Page 33 of Our Little Dove

A cruel smile tugs at the corners of Fintan’s lips, and he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “Well, well, well… Looks like our little secret is safe—for now. Let’s not waste this opportunity, brother. We have unfinished business with her, don’t we? She couldn’t stay away after the tex-t-s…” he stumbles over that last word.

“Texts? What fucking texts?” I growl, grabbing him by the collar of his T-shirt as I pull him closer. A sudden, blinding rage creeps into my bones, setting my body ablaze as I wait for him to explain his words.

“Calm down,” Fintan mutters, forcing my grip to loosen. “I may have sent a couple of messages and maybe a short clip of the content we made for Hush—a warning, really.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I yell. His hand darts toward my face, connecting with my jaw as he punches mebefore gripping my throat and pulling my forehead against his, so I meet his gaze.

“Shut the fuck up!” he whisper-yells, “she’ll fucking hear you.”

I try to push him away, but his grip only tightens. I can feel the heat radiating from his hand around my throat, his angry breath fanning my face. I am barely able to swallow as I struggle for air.

“Fuck you, Fintan! What right do you have to put our lives at risk like that?” I spit, trying to wrench myself from his grip, but his fingers tighten even more.

“This is nothing but a game to you, huh? Is everyone around you just pawns to be sacrificed for your amusement? You could have just left her alone after we left her in that parking lot!” I hiss.

The anger and resentment in my voice seem to bewilder him, almost as if I’ve broken through a carefully constructed wall.

Slowly, his grip loosens, and he takes a step back, his eyes narrowing as he attempts to regain control of the situation. “Oh please! Don’t fucking tell me that you don’t think about that night… The three of us. Together. You fucking loved it! You are just too much of a pussy to do anything about it,” he growls.

I step closer, our faces merely inches apart, and I spit out, “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but it has to stop. You can’t keep putting us in harm’s way like this, and you can’t keep fucking with her like a… like a plaything. What if she goes to the cops, Fin?”

There’s a palpable tension in the air. He swallows hard, his gaze shifting from mine, finally looking down at the hard concrete beneath us.

“Here. See for yourself. She’s too scared to run her pretty little mouth,” he says as he hands me the phone we use for work. “Before you scream some more like a jealous housewife, the number is untraceable.”

After reading the texts, I stare into his eyes, trying to discern the thoughts behind those piercing golden orbs. “Why did you do it?” I ask, my voice barely audible, trying to contain the tsunami of emotions threatening to break free.

Anger? Sadness? Excitement? Relief?

What the fuck am I supposed to feel right now? The confusing part is, I’m not as pissed off by the threatening messages he sent to her but I’m livid that she never responded to any of them.

Does she care? Is she too afraid? Does Fin feel the same way?

We haven’t spoken about anything besides the money since that night.

“I didn’t want to let her go,” he admits. His words shock me as I try to make sense of them.

He takes a deep breath, and I can see a momentary hesitation in his eyes. He must be debating whether or not to reveal his meaning.

“Why not?” I ask, confused and stunned by his admission. “I’ve been trying to get you to open up and relax for months before she came along. Would you have kissed me at all if she wasn’t there?” he asks.

I remain silent as I stare at him, my muscles tensing as I stand, unable to form a coherent thought to voice a reply.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, ripping the cap from my head as he closes the distance between us. He grabs a fistful of my dark hair at the nape of my neck and pulls me closer until our lips collide.

The intensity of our kiss and his desperate need is overwhelming. I can feel the raw emotion pouring from him, and I respond in kind, allowing my silent confession to bleed onto his tongue. My cock strains against the fabric of my jeans as I delight in the feeling of his lips against mine.

I want him. I want them both. I have never been one to voice my feelings aloud and I probably never will. Actions speak louder than words after all. I have been fixated on the way he behaved that night, and fuck knows why it bothers me not knowing if he only kissed me because of her or the cameras.

Does he even want to? Has he ever?

He pulls away, shock masking his intentions as he whispers, “I can’t do this, Fin,” His words, intense and pained as he appears to fight with the emotions that have been plaguing him for so long.

I nod, unable to form words. There is something undeniably primal and raw about the emotions coursing through me. I have been with many people. Countless times I have joked around, playfully touching or kissing Kieran but this is different.

Is it because I care about him? The fact that he isn’t just another body with holes for me to fill.

He clears his throat, drowning the sudden uncomfortable silence between us. “How do we play this? She’s waiting inside…” he trails off as he notices the bulge in my pants. He turns his gaze as if ashamed to witness my arousal.

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