Please join us in welcoming Bella Love to Book Binge to share an excerpt from her book, Spin. There’s a giveaway for a free copy so don’t miss out!
…all I was aware of was Finn. His hard body leaning back against the truck, his short hair tousled by a breeze, his palms shoved down into his pockets, his forearms roped with lean muscle.
He seemed completely comfortable with the silence spreading out between us.
I was not.
I remembered this about him. He’d stand in the middle of the chaos of a town event like the heart of a cyclone. All around, men and boys would be whooping and hollering, shooting off their mouths and sometimes their guns. The women would be talking, children would be screaming, music would be playing, and Finn would stand in the center of it all, of it and yet somehow beyond it all.
Me, I plunged right into the thick of all that noise and energy. I thrived on it. I aimed for noise and energy and movement and endless distraction.
Silence might be a problem.“I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” I said, looking at the house.
He kept looking at the house too. “Really?”
My face flushed. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to detect it from the general summer swelter making everything else sweaty and flushed.
“You sure about that?” he asked, his voice low.
We turned our heads and looked at each other.
“Looking for trouble?” I suggested my own motives somewhat weakly.
He smiled.
“I don’t do that very much,” I told him.
He rolled his hip against the truck, turning to me. “Janey, you’ve been looking for trouble since the day you were born.”
I opened my mouth to say that was not quite what I meant, and anyhow, it was ridiculous, then I shut it again. He’d taken his sunglasses off, and I could see his eyes. A definite point of vulnerability for me, Finn’s blue eyes. Hard to lie when I was peering into them.
So instead, I snorted. “Me? What about you?”
He searched mine a moment, then he told me, “It’s not hard to find trouble if you’re looking, Janey.”
“No, I guess not.” We were quiet for a minute. “Are you looking, Finn?”
He rested his elbow on the roof of the truck. “Yeah. I like your trouble.”
“Oh.” Heat spread down my body like a river starting up.
“And you like mine.”
“I don’t know what makes you say that,” I said primly.
He laughed. “You kissed me, Janey.”
“I lost my mind.”
“Twice.”
“So I lost it twice,” I said weakly.
He dropped his arm and tugged a loose strand of my hair between two fingers and lit me up. “Lose it again,” he said, low and rough.
I was helpless against that voice.
So I went up on my toes and touched my lips to his, just like always. And just like always, he hit me like lightning—electric, straight through the center of me.
“All gone,” I whispered.
His arm clamped around my back. “My turn,” he said, and put his hot mouth on mine.
Finally. I felt like cheering. Eleven years. How long could someone wait?
Wait, what? I’d been waiting?
I didn’t have time to focus on that, because his kiss was taking all my attention. It was nothing like what I’d expected. I thought he’d devour me, eat me alive. I wanted him to devour me. But he was…tasting me.
Soft, tiny fire kisses, lighting me up like there were embers deep in my belly. Touch, brush, touch, brush, he kissed from one side of my mouth to the other, a tiny stroke of his tongue here and there, like he was painting my lips.
“Oh,” I whispered, shocked and trembling at the gentleness, and he slipped his tongue inside my mouth.
Hot and slippery and slow and deep, he explored me with licks and strokes, teeth and tongue. Chills shot across my breasts, making my nipples almost painfully hard. I was fired up, dangerous, and wanting more.
I wrapped my hands around his neck and might have sort of tried to climb up his body. He seemed to get the hint, because he pushed me back hard against the side of the truck, then stepped between my legs. His erection was hard between us and he rocked his hips into me, looking down at me, and grinned.
I felt like a storm brewing. “I feel like I could do anything,” I whispered, my wrist slung around his neck.
“Go for it.”
“Last time you said that, you meant for me to stick my hand down your pants.”
“Yeah, that’s what I mean now.”
I laughed, feeling reckless and dizzy, and slid my hand down to the bulge in his jeans. “Like this?” I asked, trembling inside.
“Close.” He splayed the hand around my back and started tipping me backward.
I flattened my palm against his chest. “Don’t you have neighbors?”
He paused, mid-lean. “One, not many. Two, they’re pretty far away. Three, I don’t care.”
I nodded and slid my hand down his stomach. It was hard under the thin cotton. I pulled his shirt up and slid my fingers down him, to the button of his jeans.
“Well, if there’s not many and they’re far away and we don’t care….”
“We don’t care at all,” he said in a hoarse voice as I went down on my knees in front of him.
Good luck!