Finally, You (The Finally Book Duo 2) Read online

  Finally, You

  By Roseanne Burke

  Text copyright © 2015 Roseanne Burke

  All Rights Reserved

  To the four beautiful women I am lucky enough to call my sisters: thank you for always showing me your love, and for helping shape me into the woman I am today.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 1

  August

  My eyes snapped open. By the look of the light peering in through the window, I would guess it was about seven twenty a.m.

  Time for Step One: Quickly take in my surroundings. I lay in a decently comfortable bed, with soft, light blue sheets. The ceiling above me was covered in white stucco; I focused on counting the dots as memories of the night before slowly filtered back into my brain. But remembering the previous night was part of Step Four, and I wasn't ready for that yet. Back to Step One. The room was filled with well-built, expensive looking furniture. I saw a clock on the bedside table to my left. Seven seventeen. I smiled to myself; I was pretty good at that.

  I looked to my right at the man next to me. Clean shaven, sandy blonde hair, good looking. Ok, I hadn't done bad. Not bad at all. He lay sleeping on his stomach, breathing soundly. Beyond him, I saw a collection of photographs on his nightstand. The large eight by ten with a silver frame caught my eye. Was that a wedding picture? I slowly sat up on my elbows, squinting. Oh shit, it was. Next to it was a plain white gold band. Had he been wearing that last night? Not time for that yet, Shannon.

  Time for Step Two: Get the hell out. I lifted the sheet carefully, eyeing my body. I still had my hot pink lacy strapless bra on, but nothing else. My eyes searched the floor. There were my clothes, strewn across the white rug. I shifted myself sideways and carefully slid off the bed. Mr. Blonde didn't stir. I tip toed quickly, retrieving my items, and found my Lucky Bag propped up against the dresser. I quietly grabbed it, pulling out the sports bra, exercise clothes, and gym shoes from inside. I held my breath, trying to get dressed as silently as possible. I slipped last night's clothes and heels into the Bag, and took one last look at Mr. Blonde before slipping out the bedroom door.

  Here's where things could get tricky. I had to revert back to Step One to quickly maneuver a way to the front door. I walked out into a hallway that overlooked the ground floor over a banister. Sunlight filled the entryway. Everything in the house seemed white or beige. No wonder he went searching for something else.

  My eyes scanned the first floor. Perfect, there's the door right there. I highly doubted anyone else was here. Obviously, this man was married; I would hope he wouldn't have brought a mistress home when his wife or any potential kids were there. I pictured the sweet and happy brunette from the wedding picture, watching her children play at her parents' house for the weekend, oblivious to her husband's actions.

  Oh well, not my problem. I hastily stepped down the carpeted stairs, folding my canvas Bag in half under my arm, and slipped out the door. The sun was shining brightly, and the air was warm, but not hot. An older man in a tattered bathrobe, shuffled down the driveway across the street for his newspaper. I felt his eyes on me, questioning my presence. Oops, again, not my problem. That's what you get for bringing a woman to your house, asshole.

  Time for Step Three: Figure out where the hell I am. I looked down at my phone, bringing up the Google Maps app. I entered in my address as the destination, watching the little blue circle spin until it found my current location. I really liked Step Three; it was kind of a game. How far away was I this time? I had a feeling I was a good distance from my downtown apartment. The neighborhood was lined with extravagant brick houses with perfectly manicured green lawns. Ooh, four point two miles. Nice, that was pretty good, almost a record. I started the route so my phone would give me the directions, put my phone in my bra, tucked my Bag under my arm, and took off.

  I loved summertime. I had the perfect opportunity to get exercise in, jogging home from one night stands. This was my usual routine these days; I had a complete system worked out. I would pack my Lucky Bag with exercise clothes for the next morning, so it never looked like I was taking the Walk of Shame. No one had ever asked me about it; it really just looked like an oversized purse, and it folded nicely under my arm as I jogged. So next time you see a woman out running at seven a.m. on a Sunday, you can question her motives.

