive. Ripping through her and breaking down walls that were essential to her life. To her very survival.

He raised one hand, cupping the back of her head, holding her up against him as he changed the angle of the kiss, taking it deeper.

In spite of herself, she shivered. Arched more deeply into him and just let him kiss her. Let him slide his tongue over hers, let him devour her mouth like he was a starving man and she was the only thing that would give him sustenance to go on.

Her heart was raging in her chest like a trapped bird in a cage, fighting to get out, and her knees were gone. Just completely gone. And if not for his strong arm locked around her waist, she would have fallen to the ground in an undignified heap.

Her eyes were closed, but her lids trembled, fighting against the urge to look. To see what it was like to watch Finn Donnelly kiss. Of course, the other half of her, fighting just as hard, wanted to close out the reality that she was being kissed by him. Wanted to pretend the kiss wasn’t happening. Or if it was, that it wasn’t him doing the kissing.

Her hands were trapped against his chest, and she found herself curling her fingers around his T-shirt, holding great handfuls of it as she looked for something else to brace her.

There was a storm raging. All around. Inside. The nuclear fallout of the strike that had just been detonated in the center of the two of them. But she didn’t know what else to do but hold on to him. Even as her brain was screaming for her to make it stop, her body wanted more. Beyond that, it was natural to hold on to Finn. When things felt like they’d been upended, he was always the one she went to. Her support. Her everything.

That made her feel like she was being torn in two. The need to stop the madness, to put things back to rights, to start reclaiming the debris that had fallen all around them, warred with those other desires. Deeper, darker and long suppressed.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was rough. It was destructive. And certainly not by accident.

And when she returned it, she injected her own anger into it, as well. For all of this confusion. Not just the confusion he had caused. With his anger, with his kiss. But the confusion caused by the demons in her past that were tearing at her, taking chunks off her, piece by piece, one shred of sanity at a time.

Then he growled. A deep, feral sound that rumbled in his chest, echoed through her. And it was unmistakably, undeniably Finn.

That was what did it.

Finn. Finn was kissing her. She was kissing him back.

She released her hold on his shirt, planting both palms on his chest and pushing backward, nearly sending them both down to the ground as she separated their mouths. Harshly, roughly.

“What,” she said, her voice low and shaking, “are you doing?”

“You said I didn’t want it. I figured I would show you differently.”

Something inside of her crumbled. Fell. “How... How dare you?” She took a step back toward him. “How could you do that? You’re my friend. We just talked about this. Why it’s important. Why would you do that?” She felt tears stinging her eyes. She was disgusted with herself. For being so weak, for being so affected. If she had been able to just go on like nothing had happened, maybe the kiss wouldn’t feel so important. Maybe things really could just go back to normal.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened. And she couldn’t pretend to be okay. Not when she had been shaken to her core. Not when that big, promised Pacific Northwest earthquake had just happened. Inside of her own body.

“We don’t do this,” she said. “For a reason.”

“Is that your story?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “I can kiss any guy, Finn. But you are you. You’re you and our friendship is important to me. And I can’t deal with this right now.”

“I can’t deal with not doing it,” he said, his voice like gravel. “I have too much going on to practice self-control with you.”

She couldn’t process what he was saying, and more than that, she didn’t want to. She needed all of this turmoil to just go away. She needed to be able to open her eyes and find herself at home, in bed, alone. The events of the past few minutes having been some kind of weird twist of her subconscious, a response to all of the stress that was happening inside her.

“I don’t need this right now,” she said. “My life is complicated enough.”

“Oh, why? Because the idea of subscription boxes is just so daunting? My grandfather is dead, and my brothers have taken over my home and my life like they have a right. So don’t talk to me about your boutique angst.”

He had no idea. And she didn’t want him to have an idea. Didn’t want to spill her guts to him about her tragic past and how it was being shoved in her face.

But she couldn’t handle him being condescending either. Not when she felt so raw.

“Get out,” she said, her voice shaking. “I mean it.”

He took a step back. “Don’t you need me to kill the mouse?”

“I feel safer with that mouse than I feel with you right now. I’m going to name the mouse. The mouse is my new best friend. Until such time as you get your head out of your ass.” She extended a shaking finger, feeling overly dramatic and ridiculous, but unable to stop herself. “Get. Out.”

He nodded once, his mouth pressed into a flat line, his jaw set, and then he turned away from her, leaving before she had a chance to ask again. And for all her rage and bluster, she had kind of hoped she would have to ask again. That he would insist they talk. That he would stay. That he would try to help her clean up this mess, this debris that had been left behind by the kiss that she had never wanted to consider might happen.