Reckless (Bastards of Grove Hill Book 1), page 6
It's a long drive to the beach from Grove Hill and it's a struggle not to cry. I didn't care when Gloria flirted with Duncan, but I care when it's Finn.
Why? He's just a player and he's not my boyfriend.
Nyla rubs my arm as we sit in silence. There's nothing she can say. She saw exactly what I did.
My phone goes off and I see it’s a message from Finn, but I ignore it. Another five minutes pass and another message follows the first and then another.
Finally, I cave and look at my messages.
Finn: You look great today, Princess.
I cringe at that message. Princess. How can he call me that after what he did? God, he's such an asshole.
Finn: I'll see you at the beach, okay?
Why the fuck is he going to the beach? He can't do that. I don't want to see him. Not after I saw him flirting with Gloria. That was like a kick in the teeth.
Finn: Francine?
I bite my lip to refrain from crying. He doesn't deserve my tears. No amount of orgasms is worth what he's doing to me—playing with my heart like this. I'm not some toy to entertain him. I'm worth more than that.
Francine: Don't go to the beach. I don't want to see you and stop messaging me. Haven't you got the memo that I don't want to talk to you?
I press send and the word seen appears below my words. The three dots appear, signaling that he's typing, and Nyla's hand tightens on my arm. She's reading and waiting for this, too.
Why am I even waiting? Nothing he can possibly say could make up for what he did.
Finn: Why?
I groan at his simple response. How does he not realize what he did? Does he think he did nothing wrong?
Francine: I saw you, okay? You're such an asshole. I was still in the parking lot when you did that. Just leave me alone.
I hit send and look up to see no one is paying attention to me—only Nyla.
Finn: While you were in the parking lot? Are you talking about Gloria? Fucking hell. Are you jealous?
I don't respond. I silence the notification for our messages and toss my phone in my bag.
He isn't even going to apologize. I can practically hear him laughing about this in his message. This isn't funny.
He's the first guy I let touch me between my legs and the next day he has the gall to mock me. He's the one who was flirting with Gloria, and he slapped her butt.
I'm not jealous. I'm hurt. There's a difference. Jealous would be getting upset when she flirted with him if he didn't flirt back. I am upset about that, which I refuse to read into. It doesn't matter.
I won't give Finnick O'Reilly the time of day ever again.
We arrive at the beach and start to set everything up. The guys are waiting until three to set up the tents so everyone can just relax and enjoy the beach.
The entire school is here—including Finn and the rest of the Bastards. I can see him only about a hundred feet from us, and like always, he's surrounded by girls who want to take him to bed. He's "entertaining" them with flirtation, and it's more of a jab to the gut than before.
He knows I'm upset, and he's still doing it. It's almost as if it’s his response to everything. He doesn't care that it hurts me, and it shows.
I'm obsessed with you.
His words from last night repeat in my head. He was lying to me. He doesn't look obsessed with me right now. He looks like he's having the time of his life and I'm the good girl whose heart is breaking over him.
I reach into my bag and grab my one-piece, cover-up, and flip-flops before heading over to the changing tent.
It's a football field away from where we're set up, but I'm fine with the distance. It gives me an excuse to get away from Finn and his gaggle of potential lovers.
I go in and put on my chosen attire before putting my hair up in a sloppy bun. I probably look like hell, but I don't care.
I'm already praying for this weekend to be over.
I stroll out of the changing tent and come face to face with my tormentor, the man who hurt me so bad—Finn.
I ignore him and go to walk away, but he suddenly grabs me and drags me back into the tent with him.
"What are you doing?" I hiss at him, but he's already zipped the flap of the tent shut behind him. There's very little space and I'm flush against his rock-hard body.
I eye the tattoos exposed on his bulging biceps, and my body tenses.
He has a lot of tattoos.
"Getting privacy," he mutters, his voice low with tension. His icy blues gaze into mine as he runs his fingers down my jaw before I swat it away.