  My feet pounded the pavement as the breeze whipped my shoulder-length blonde hair sideways. As I found my rhythm, I allowed Step Four to begin. I started to remember bits and pieces of the night before:

  "Hey there."

  I turned my head slightly to my right. "Hey," I smiled. I was in line for a drink at Vertigo, one of the busiest bars in downtown Forrester, Minnesota, where I had recently taken up residence.

  "What are you drinking tonight?" asked the tall handsome blonde man next to me. I caught a slight whiff of his expensive cologne, making me want to lean closer to smell it better.

  "Vodka soda, with a splash of lime. If I ever get served, that is." I turned to face Mr. Blonde, popping my hand to my hip, drumming my fingers against my dark jeans.

  He pulled out his wallet, shuffling through a stack of bills, retrieving a hundred dollar bill. "Let's take care of that," he said. He turned back to the bar, waving the money in his hand. I saw the twinkle in the male bartender's eye as he spotted it. He quickly finished pouring a drink and headed toward us.

  "What can I get for you?" he asked, taking the hundred and stuffing it in his back pocket.

  "Jack and coke, and a vodka soda with a lime for the lady."

  "Got it."

  Mr. Blonde turned to me. "So, what's your name?" he asked, his blue eyes running up and down my body, lingering on my cleavage that was popping out of my black halter top.

  "I don't know if I want to tell you that," I answered slyly.

  "Oh come on, I bought you a drink. I think that entitles me to your name."

  The bartender came back with our drinks.

  "Start a tab for me. The lady and I will be drinking here for a while," he said, glancing at me. He handed me my drink. I took it, staring up at him as I sipped. Mr. Blonde was used to getting his way. This could be fun.

  "Alright," said the bartender, moving on to the next customer.

  Mr. Blonde put his hand on my bare back and guided me through the crowd. "So, name?" He bent down and whispered in my ear, his breath warm against my skin.

  We walked a few steps further to an open cocktail table in a dark corner, away from the large crowd of people dancing. I rested my drink on it, running my finger around the rim. "Um, not yet. You can ask me something else though, if you'd like. You did buy me a drink." I blinked my lashes playfully at him.

  A smile curled around his lips, causing his eyes to wrinkle slightly. If I were to guess, I'd say he was late thirties, maybe early forties. A little older than my usual taste, but he had a sexy paternal presence about him. Plus, if he was going to buy me drinks all night...

  "Ok, what do you do for a living?" He brought his drink to his lips, then set the gl
ass down, never moving his eyes from mine.

  "I'm a flight attendant." Lie.

  I saw him shift, suddenly seeming more interested. "Oh yeah? Where are you based out of?"

  "Usually out of Phoenix. I'm actually just in town for tonight." More lies.

  I swear I saw a hunger flash across his eyes. "Well that's too bad. We should make the most of your visit here to Forrester." He lifted his glass, winking at me. Smooth. Real smooth.

  "Yes, we should. Am I in the right spot? Is this the best place to hang out?" I ran my hand up my side, playing coyly with the strap of my shirt. "Or should we go somewhere else?"

  "No, here is good for now. But maybe later we could go somewhere else, maybe a little more quiet, more private."

  "Well you're the expert. I'll follow your lead." My finger moved from my strap, intertwining itself with my hair. I looked up at him, biting my lower lip. This was too much fun.

  "You'd better drink up there. That cost me a pretty penny," he smiled.

  I giggled, playfully patting his forearm. "Yes, thank you for the drink. You know how to show a woman a good time."

  I brought the glass to my lips. What he didn't know, was that I had already taken three shots of tequila before coming here. I wouldn't need as many drinks as he thought to get me drunk. That was one of the perks of being a bartender. I could pregame at work before going out.

  "Well I'd love to show you an even better time." He reached his hand around the small of my back again. Mr. Blonde was quickly becoming Mr. Handsy. But I was ok with it.

