“Olympic level,” he said, dimple ablaze again.
She wet her lips and had to remind herself that they were just joking around, reminiscing, trying to forget the bad stuff for a few minutes. This was not flirting. Because that would be inappropriate. And ill-advised. And fucked up.
“My tutoring game, not so much,” she added.
“Hey, I passed, right?” he teased, wistfulness filling his gaze. “God, it’s so easy to let that stuff slip away, to remember that there were good things.” He reached out and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger. “Great things.”
Her mouth went dry, and electric awareness traveled down her neck from the spot where he’d touched her, lighting up nerves along the way. She bit her lip, searching for something innocuous to say, but no words would come. All she could see was Finn. Not the one who’d left her. Not the stranger he was now. The one who used to make her feel good. Her Finn.
She couldn’t turn away. She recognized that look, the sharp edge of yearning in it. She had a feeling she was giving the same one back.
She needed to stop, step away. Save them both. But instead, her hands reached out and flattened against his chest. She stepped closer, too close for friendly. She did all of it without saying a word, and then she pushed up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his.
* * *
Finn’s muscles locked the moment Liv’s hands slid up his chest. He’d seen her shift forward but hadn’t expected her to actually touch him again. He’d still been reeling from the earlier hug. But the feel of her hands splayed over him, moving up along his body, was far more erotic than the embrace had been, and his body was so starved for touch that it took everything he had not to groan.
But this was Liv. And she’d been upset. And drinking. He needed to warn her away. Stop this before anything happened. That was the right thing to do. This was not what he’d come out here for.
But then she kissed him.
Salty sweet lips and soft curves melted against him, blowing his noble plan to bits. Every cell in his body caught fire at the contact. It’d been so long—So. Damn. Long.—since he’d had a woman pressed against him. But more than that. This was Liv. Sexy, grown-up Olivia Arias. Subject of his teenage fantasies. His thoughts scattered like shrapnel, making it impossible to piece any together. He was supposed to be doing something. Stopping this. But he didn’t say a goddamned word. He couldn’t. Instead, he did the absolute worst thing.
He kissed her back.
His hands went to her face, and a needy groan escaped. The taste of her was like adrenaline to his blood—the tartness of her drink and Liv’s own unique flavor mixing together. She had started softly, tentatively, a Hey, how about we try this for a second? But soon he couldn’t help himself. When she parted her lips, he took the invitation and deepened the kiss, the starved man taking over. He hadn’t been with a woman in over two years, but this was more than that. He hadn’t kissed this woman in what felt like a lifetime.
Liv gasped into his mouth but didn’t pull away. Instead, she took his cue and shifted closer, torturing him with the feel of her curves and the heat of her against him. His hand slid to the back of her neck, gripping that soft place and holding her where he wanted her. But as the kiss went on, he craved more, every male cell in his body making demands. He wanted to tip her head back and work his way down her neck, take that salty skin between his teeth, fill his hands with her lush curves and follow with his tongue until she moaned for him. Until she begged and fell apart in his arms.
Maybe she wanted that, too, because this was not a fumbling teenage kiss in the library stacks. This was the kiss of a woman with experience, one who knew what kisses like this led to, one who lit matches because she wanted the fire. So when she fully aligned her body against his, all that soft heat grinding against the increasingly un-soft part of him, he was ready to set her whole world ablaze.
His brain switched off completely. Gone were logical thoughts, rational explanations, or wise decisions. He just wanted the oblivion right now. He wanted Liv.
She gasped between kisses, grabbing a breath, her eyes dazed. “Finn.”
His name was a plea, a prayer, a goddamned benediction.
He wanted to answer it.
“I’ve got you.” He took her mouth again and backed her up against the porch column, the wood creaking in protest. Screw good decisions. Screw it all. He’d figure that shit out later. This felt too good to stop.
Her hands slipped beneath his T-shirt, her touch like a firebrand on his skin, and another groan escaped them both. He grabbed her thigh and dragged her leg up, pressing himself against her, liking the noise she made at the contact. Loving the way her nails dug into skin. Yes. This.
Tonight they’d finally—
“Whoa, uh, oops.”
Finn froze at the voice, and Liv turned to stone in his hold, her eyes going wide as she looked over his shoulder at their visitor.
“Tell me it’s staff,” he said against her ear. “Tell me they’re turning around and leaving us be.”
“It’s Kincaid,” she whispered. “And she’s not going anywhere.”
Shit.
Finn grimaced and instantly released Liv, giving her space to straighten her clothes, but he didn’t turn around to greet the unwelcome guest. He adjusted the front of his jeans instead and gave Liv a pointed look.
Blessedly, she got the message and stepped around him, giving him cover while he let the ice water of being caught cool his arousal.