“You don’t say?” he muses, tilting his head, watching me too closely.
My fists clench at my sides. I should hit him. I should slam him into the wall and make it very fucking clear that this isn’t a game. That he isn’t winning. That he won’t be touching her again.
His tongue darts out, dragging slowly over his lower lip, savoring what isn’t his. My restraint shatters. The lust that slammed into me the moment she stepped out of the locker room—scent ripe, begging, nothing to do with sweat—rips loose.
I close the distance between us before I even think about it.
One second, I’m glaring at him, the next—I have him by the shirt, fisting the wet fabric, shoving him back against the lockers with a metallic clang.
Finn doesn’t flinch.
He doesn’t fight me.
He grins.
“Mmmm, you’re rough, alpha, I like it,” he purrs.
His breath is warm against my lips. Too close. I should walk away. I should end this now. Instead, I drag in another breath—Willow, fucking everywhere—and I lose the fight. I kiss him. Hard. Unforgiving. The way I wanted to kiss her.
Finn groans against my mouth, his fingers curling into my shirt as I take exactly what I want.
Does he taste like her?
Yes.
But also no.
He tastes of obsession and bad decisions, forbidden and addictive, everything I shouldn’t crave but do. For a second, one reckless, dangerous second, I almost deepen it. Almost let myself get pulled under.
But then, I remember who I am. I’m supposed to be protecting Willow from this guy. Not kissing him.Fuck. I yank back, breathing hard, hating myself.
Finn licks his lips, his pupils blown, his smirk downright filthy.
“Well,” he murmurs, “didn’t expect that, but I’m not complaining.”
I hate how much I want to do it again.
I tighten my grip on his shirt, my voice low and threatening. “Stay the fuck away from her.”
Finn hums, unconcerned. Like I didn’t just kiss him and just lose my fucking mind.
“Or what?” he teases. His smirk deepens. “Will you pin me against a wall next time? Fuck me, even?”
I shove him. Hard. One last time before stepping back, forcing air into my lungs, forcing my hands into fists so I don’t grab him again—for all the wrong reasons.
To do exactly what he’s suggesting.
“Stay away from her,” I warn. “You won’t enjoy what happens next time.”
Finn just grins, his gaze fixed on me, victory written in every line.
“I guess I’ll just have to find out.”
The secondwe exit the rink, Graham is already fuming. His nose is obviously as good as mine.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snaps, rounding on me the second Willow steps away to put her bag in the trunk. “He got to her. Again.”
I roll my shoulders, barely holding back a growl. “Yeah, no shit.”
