Lyra Parish - Weak for Him

I didn't want to. I wanted to yell at him, tell him to get the fuck out, and stay away from me until my contract expired. But the look on his face pulled me from my rage. As much as I wanted to hate him, I couldn't. Fucking weak for him.

I sighed and swallowed. "I shouldn't have to feel like this."

Finn kicked his shoes off, crawled on the bed, and placed his hands behind his head. Then, he had the audacity to laugh. Not one of those fake ones, but a deep, hearty genuine laugh. I elbowed him in his stomach, but he didn't stop with that contagious laugh that stood out so brilliantly when we first met. The one that could make anyone join in, even the saddest person in the world.

"What's so damn funny?"

"Nothing." More laughter.

I grumbled.

He rubbed his hand across my back and placed his chin on my shoulder and we spooned.

"You can't stay mad at me forever, you know?"

"Yes, I fucking can."

He placed his arm around my stomach and held me. Minutes passed, hours even, and we stayed there, in that spot with one another. Mr. Sandman visited me, and in my dreams, I imagined Finn and me sleeping that way forever. But I wanted him to leave. I wanted him to get the fuck out.

When I woke, he lightly snored in my ear. I tore his arm from my tummy and rolled over to stare at him. Although the darkness continued to linger, strips of moonlight stretched across the floor.

Peacefulness covered his face.

No lifted eyebrow, no half-smile, just beautiful lips and strong jawline. Eyelashes that seemed to go on for days and scruffiness on the chin with messy hair made up this fallen angel of a man. No one this picturesque really existed. But he did.

I sucked in a deep breath as I memorized every inch of his face. My body ached for him and hated him all at the same time as he lay beside me in dreamland.

Who the fuck do you think you are, Finnley Felton?

His eyelashes fluttered, and shiny eyes, the color of green grass in the summer, stared into mine. He inched his body closer, removing the gap of space between our lips. Our mouths were close, and his intoxicating breath and scent encapsulated me. Just an inch and we would kiss, just one little movement, and we would be as one. But I didn't dare. I couldn't keep putting myself in the line of fire. His hand traced my jawline, and he grabbed the bottom of my chin and paused.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked, softly, gently sliding his lips on the outside of mine and then he kissed me. My mind dizzied, and I thought I might melt into his inebriating taste. At first, I didn't kiss back and then I lost myself in the sensation of his softness. The sensation of him, which I missed and craved, rolled through my body and when I opened my eyes, I thought I saw stars. Every bit of Finnley, the man that seemed too much at times and the one that I could not get enough of at others, melded with me.

He didn't continue, or try to undress me and make me his whore. Instead, he lay next to me, twirling my hair in his fingers, kissing my cheeks, rubbing his nose against mine without saying one word. Words never could replace emotions, no matter how powerful or well written. I'd once heard that words could move mountains, but so could Finn's lips.

Finnley continued to poison me with his light touch, which caused me to instinctively part my lips, tilt my head ever so slightly, and close my eyes. His lips found mine again as if they were long lost lovers, and danced. This, I thought, would be the end of me, as he nibbled on my bottom lip between smiles.

The addictive, forbidden kisses would be what destroyed me from the inside out. I snuggled into him as much as I tried not to, and we fell asleep.

Smells of freshly roasted coffee beans and sugar filled the room as Finn sipped and stood at the window, watching the sunrise. I watched him from behind—taking in every muscle and curve of his body in tattered jeans and a T-shirt—as he drank. A smile crossed my face as I snuggled into the feathery blanket. He turned around when I moved, and I closed my eyes quickly.

I heard him set the coffee on the little table next to the bed, then his hand touched my head, and his lips on my forehead. I opened my eyes as he pulled away.

"Good morning," he said. "My mother used to say that a person could kiss away fever."

"Really?"

He nodded his head and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Are you feeling better?"

I sat up, and he handed me a cup of tea. Blueberries and honey hit my lips and warmed my soul.

"We need to talk," he said. He was all business.

After clearing his throat, he continued. "Luke called. He's very worried. Since you are his, currently , he asked if he could visit. I told him that would be your choice whether to see him or not. My answer is…"

"Yes. That will be fine," I said.

"All right."

Finn stood, gave a smile, and walked down the stairs. When the door opened, Luke appeared.

"I waited downstairs because I knew you'd see me." Luke came to me, and hugged my neck. His jaw clenched when he caught sight of me and he released a long breath.

"I will kill the little bastard who did this to you. You could have died."

"Yeah. That's what they tell me. How did your painting go? Good I hope?"

He pulled his phone from his pocket and showed me the picture of the finished product. Luke had outdone himself. A huge green pasture with a nice yellow and pink sky sunset spread behind it. On the far corner sat a farmhouse, a barn, and various colored horses: paints, Arabians, and palominos.

"You can scroll through."

On the porch, a woman with golden brown skin, and sunlight reflecting on her brown hair.

"Oh god. That's me, again . You always make me look so pretty."

He had painted me in cowboy boots, tight blue jeans, with my arms crossed, smiling while leaning against the railing. On the bottom of the picture in a cursive script, read Pioneer Woman . The grass blew in the breeze, and the background went on for miles. I felt as if I had traveled back to the house, and I was looking at it directly. The shadowing, coloring, everything was perfect. He even added a few oil derricks in the background to give it that Texas oil look.

"I tried to remember the time we shared. The company said they wanted a picture with a country feel to it, pioneerish. While I was gone, I couldn't stop thinking about you and the house. Now everyone around the world can appreciate you both."

I blushed.

"It's beautiful. I… I just don't know what to say other than thank you. The things you can do with paint. It's unbelievable."

I handed back his phone, and he grabbed my neck and hugged me.

"I was really worried."

I pulled away and looked into his eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere. Seriously, everyone is making a big deal about it. I'm fine."

Luke lifted his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders.

"If you say so."

The door cracked open, and Finn walked in with Abbie trailing behind him like a puppy with her tail between her legs. Sickening.

They all sat on the side of the bed, and the silence dragged on.

Luke said his goodbyes and Finnley walked him out, leaving me alone with the girl I once trusted with all of my secrets. The only person still alive that knew every detail about me, but I didn't speak first because I had nothing to say.

"I didn't tell him, you know. About your parents."

She knew how to get me talking.

"I didn't think you would."

"We didn't have sex."

The word "sex" made my blood boil. The thought of them in the basement, her bent over the bed with her ass in the air waiting for him to take her, made me sick. If I wouldn't have walked in, they would have gone through with it, and if I wouldn't have woken up, it may have went on for days. Would she have told me she fucked my boss?