"Don't touch me," I hiss at him, but he doesn't come across as bothered.
"Why not? You had no problem with me touching you last night. As a matter of fact, you were insatiable for my touch... and my tongue," he groans as his eyes darken.
I know he's turned on from remembering his mouth and his hands on my body. I am, too, but I refuse to acknowledge it or let him see it.
"Did I not make myself clear? Stay. Away. From. Me." I warn him, but instead of moving out of my way, his hand wraps around my throat, pressing my back into the side of the tent.
I hate it, but the sexual aggression turns me on.
"Why would I stay away from you when I can see you don't really want me to, babygirl?" he rasps in my face, the taste of his tantalizing breath covering me.
An involuntary moan slips past my lips.
He groans. "You wanted me last night like you want me right now. You're mine, Francine. Do I need to remind you of that?"
I don't say anything. Instead, I grasp for logic and try my best to pull his hand away from my neck, but it's no use. He's way stronger than me.
"Just because you're pissed about another girl flirting with me doesn't change that you belong to me," he groans, his lips barely a breath away from mine. I can taste him, but I can't do that. I need to stay strong.
"I belong to no one, especially not you. I'm not pissed because my nemesis flirted with you. I'm hurt because you flirted back," I admit.
His eyes glaze over with comprehension. "Hmm," he grumbles before studying my face.
"Yeah, so let go of me and stay the heck away from me. I'm not a toy for you to play with and put away when you want to play with someone else."
His eyes narrow in irritation, but he doesn’t let go of his grip on my throat. It loosens, but not enough for me to leave. “You listen to me, Princess. You don’t have a right to be mad when you’re doing the same thing.”
The same thing? What the hell is he talking about? “Huh?”
“I want to murder your boyfriend anytime he goes near you just because he might try to touch you.”
The logical side of me screams to stay away from Finn. Threatening to murder someone is not normal! “That’s so stupid. You're not going to hurt Duncan,” I say.
He stares at me as if I just offended him. "Oh, yeah? Why is that?"
"You don't just go around threatening people. Plus, he's not my boyfriend anymore."
Finn isn't moved in any way by what I've said other than his eyes lightening in color. "Since when? You didn't say anything last night."
"He wasn't the reason I was upset last night," I admit.
His expression softens exponentially.
"You were because of what you did. You said just enough that he twisted it in his head, so I must've been cheating on him with you."
His eyes widen, but then they narrow and the look on his face is menacing. "What did he do?" He grits out in anger.
"Exactly what I said, accused me of cheating on him with the one person he seems to hate—you. I was upset that he jumped to that conclusion, and we broke up. End of story. You got your wish, but that was your end game, right? Make him think something is going on, so he wants nothing to do with me. So, I'm all yours and Duncan is out of the way, right?"
He releases my neck, which lowers the tension in my body. He cups my face in his warm hands, staring at me affectionately. "That was not my end game, Francine."
A flutter settles in my stomach at my name falling off his tongue.
"I'm many things. I'm possessive. I'm an asshole. I get over the top jealous over what is mine, i.e. you, but I'm not a liar. I don't hide who I am or what I am. Malloy pissed me off because he had what I wanted. I only said what I did because he pissed me off, acting like you belong to him. He was never supposed to take it out on you.
"I'm not going to pretend I feel bad that it's over between you two because now I get you all to myself without your stupid no cheating rule," he says with a possessive edge to his voice, a hint of arousal slipping into his speech.
"Well, no boyfriend, no cheating," I admit.
A dazzling smirk rises across his lips. "Exactly."
"Then, why does this feel like I'm cheating on him?" I ask, concern filling me.
"Because you just broke up. It's called survivor's guilt. It's perfectly natural, but it doesn't mean you're doing anything bad."
I'm not sure if I believe that. It feels like this is too soon after my breakup. Maybe I just need some time before anything happens between me and Finn. Yeah, that sounds right.
