Page 57 of Best Friends, Tennessee

I didn’t finish my sentence. He was still glaring at me as he closed the gap between us, pulling me in by my waist. He leaned in and after a split second, I realized what he was doing.

His lips crushed against mine in a rough kiss and suddenly it was as if the whole fucking floor had dropped out from under me.

Possessivedidn’t even begin to describe it.

His mouth on mine communicated only one thing, loud and clear:you’re mine.His hands moved across the front of my body, resting at my hips, gripping me hard. He kept his lips on mine as he moved me backward. I sat my ass down on the hardwood bench of the bay window, leaning back into the side of the alcove. I could still taste a trace of whiskey on his lips, mixed with the sweet, tart orange from the juice.

So sweet, mixed with a little bitter bite of liquor.

My cock hardened. The fucking traitor.

“Say it again,” he said as he broke off to take a breath. The warmth of his palms traveled lower, coming to rest on my bulge and making my cock ache. “You know it’s not true.”

“Fuck you,” I growled.

Truthfully, I was pissed off.

How many years had I spent being so sure that he was straight? Convincing myself that there was nothing I could be attracted to about Finn, because once I opened that box, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to put the lid back on it again?

“I don’t need your help.”

I was saying things I knew I didn’t mean. As he leaned in close again, his lips landed on my neck. He sucked slow kisses along my sensitive skin there, unraveling me, bit by bit.

His mouth felt impossibly hot. Was he trying to torture me?

Was this some new method of fucking with me? Kissing me and tormenting me sexually rather than just fighting me like he normally did?

When he looked at me again, it seemed like he was staring straight through me into my soul.

“Think you can say it to me again after drinking a few margaritas, like you did the other night?”

I shifted underneath him and then he pinned me right back down.

“Give me a break,” I said.

“Or how about after some margaritas,” Finn continued, “and some tears, and kissing me at the bar like I’m your guardian angel?”

A flash of anger flared up in my chest.

“You kissed me, jackass, and it was only because of your savior complex.”

“Or because I felt like it, which is apparently a concept you can’t understand,” Finn said. A second later he claimed my mouth with his again. His tongue came out against mine, and he leaned forward so that my cock rutted up against his thigh.

Goddamnit, he was good with my body.

Every move he made turned me on a little more, like he was coaxing me into a hypnotic trance.

“Finn,” I said in a low voice.

“I know I’m not your type,” he said. “But I fucking want you. Purely physical.”

“Shut up.”

How could it be true?

His gaze traveled up and down my body, and I’d never felt so naked in front of him. I was totally clothed and felt like he was seeing every inch of me.

He liked what he saw?

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