Out of Time (Out of Line #2) (Volume 2) Read online

  He stood there because I’d asked him to.

  I ran my hands over his chest, then up over his shoulders. Just touching him made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world, and I wanted to do everything to him. Everything in the romance books I read at night, and then more. Even though my mother had never figured it out, I used to sneak them out of her library after she was finished with them. I’d started it in sixth grade. Now I bought them with my own money.

  And I had a lot of ideas stored away in my mind that I wanted to try out on Finn.

  I climbed off the bed and rose on tiptoes, kissing him. His tongue rubbed against mine, making my stomach clench. When I slid my hands down over his pecs and abs and then up under his shirt, he groaned into my mouth. My nails scraped his skin, and I pulled back long enough to pull his shirt over his head.

  I stood back and looked at him, his gaze burning into mine as I did so. His dark ink swirled up his arms and over his biceps before it crept over his shoulders and chest. I never got sick of looking at his tattoos. I loved deciphering them and admiring how they intertwined with perfection.

  He looked the part of the stereotypical bad boy…when he was anything but.

  He was a contradiction at its hottest. I ran my tongue over the black tattoo that swirled over his left pec, grinning when he hissed and gripped my hips. After I nipped at the skin, I pulled back enough to say, “New rule, love. You aren’t allowed to wear shirts around me anymore.”

  “Ever?”

  “Ever.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “It might take some explaining when we go back to D.C., but I bet I can make it work.”

  “I bet you could, too.”

  I stepped closer, my leg between his, and tipped my head back to look up at him. His blue eyes shined down at me, and his light brown curls stuck up a bit, probably because I’d run my fingers through them a few times.

  His hands still gripped my hips, and they flexed on me. “Ginger…” he said, his tone strained and raspy. The way he sounded, all turned on and needy, washed over me and landed somewhere in my stomach, twisting and turning into a knot. “I’m going to—”

  “I know,” I said, smiling up at him. “Believe me, I know.”

  I dropped to my knees and undid the button of his pants. As I unzipped his jeans, he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, letting me work as slowly as I wanted. It might be torture for him, but I knew he’d let me do whatever the hell I wanted, even if it killed him.

  When I pulled down his jeans and let them fall to his feet, he kicked out of them without opening his eyes. Leaning in, I cupped his erection through his boxers, closing my hand around him and squeezing. He hissed and moved his hips back, my hand tight on him. Then he arched into me.

  The look of pleasure on his face almost did me in. Touching wasn’t enough. He seemed to agree. Reaching down, he yanked off his boxers, and as soon as he was out of my way, I flicked my tongue over the head of his erection.

  “Jesus, Carrie.” His hands burrowed into my hair and held me in place. “Give me more.”

  I groaned and took him into my mouth, swirling my tongue in circles around him. My God, he felt good there—almost as good as he felt when he was inside me. The skin was so smooth and hard at the same time…and so freaking intoxicating. I’d never get enough of him. I took more of him in my mouth, and he looked down at me—his jaw ticking and his body tightly wound.

  His blue eyes burned with heated need, and he urged me even closer, his jaw flexing as he arched into my mouth. I closed my eyes and let out a soft moan. The urgent need to be taken by him was growing even stronger. Especially when I tasted the salty tang of something I could only assume was his semen. And I wanted more.

  “Enough,” he said, his voice harsh.

  He groaned and lifted me to my feet, crashing his mouth into mine before I could even protest that I hadn’t finished. Within seconds, all thoughts of protesting faded away behind the need to be touched. My nails raked over his shoulders, trying to get him even closer to me, and he deepened the kiss until I was flat on my back on the bed. He moved between my thighs, where I needed him so freaking much, and rolled his hips against me.

  I might not have control anymore, but I didn’t care.

  I just needed him.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist, but my stupid clothes were in the way. I pulled back and undid my pants, my hands trembling too badly to be fast.

  “Hurry up,” he growled, ripping them down my legs and tossing them onto the floor. He continued removing my clothing with jerky movements, his hands steady and sure. He stopped when I was in my red bra and lacy red thong. “These can stay.”

  Without warning, he flipped me onto my stomach and lowered himself on top of me. It took me a second to adjust to the new position, but then I was ready and willing to move on to the next step. Him—inside of me.

  But instead of moving forward to give me what I wanted, he nibbled on my earlobe, biting down just enough to sting. I moaned, the sound escaping from somewhere deep within me. The way he felt, cradling me from behind, drove me insane with want.

  “Finn, now.” I moved underneath of him restlessly, my whole body humming with desire and electric need. “Please.”

  He groaned, his hands flexing on my hips, and bit down on my shoulder before licking away the pain. “Fuck, Ginger. I need you so bad.”

  “Then take me,” I breathed, my fingers digging into the mattress and clinging to the comforter. I had a feeling I’d be hanging on for dear life soon. “Right here. Like this.”

  He moaned. “Not quite yet. You’re not ready.”

  He kissed a path over my shoulder blade, then nibbled on the spot right over my bra clasp. I let out a ragged moan I barely recognized as my own and arched my back. He needed to touch me more. Kiss me more. Do more, before I exploded.