"We shouldn't have done that last night," I mutter with shame, but he doesn't look mad or upset.
"I'm not going to push you. This is all in your hands, but if you ask me to do that again, I'm not going to say no. I'm a man, not a fucking saint."
I know he's not a saint. He's a sinner of the highest degree. My body reacts to it in a way that's unnatural, shameful.
"And," he starts again, his eyes going dark. "Don't expect me to read your mind. If you have a problem with me fucking other girls or flirting with them, say it, but I'm warning you. When I finally fuck you, when I take your virginity, it will last for days. When I'm through with you, the neighbors will need a cigarette."
Holy hell.
Last for days? Can I handle that? Do I even want to?
Um, duh!
I hate my conscience sometimes.
"I-I don't—"
"Repeat after me, babygirl," he says with that sexy growl slithering off his tongue.
I want to kiss him so bad when he growls like that—like he's ready to rip my clothes from my body. "Daddy, I want to be the only person you touch or flirt with. You're mine and I'm yours."
Oh god. That whole statement holds so much weight.
Mine and yours.
"I want—"
He cuts me off. "No," he groans and gives me a displeased look. I don't like upsetting him.
I want him to be happy with me—only me.
How does that saying go? Every good girl wants a bad boy who will be good to her. That about sums it up.
He wants me to call him Daddy. I never even called my own father Daddy.
My heart races, speeding out of my chest, as his thumb runs across my lip.
"Say it. Say it, babygirl," he insists, a caring softness to his voice and his touch.
I'll say anything if he keeps touching me like this. "Daddy," I mumble, feeling both pride and discomfort at the word.
"Yes?" he rasps, desire thick in his sapphire eyes.
"I want to be the only person you touch or flirt with," I whisper, petrified to pop our twisted little bubble. A soft moan escapes before I say the words, "You're mine and I'm yours."
A sly smile appears on his face as he stares into my eyes. "Good girl."
Almost as if a cat residing in my chest purrs, my entire being swoons. My heart, my soul, my core. Everything screams I'll do anything for him to call me a good girl again. Desire and satisfaction explode in me.
"I really want to kiss you," he admits.
My chest throbs with demands.
"Do you want me to?"
The question raises the flicker of doubt in me. My past concerns roaring to life. "Yes and no," I confess.
"Why yes?" he demands.
My body reacts to the need in his voice, and I instinctively lean into him. "Because I really want you to kiss me."
"Why no?"
"Because it will feel like cheating," I say.
His eyes go nearly black. "You're not. Next reason?"
He wants to get to the root of the issue, which comes barreling out without my consent.
"I don't want to hurt him, and me wanting you will hurt him." The confession hurts me to the point of tears because I know it's an inevitable occurrence.
Duncan has been good to me, but Finn is... well, I'm not sure how to describe what's happening here.
"You can fight me if it will ease your guilt, but I really fucking need to kiss you." Then, his lips roughly mold to mine.
His lips move to the beat of my heart, pumping harder and faster than a marathon sprint. The slight hint of barley fills my mouth as his tongue breaks past the barrier of my lips, dancing along mine like a gypsy girl in full swing.
Holy fucking shit.
No one has ever kissed me the way Finn does. It's hard, demanding, and dominating. Finn takes what he wants and what he wants is me. My body caves, leaning into what he's giving me. His kisses are like a drug I fear I'll become addicted to. It's toxic and intoxicating.
I recognize the taste of cinnamon on his tongue as the barley fades and I'm more turned on than his words did to me last night.
Still, I follow his suggestion. I push against his chest, which is to no avail as I knew it would be, but I can't help pulling him closer. My fingers dig into his silky strands and pull him in.
I need to be fused to him. No space between us. Our clothes feel like too much, but—unlike last night—I'm consciously aware that this is as far as things can go. I'm not ready for more, even if my body demands it.
