But it won’t.
I’m already right there, fuck, I’m already unraveling, my pulse hammering in my clit.
I dig my heels into the mattress, grind down with every ounce of leverage I have left, chasing the friction, determined to finish exactly how I want: with Finn’s name on my tongue and no air left, nothing but pounding heat and the throb of release blanketing my whole body.
I scream.
The world whites out, loud and silent at the same time, every nerve ending firing until I’m crying out, gasping, clutching so hard at Finn’s shoulders he might have bruises for a week.
He doesn't stop, can’t stop, his own moan guttural, and he lets go with a stuttering shudder that leaves us both limp, trembling, slicked with sweat and each other.
The room spins out, walls tilting, and the lights blurring in the peripheral. I collapse sideways beside him, skin hot and sticky, and Finn lets out a breathless laugh.
His knuckles graze over my cheek, and he leans in, lips brushing lazily against my forehead, temple, and lips.
It’s soft now, the gentleness that follows a storm. I want to swim in this for days, for months. It’s almost enough to make me forget the stiffness in my thighs or the raw ache down deep, the way every muscle wants to curl into itself and hum.
I lie there, eyes unfocused, and let myself drift, blinking up at the ceiling where the cabin’s rafters cut black bars against the blue haze. Finn’s hand settles on my stomach, splayed, thumb tracing lazy circles just below my belly button, and that’s how he stays as I eventually drift into sleep.
CHAPTER TWO
Ryder
The Hollow's quiet now,after the last orders, after the music’s stopped and the drunken laughter has faded. The flicker of the neon sign still pulses weakly against the dark, and the place is empty.
Good.
I walk through the door, boots heavy against the worn floorboards, and I do what I always do when I step into a space that’s mine: I scan. Every corner. Every shadow. Every inch. The bar’s clean, but I’m not just looking for spilled drinks. I’m looking for danger.
This place isn’t just a bar. It’s my stake in the ground. It’s a new beginning. The last thing I need is for anyone to think otherwise. I didn't come here to get cozy; I came to get control. The Hollow is a foothold, a place to rebuild.
But it’s not just about me, not just about making money or getting some quiet life. I brought Finn and Zane here too. They’re my family. My responsibility. I don’t take that lightly. This town’s supposed to be a fresh start, but the past? It doesn’t die that easy. The ghosts are always lurking, just waiting for me to slip.
Coyote Glen feels so far away from that danger though, it’s easy to forget sometimes.
This small town… it’s one of those quaint postcard-type places. The sort of place where nothing bad happens. It’s perfect for us, as long as we can keep it safe.
My phone rings, slicing through the stillness. I pull it from my pocket and press it to my ear, not bothering with pleasantries.
“Rhea, hey.”
“Ryder.”
I can tell by her tone that this won’t be good news. Rhea and I have been in one another’s lives for as long as I can recall. I can almost read her damn mind. A late-night call like this… yeah, it’s no good.
“Talk to me.”
“Cole Varga’s sniffing around,” she says immediately, her words clipped. “Asking about you.”
I curse under my breath, the name hitting me as a punch to the gut. Cole Varga. That’s the last person I wanted to hear about tonight.
“Any specifics?” I ask, my grip on the phone tightening.
“Nothing solid yet,” she replies. “He’s asking around. It’s like he knows where you are. I’m not sure how, but I’m keeping an eye on him.”
I let out a slow breath, trying to calm myself. Cole was part of the club once, but that was before he turned his back on us. He’s a shadow from my past, and I should’ve known it wouldn’t stay buried.
“I need you to keep him busy,” I tell her. “Don’t let him dig too deep. Let me know if he makes a move.”
