Page 8 of The Lies That Shatter
The footsteps have gotten a lot closer than I realise. As I open my eyes, adjusting to his proximity, he closes the gap, stepping towards me once more. Instead of the fear I should feel, my heart is racing for a completely different reason. I don’t need to look to know it’s him. Maybe I could sense it was him all along. Our bodies are so in tune with each other that I just know it’s him approaching, which is why I didn’t sense danger.
I almost want to laugh at the absurdity of my brain, thinking I have some kind of soulmate connection with Finn. It’s more realistic to say that I knew it was him from his scent—slightly floral with chamomile and honey, and a woodsy smell that is so completely Finn. It’s like the most intoxicating perfume, and if I could bottle it up, I would absolutely spray it on my pillow every night, so I could pretend he’s there with me.
Fuck, Mac, can you try to sound like less of a psychotic, stalker bitch, please?I think to myself. I really am starting to sound more than a little obsessed.
All thoughts of my worsening insanity are pushed right out of the window when he closes the gap even further, stepping into my personal space so much that our bodies are almost touching. I can feel his breath against my cheek, and the warmth from hisbody spreads across to mine. He slams one palm onto the wall beside my head, caging me in further, and the intensity of the movement forces my eyes to fly up to look at his face.
He’s still so fucking beautiful that it’s hard to look at him. I mean, his whole fucking family looks like they are models, but nobody should be this sexy.Save some for the rest of us, I think. But the minute I meet his eyes, I realise I’m in trouble. His normally bright crystal blue eyes have darkened, and there’s a burning fire swirling around beneath them that causes my stomach to twist.
His jaw is set in a hard line, and I can see he’s clenching his teeth whilst trying to take small breaths. He’s attempting to come off as calm and cold, but that’s something Finn can never be with me. No matter how reserved he tries to appear, it’s obvious there’s a rage simmering under the surface, and even though he’s trying to control it, I’m his target.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Mac?” he grinds, each word coming out short and sharp. There’s a clear warning in his tone, telling me not to piss him off because he’s close to losing his temper—which is something he’s never done with me.
I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with my messed up brain, but all I can think is that I kinda want to see him lose his shit. I want to experience what he’s like when he loses control. I want to have hot, crazy, angry sex, right here and now, up against this wall, in this dirty alleyway.
I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s not how this little showdown is going to end, but I wouldn’t say no. I’ve spent the last eleven years craving Finn, and now he’s so close I can quite literally almost feel it. All I have to do is reach out and take what I want.
The only thing holding me back is the fire in his eyes, and the way he’s gently trembling beneath me. He’s barely holding it together. I don’t think he could handle me pushing him right now—but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to push a little.
“Walking home from work, Finley. What about you?” I reply smugly, and I don’t miss the way his jaw twitches at my use of his full name. Even his mum doesn’t call him Finley.
His scowl deepens as he closes the distance between us even further, and I can feel the hard lines of his body pressed against mine. I try not to think about how many times I’ve imagined writhing around beneath him, and how hot I get just thinking about it. I need to pull my mind out of the gutter, because he’s clearly not thinking about me in any kind of sexual way right now. He’s pissed with me.
“Don’t play fucking games, McKenna. Why are you here?” he spits, his teeth grinding as he glares at me.
“I told you, I’m here for work,” I reply vaguely, his jaw twitching at my blasé response.
With his free hand—the other remaining firmly on the wall beside my head, helping to cage me in—he reaches up and places it on my neck, his fingers spreading around so he can push slightly against my throat.
The sexiest kind of necklace, I think to myself.
For just a second, there’s a spark of fear, and I wonder if Finn’s really capable of causing me harm. After all, I don’t really know him anymore. We haven’t spoken for several months. And the last few times we talked didn’t exactly go well.
He’s certainly not the fresh faced kid I was infatuated with at school. The guy in front of me now, who is gently pressing on my throat, restricting my breathing, is all man, and he’s completely foreign to me.
I reach up to grab hold of his wrist, my small hands looking almost dainty as I try to pull free from his grasp. But it’s no use. He’s bigger and stronger than me, and is completely in control right now.
Even though he’s not pressing too hard—not enough to leave marks or hurt too much—he’s still able to restrict my breathing,and I start to panic as black spots begin flooding the corners of my vision. He must see the fear in my eyes, as he quickly drops his hand from my neck and takes a step back, keeping his other arm on the wall still.
With his hand no longer supporting me, and his body not caging me in as much as before, I fall forward slightly, bending in the centre until my forehead is against his chest, my hands resting on my thighs for support. I gasp for air, and am shocked by how sharp it feels as I drag the breath into my lungs. Finn takes another step back so I’m not touching him, and I don’t need to look at him to know he’s mad at himself for lashing out the way he did.
Taking one shaky hand off my thigh, I reach out and grab the front of his shirt, fisting it into my fingers as best I can given the trembling. Once I’m sure I have control over my breathing, I risk a look at Finn. His face is back to the hard mask he was wearing in the Whitlock house, but his bright blue eyes look haunted. I can see he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek—a nervous habit he’s had since he was a kid.
Every so often his gaze flicks from looking at me, down to where my hand is gripping his shirt, tethering him to me. I can tell he’s confused. I should push him away while yelling at him for putting his hand on my throat like that. But I don’t.
The truth is, I’ve had several dreams where he’s done exactly that to me. Only, in the dreams, he has a much more sexual motive, and the whole act is a massive fucking turn on. I never thought I’d like being manhandled and submitting to a guy, letting him take pleasure in any way he chooses. But with Finn, I think I would do anything.
As those wicked thoughts flood my brain, I feel tingles across my lower stomach, spreading to my core, and I know I need to do something, or there’s a very good chance I’m going to pullFinn into me and smash my lips against him. And, sadly, I don’t think we’re quite ready for that yet.
Reluctantly, I drop my hand from his shirt, and for just a second, a sad expression flicks across his face. I look up at him through hooded eyes, hoping he can see how much I still feel for him, without having to use words. Though I do owe him some answers.
“McKenna, I need to know what the fuck you are doing here. I’m sure you have figured out by now that I’m working, and you nearly blew the whole fucking operation back there. Do you have any idea what would happen if Mel even suspects that one of us is a spy?”
His voice rises at the end, and I can hear more than just anger. He sounds as though he is genuinely concerned for my wellbeing. His sincerity pushes me to be honest with him.
I give him a small smile and take a deep breath before I explain. “I’m here for you.”
His breath hitches and his eyes widen as my words sink in. My voice trembles, but I continue. “That night, after Anita’s funeral, plays on repeat in my head, you know. Growing up with you, I knew who your dad was, and the type of work he was involved in. I watched each of your brothers train for roles that were too bloody grown up for teenagers to be undertaking. I prayed to any deity that would listen, asking them to spare you. You were far too good for that life, but were always destined to be part of it all the same.