  "I'd love that too," I smiled. I took a large gulp of my drink. Let's get this going, I thought. "Looks like I may need another one here, soon."

  "I'll get right on that, Sweetness. Don't go anywhere." He kept his eyes locked on mine until he arrived back at the bar. Sweetness, that was a new one.

  On a scale of one to ten, he was a good eight. He was handsome, rich, and gullible. I found myself wondering whether or not he had a big dick. One could reason he was over-compensating for something with the money and smooth lines. Or, he could just be that cocky because he had a big... well, you know. Either way, I had decided I was going to find out. And it had taken nearly zero effort on my part to hook him; that was the best part of all of this.

  I watched him walk back in my direction, drinks in hand. I felt a tingling sensation below, watching him step toward me with such determination. This had the potential to get really hot.

  "Here you are, Sweetness," he purred, handing me my drink. "And the waitress will be by with a couple shots of Patron here, soon."

  "Oh my god, tequila! I can't do tequila, I'll get so drunk!" I cried.

  His hand found its place again at the small of my back. It felt broad and sturdy against my skin. "Oh, I bet you'll be ok. Will you do it for me?"

  I brought my finger to my mouth, running it over my lip. I scrunched my nose, pretending to have a debate in my head. "Ok, fine. For you."

  His sexy smile found its way back to his face. "Good girl." Could he sense the age difference too? Not that it was a problem by any means.

  As if on cue, the waitress showed up, setting the shots with lime slices on the table with a bored look on her face. I bet she was used to seeing hot younger women being swept away by rich older men. He picked one up, handing it to me, before bringing up the other.

  "To a night without regrets," he said, clinking his glass with mine. I smiled, then slammed the shot back. I grabbed my lime, placing it between my teeth. Oh yeah, I'm not supposed to like this.

  I forced myself to cough. "Oh my god, I can't believe I did that!"

  He laughed, wrapping his arm around my back again. "See, was that so bad?"

  "Oh my god, yes!" I cried. "Tequila makes me do crazy things!"

  His eyes darkened with my words. God, he was really too easy.

  "So," I said, sucking the remaining lime juice off my thumb. "What do you do for a living?"

  "I'm the CFO at St. Mary's hospital, here in Forrester."

  Idiot. Why would you give such a detailed answer? Always be vague, that was my mantra. Actually, always be vague while lying, was really what it was.

  "Ooh, that sounds impressive," I smiled, attempting to stroke his ego.

  "Well, I suppose it is," he replied, finishing off his Jack and coke. "So, what else are you willing to tell me about yourself?" His thumb started rubbing in circles on my satin shirt.

  What else could I make up? What sort of asinine detail would be believable?

  "Um, I was a cheerleader in high school." I popped my left foot on its toe, swinging my knee side to side.

  "A cheerleader, huh?"

  I nodded, smiling.

  "I like the sound of that."

  I giggled. "And I bet you were a football player, right? Or were you a little nerdy?"

  He laughed. "I guess I was pretty nerdy, but that's why I'm now so successful. That's why now I can get women like you."

  "Women like me? What's that supposed to mean?" I asked playfully.

  He tightened his grip on my back. "Really fucking sexy."

  I peered up at him, the scent of liquor emanating from his mouth. I closed my eyes as his lips pressed against mine. I felt warmth spreading throughout my body. His mouth was hungry and powerful. I felt his other hand wrap around the back of my head, pulling me closer, his tongue demanding its way into my mouth. I walked my fingers down his stomach, resting them in his belt loops. I honestly didn't care that we were surrounded by people; this was hot.

  He pulled back slightly. "Not here. Let's go somewhere else."

  "Where to?" I asked, trying to regulate my breathing, placing my Lucky Bag under my arm.