After a few swipes of his delicious tongue, I stop fighting and he yanks my body flush against his, another demanding growl radiating from his chest. Suddenly, he pulls out of the kiss, leaving my body in a state of lustful shock.
"Fuck," he drawls out before pulling me back to him, kissing me again.
I'm lost in him, my mind a hazy mess of need, and I almost don't notice when someone unzips the flap.
"Jesus, Francine!" I pull myself away from Finn quickly to see Nyla at the entrance.
"Ny, you scared me half to death!"
She scowls at me. "You're lucky it was me who came looking for you. Everyone is starting to ask questions. If you don't want your ex catching you making out with Loverboy over there, you need to get back. We have your birthday to celebrate, after all."
Don't remind me.
"It's your birthday?" Finn asks.
I'm tongue-tied.
"No, her birthday isn't until Wednesday, but we have to force her to celebrate it because she hates being fussed over."
I don't hate being fussed over. It's nice when my friends take notice of my birthday. It makes me feel special, but also reminds me that not even my own parents care about my birth.
I'm the girl without a family and nobody knows it except me and my parents.
"I should go," I say.
He pulls me in for one last knee-jerking, heart-stopping kiss. Then, he suggestively squeezes my ass. "I'll talk to you later, Princess," he rasps.
It takes everything in me to pull myself away from him. I want to stay there in his arms, but I know I have to face the music.
Duncan stares at me periodically through the day but doesn't speak to me. I wonder what's on his mind, but I don't ask. It's none of my business, anyway.
Instead, I focus on Finn. He doesn't know I'm watching behind my sunglasses. It might seem like I'm reading a book, but really, I'm watching the parade of groupies that approach him, but are quickly turned away.
He's planning to stick to what I asked him. I hope he can be successful. I have a lot riding on this—us.
The sun starts to set over the horizon as I help Willow, Ryleigh, and Nyla set up the girl's tent. We're finishing up when Duncan approaches.
"It looks good, ladies," he says nervously.
Nyla eyes me curiously before she looks in the direction of Finn's camp. I don't need to look. I know he's watching.
"Yeah, we know how to pitch a tent, Duncan. Thanks," Nyla sneers a bit unexpectedly.
I roll up the bag for the tent and walk toward the van with the bag, hoping to distance myself from the awkwardness everyone is detecting.
If Duncan wants to ignore my existence, that's his choice. I'll make it easier on him. I'll just go to bed early.
"Francine," Duncan utters as he walks up behind me.
I place the bag in the van before closing the trunk. "You can lock it up if no one else needs anything from the van," I say, unsure what else could fill the awkward silence.
He looks like there's something he wants to say, but he's not speaking, so I walk away, back to the camp.
"Wait. Francine, can we talk?" Duncan approaches me again.
I battle with myself. I know he wants to talk about us and I'm worried about what will happen if we do. Finn is watching this. No matter what I do, someone is getting hurt.
"Can we please no—" I say, my voice trembling with concern.
"No, please." Duncan grabs my arm and pulls me close to him. I panic, with a flashback of Finn's words running through my head.
I want to murder your boyfriend anytime he goes near you just because he might try to touch you.
I know Finn isn't going to do that, but it's the what-ifs that trigger me.
"Don't touch me," I warn him as I rip my arm from his grasp.
His brown eyes drop in sadness as his dirty blonde hair falls in his face. "I know I messed up. I shouldn't have accused you of something so stupid. It's completely ridiculous to think you would ever be with a guy like him."
My instinct is to cringe at how untrue his words are, but I fight it. I want to be with Finn, but Duncan has no idea. Duncan wants us to make up. Now that I'm single, I don't want that, but he looks so sad.
"What do you expect from me?" I ask as I cross my arms.
"What?"
"Do you want me to forgive you? Is that it?" Tears fill my eyes as I look at Duncan.
He seems just as torn as me, but in a different way. "Franny, I'm so sorry. I hate that I hurt you, and it's all my fault. You didn't do anything wrong."
Guilt.
Shame.
