“Go home, Finnegan.” He moves forward until I have no choice but to step back until I’m at the threshold of his apartment. “Go back to Lincoln and leave me alone.”
He’s not budging. We’re chest to chest, and his eyes are fixed on mine. Our chests rise and fall in synchronicity as our breathing becomes heavier, darker, deeper. Our mouths come together, in a bruising, teeth clashing kiss. I shove my hands into his hair as he grasps my hips, and I find I’m being walked back into my apartment. I groan when his tongue swipes over mine, tasting, tangling, and tormenting. He’s in control now, his Dom surfacing, and he bites my bottom lip to the point of exquisite pain. He’s clouding my thoughts and my actions, taking everything he wants from me.
Until we break apart for air, then clarity rushes back to my brain, and I push him away. “Fuck! You need to leave.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy, making a show of adjusting his dick through his jeans. “What? Fuck no. I’m not going anywhere.” He runs his fingers through his hair, making it messier than I did. “There’s something between us, Drake. We both felt it the night we met; we both felt it with just one touch. Now we have a chance to build on it.”
I shrug, brushing him off. “It’s not gonna happen, Finnegan. Go back home.”
He matches my shrug but turns to the door. “I’m not going anywhere, boy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I watch him saunter out, not bothering to close the door. When I reach it, he’s standing by the lift, the unlit call button showing it hasn’t been pressed yet. He looks at me and grins.“You’ll be thinking of me when you rub that one out.” He looks at my sweats and the outline of my still half hard dick. Then he turns to face the brushed metal lift door and presses the button.
I stay in the doorway and watch the door swish open, still at my floor since he just got out of it less than ten minutes ago.
What the hell is happening? I’m totally blindsided by him, and of course, the bastard was right. The moment I get into bed, my hand—working by itself, the traitorous beast—travels down my stomach to my abs and strokes over my dick.
The smug smirk on Finn’s face is front and centre in my head as I stroke my hardening length. The guy’s a real dick, but fuck, he kisses like a dream. A dirty, sexy, and sweaty dream, but still a dream. It doesn’t take me long to get lost in the image of the infuriating man on his knees with his mouth around my dick. I play with my balls as I stroke harder and faster, tugging on them to delay the sparks of the orgasm starting to build.
But I can’t hold it back for long, and as I come, his name is on my lips as a prayer and a curse.
I’m screwed.
I don’t hear anything else from him for a week. For all I know, he’s gone back to Lincoln.
When I walk into the gym, Royal and Memphis are leaning against the rec room wall, laughing with Noah. I let out a long breath, glad that Finn isn’t with them. Then I’m annoyed because one of them must have given him my address. They haven’t noticed me stomping up to them; Memphis even jumps a little as I step into their space. There it is—my answer.
“Why did you give Finnegan my address?” I snap, then step back a little when Royal pushes himself away from the wall and positions himself next to his boy.
“Finnegan,” Memphis snorts. “You must really hate him if you’re using his full name. He hates being called that. He’s caned people for less,” he whispers to my brother. Then he shrugs. “He asked for it; why is it a problem? I thought you got on okay with him. You helped him out when I went to hospital. Anyway, he said he wanted to thank you for something. He didn’t tell me what. So, what did he want? Is he hoping for some dirty sex with you?”
Damn, why does Memphis always see through us brothers. Can he tell we kissed, and why I’ve jacked off twice to the memory of the kiss? “You should’ve asked me, Memphis. You know I don’t like people just turning up at my place, especially strangers.”
Both Royal and Memphis frown. “He’s not a stranger; he’s my best friend.”
“Yeah, well he’s not mine. Has he left now, or am I going to keep getting visits from him?” I cross my arms over my chest, not sure why I’m letting this annoy me so much. But the bloke has really got under my skin.
“Hey, calm down. We get the message,” Royal takes over. “No more visitors to your place.”
“And no, he hasn’t left. He’s not going back; he’s got no reason to stay there so he’s moving here.” Memphis looks thrilled at his friend’s decision. Me not so much.
I walk away and get ready to spend the day with twelve teenagers. Is this really my life now? I thought being home would level me out. Having my brothers and my dads close by would be good for me. Now, I’m not so sure. I should start putting the feelers out for another protection job. The thought isn’t doing it for me either. I could book a holiday, get out of the country for a few weeks. I’ve always fancied touring the US on a Harley. I could look into doing that. Yeah, that sounds more like it. With two of my brothers loved up, it will be either me or Knoxto get the matchmaking attention. Pops isn’t going to be satisfied until all his boys are happy and settled.
To my happy surprise, Lucas and Clark seem to be best buddies now—perhaps something more seeing how close they get when they talk quietly together. Whether it’s just friendship or the start of something more, I’m happy for them.
The day goes fast, and I’m surprised when a woman, probably in her late thirties approaches me. “It’s Drake, isn’t it? Lucas talks about you all the time. I know that something happened here last week, and I don’t need to know what, but thank you. Whatever you said to Clark and Lucas has made a difference. It’s hard to make friends when you’re a foster kid, and the fear of being moved on or going back home is always hanging over them. He’s been lonely, and Clark seems a great kid. I hope they continue being friends when school starts again. That’s all I wanted to say, just thank you.”
And just like that, the gloomy, trapped feeling I’ve had all day lifts, thanks to this lady and some kind words of appreciation. “Hey, no problem. Me and my brothers were all fostered, then adopted by Kip and Robin. I was thirteen when I met them. They’ve always taught us to pay it forward.”
She looks curious. “They adopted you even though you were older?”
“They did. I think Saint and Royal were seventeen, I was fourteen, and Knox was fifteen.”
“Do you think they would mind if I spoke to them. I’d love to adopt Lucas, but I’m not sure how or if I can.”
I explain that Robin was head of social services here when I went to live with them and that he’d love to talk things over with her. I call my other dad over, and after introducing them, I leave them to talk alone.
I’d never given the hows and whys a thought when they asked us if we’d like to be with them permanently. I just acceptedthat they wanted us and that was it. How much paperwork does actually go into fostering kids, let alone adopting them? At the time, all I knew was my mum didn’t or couldn’t have me anymore.