  "My house." He grabbed my hand, looking around the room before leading me to the exit. I smiled, following him willingly. I loved when someone suggested we go back to their house or apartment, so I didn't have to think up some excuse why we couldn't go to my place. There was absolutely no way in hell I would ever bring anyone there. That was my one hard and fast rule.

  We stepped out into the warm summer night. He brought his keys out of his pocket, and I heard the chirp of his car unlocking. The lights on his black Mercedes blinked twice.

  "No, we need to take a cab," I said, sliding my hand up his inner arm.

  He paused, looking down at me. "I'm good, I only had those two drinks."

  "I'm sorry. It's kind of a thing of mine. I'll never get into a car with someone who's been drinking." I tried to fashion a sad, distant look in my eye. I knew it was a good idea never to get in a car with people who had been drinking, but my true reasoning for wanting a cab was more about knocking the other person off balance. If they drove their car, they had more control, whereas a cab was nice, neutral territory. Plus, then I couldn't be driven to an empty lot and murdered. I found that if I pretended like something dark had happened in my past, they would be more apt to bend to my rule.

  He placed his hand under my chin, bringing my lips to his. "You got it, Sweetness."

  I smiled at him. "Thank you. That really means so much to me."

  We made our way toward the busy street, and climbed into a waiting cab. He wrapped his arm around me, bringing my lips back to his. I felt myself getting wetter by the second as his hands gripped my sides, pulling me on top to straddle him. I could feel the cabbie's eyes on us in the rearview mirror, but I honestly didn't care. I cupped his face in my hands, feeling his tongue swirl with mine. As a kisser, I'd have to give him an eight point five. Maybe even a nine; he was quite decent.

  We slid together sideways as the cab turned a corner, causing his grip on me to tighten.

  "How much further?" I asked, pulling back slightly.

  "Not far, maybe five more minutes," Mr. Blonde answered, greedily bringing my mouth back to his. I wanted to rip his pants off right there in the car, but I somehow still had some self restraint. I grabbed his hands from my back, shifting them to my front. His thumbs rolled over my smooth skin, down and over my shirt. My fingers found his b
elt loops again, pulling him closer. I felt a rock hard bulge growing beneath me. Excellent.

  I broke our kiss, planting my lips along his jaw line, down his neck. I heard him groan in my ear. I reached my hand down between my legs, rubbing him through his pants. If I had to guess, just from feel, maybe a seven out of ten? I'd have to see it to be sure.

  "Ah-hem," coughed the driver as we pulled into the driveway.

  I slid off him, giggling. He looked nervously out the window as he paid.

  "Let's get inside, Sweetness."

  "Let's."

  He led me into the house and brought my mouth back to his as soon as he closed the door. He pinned me up against it, shoving my arms above my head. I pressed my hips forward toward him, wanting to feel more of that hard bulge I had felt earlier.

  I turned my head to the side as his mouth moved to my neck. "I want you," I breathed.

  "Oh Sweetness, I want you. Let's go upstairs," he growled, gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing me to face him.

  I nodded, biting my lower lip. He kissed me deeply, then pulled back and led me up the stairs by my hand. We arrived in the bedroom, and I quietly set my Bag down against a dresser. He pulled me to him, ripping my shirt off over my head.

  "Pink? I like this. Let's keep this on," he smiled. His tongue licked down my neck and over the top of my breasts as I ran my fingers through his hair. His hands moved quickly to my jeans, unbuttoning them and forcing them to the floor. He ran his fingers up my inner thigh, causing goosebumps to appear on my skin. He reached the apex, rubbing me through my matching pink panties. His finger looped around the band, slowly pulling them down. I felt the wetness of them rub off on my thighs and calves until he helped me step out of them.

  He slowly stood back up to face me, planting kisses up my torso along the way. I reached my hands to his shirt, quickly undoing his buttons. He had a smattering of chest hair, but a decently in shape body. He removed his arms from his sleeves as I unbuttoned and took off his pants. Navy blue boxer briefs were all that were separating me from a hot fuck.