  He undid my bra and I impatiently threw it to the side, and he cupped my breasts from behind. I cried out when he rolled my nipples in between his fingers, squeezing with the perfect amount of pressure, and my stomach hollowed out.

  He rolled his hips against me again, mimicking making love, and I clenched my teeth. He was driving me insane with desire and he wasn’t even really trying, damn it. I needed…needed…him. Now.

  He pushed off me and positioned me with my legs spread more widely, but I was still on all fours. I felt extremely exposed in this position, but it was Finn. And with Finn, I could do anything. I studied him from my weird position, watching as desire darkened his gaze. Watched his erection grow even harder and his breathing become even more erratic.

  I watched hungrily as he rolled a condom on. He watched me as if I was his reward for good behavior—and I really hoped he never stopped looking at me like that.

  He crossed the room, his eyes on my spread thighs. “You might want to hold on tight, Ginger.”

  I fisted my hands tighter into the comforter when he positioned himself behind me. He slid the small scrap of my lace thong to the side and ran his tongue up my slit. I cried out and dug my knees into the mattress. The shock of pleasure his tongue brought me hit me hard and fast. “Oh my God, Finn.”

  “You have no idea how fucking beautiful you look right now,” he said, his voice so low I barely heard him. I wanted to press my thighs together to ease the empty ache I was feeling without him inside of me, but I couldn’t. Not with him in between them. “I bet you want me to taste you again. Don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t tease me. Didn’t waste any time. He flicked his tongue over my clit, then sucked me in between his lips, rolling his tongue perfect circles. When he scraped his teeth against me gently, I cried out and pushed back, demanding more. He gripped my hips with his hands, kneeling behind me and going down on me from behind.

  The erotic image this presented made me twitch wi
th pleasure, building higher and higher until I couldn’t stand it for another second. Everything inside of me burst into fragments, shattering into even smaller pieces until I wasn’t even sure if I existed anymore. I cried out and froze, seeing and hearing nothing. Only feeling.

  He pressed his tongue against my clit, prolonging the orgasm even more, and cupped my butt. “Fuck, Carrie,” he groaned.

  Then he drove inside me—hard and fast. Having him inside me felt so fabulous I wondered for a second if I was dreaming. But then he thrust back into me, and I snapped back into reality. And Finn in real life was so much better than a fantasy.

  I dropped my head to the mattress when he withdrew almost all the way, closing my eyes tight and holding my breath in anticipation. When he was almost all the way out, he thrust back inside of me, then repeated the motion until I was whimpering and moaning his name.

  He picked up the tempo, and tears stung my eyes. The amount of pleasure he was bringing down on me was actually making me cry. Pleasure so strong I couldn’t even freaking handle it without whimpering into the mattress as he barreled into me again and again without restraint. He withdrew, flipped me over on to my back, and drove inside me again. When he changed his angle, going even deeper, I screamed.

  Actually screamed.

  My toes curled and I clenched down on him, my walls squeezing. He groaned and pumped faster, his face lost in the rapture of the moment. When he thrust inside me again, he went spiraling over the edge and collapsed over me, keeping his weight on his elbows.

  Once we regained control of our breathing, he rolled to the side and dragged me with him. I clung to him and rested my head on his chest, right over the spot where there wasn’t a tattoo. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he had plans for that spot, but I realized I couldn’t form a coherent word.

  So I smiled instead.

  “That was a nice way to forget about the stress, huh?” he asked, his lips twitching. He played with a piece of my hair, gently tugging on it. It made me shiver. “And here I was going to suggest surfing as a good method of forgetting about shit.”

  I took a deep breath, hoping when I opened my mouth that something besides an unintelligible grunt came out. “We can do that in the morning. I have a late class,” I said, my heart finally settling back into a normal rhythm. And, lo and behold, I could talk. “But as far as this particular method of distraction goes? I plan on doing it again and again and again until this weekend…”

  “Uh-huh. I see, I see.” He nodded and pursed his lips seriously, as if we were discussing world politics. “But then what? We just stop?”

  “No, then we find out what’s next.” I leaned up and kissed him softly. “And we deal with it.”

  But I really wanted to know what it was.

  Sooner rather than later.

  “Let’s go do something fun,” I said, my hand on her lower back. She’d just finished studying, and we’d been sitting in silence ever since. I needed to make her stop thinking about what we’d be going through. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but never did?”

  “Skydive?”

  I flinched. “I can’t pull that together on short notice.”

  “Bungee jumping?”

  I laughed uneasily. “Do you have a fucking death wish? Jesus.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Nope. I just like the rush.”

  “Yeah, well, tone it down a notch. How about roller-skating? Or ice-skating? Or what about—”

  “Rock climbing.” She sat up straight, her eyes lighting up. “I’ve always wanted to rock climb.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” She nodded enthusiastically. I hadn’t seen her this excited since the time I told her I’d teach her how to surf. “Do you know how?”

  “I used to do it as a kid. Back when my dad still worked here.”

  “Were you good?”

  I tugged on my hair. “My mom had tons of videos of me doing it. I found them the last time I went through the boxes in our attic. I guess I was okay.”

  “Your mom recorded you?” She smiled and squeezed my hand. “That’s so cute.”

  I nodded. “She was that kind of mom. She came to everything with that damn camera in her hand.”

  Without even realizing it, I grinned, remembering how much it used to embarrass me. Now, I’d give anything to have her on the sidelines, watching me through a lens and cheering me on. She’d died of cancer when I was sixteen. I hadn’t been the same since.

  Carrie squeezed my hand again, then dropped a kiss on my jaw. “Let’s go do it. Your mom would like to see you back up on a wall, I bet.”

  She probably would. She’d always said she loved seeing me out there, climbing higher and higher as if I already owned the world. I used to think I did back then. I stood up and helped her stand. “All right. But it’s been years, so I’m probably not going to be the best teacher.”

  “I don’t care.” She laughed and headed for the door, her step already lighter. She picked up her helmet and grinned at me, her blue eyes dancing with excitement. “It’ll be fun. Just you and me and the memory of your mom. Maybe I’ll even take a video, love.”

  I swallowed hard and picked up my phone. I shot a quick text to her dad, then shoved it into my pocket. He’d been a little quiet lately. Must be busy working.

  But still. Weird.

  “Yeah. Fun.” I grabbed my motorcycle keys and my helmet. “So, we’ll need to make sure the place supplies the helmets, elbow guards, and knee pads.”

  “Or we could just climb.” She opened the door. “I’ll hardly be going that high. I think I’ll be all right without all the padding.”

  I considered this, but shook my head. “I have a feeling they require safety equipment.”

  “Finn.” She sighed. “Don’t be my dad. You know I have enough of that in my life. I’ve already surfed and rode a bike. What’s a little harmless rock climbing?”

  She had a point, but it was my job to keep her safe. I sighed and followed her down the stairs. “Be that as it may, you will still need protection. They won’t let you climb up without it. You might want to be free and wild, but they’ll disagree.”

  “If they do, I’ll listen to them.” She pulled her helmet down over her head. “Just not you.”

  “Wow.” I frowned at her. “I love you, too,” I muttered.

  She snorted. “Stop pouting. I’ll probably fall off as soon as I get off the ground, which is why they make you wear a harness thingy,” she said, motioning for me to get on the bike. “I wouldn’t worry about me going too high up.”

  “Not helping my confidence here.” I revved the bike. “Climb on, Ginger.”

  “Later, maybe,” she replied, climbing onto the bike and holding tight. She yelled over the engine of my Harley. “But first, we rock climb!”

  I laughed, loving her enthusiasm. She always dived in to new things with wide-open arms, never showing a hint of fear. Hell, she’d even done that with me. Just kind of opened up and accepted me for what I was. That never ceased to amaze me.

  The whole ride to the closest rock climbing gym—a quick Google search had showed me the one I used to go to still existed—she held on to me, leaning when I leaned, resting while I rested. She had the bike thing down more perfectly than some drivers did. Maybe some day I’d teach her how to drive this thing. I bet she’d like that.

  I parked and we went inside. It took all of five minutes for us to pay, then we were strapped into the harnesses and standing in front of a wall that looked a lot higher than I remembered.

  “Okay, you put one foot on and kind of push up like this.” I did what I described and climbed up a little unsteadily, almost catching myself off guard. Hell, it had been a long time for me. “But make sure to hold on tight with your hands while spreading th
em—but not too far. You don’t want to throw off the balance.”

  She watched me, her brow furrowed, then did as I said. She set one foot up high, tested her weight, but then righted herself. She lifted her other foot, her brow furrowed with concentration. “Like this?”

  “Yep.” I climbed up a little higher again. “Do it again.”

  She did it, much more steadily this time. “It’s almost rope climbing, only you’re stepping instead of wrapping yourself around something.”

  “Except the wall,” I said dryly.

  “Well, duh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Obviously.”

  I stretched my arms and took another step higher. “Attitude, Ginger. Attitude.”

  “Now you’re just showing off.” She followed me, going a lot faster this time. I wanted to grab her and steady her when she wobbled, but I clenched my fists and let her do it for herself. She needed this. “Look, that was pretty good, huh?”

  “Yeah, it was.” I grinned at her. “Watch this.”

  I climbed double the length that I’d been doing, stretching my muscles as far as they could go without falling off the damn wall. She laughed, her eyes shining. “I can do that, too.”

  I side-eyed her. “You think?”

  “Dude.” She pursed her lips and looked to the top of the wall. “What is the worst that can happen? I fall and the harness catches me? Somehow I think I’ll survive.”

  I shook my head. “Fine. It’s your ass, not mine.”

  Technically, it was mine, too. I was supposed to be protecting her, not taking her rock climbing, but whatever. The girl needed to live, for fuck’s sake.

  She’d spent her whole life being watched by men like me not letting her step out of line for even a second. Now she was able to do so. I might be watching her, but I’d be damned if I suffocated her like her father.