Talk to Me

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Book: Read Talk to Me for Free Online
Authors: Clare James
Tags: Romance, Mystery, new adult, Reporter, love, Football, nhl
said. “I need to get some supplies.”
    It was a perfect time for me to snoop, but I didn’t want to drip blood all over the place, so I waited, studying each inch of his home within my line of sight.
    “This is going to sting,” Finn said as he dumped out the contents of his first aid kit and opened the bottle of antiseptic. “Can you handle it?”
    I didn’t want to admit it, but I was terrible with pain. And blood. I tried to divert my eyes because I knew if I caught a glimpse of my injury, I’d probably throw up. I could feel the saliva pooling in my mouth as it was.
    “Maybe a shot of whiskey or something first?” I asked. “That should take care of it.”
    “Sorry, Casey.” He smiled, lightly rubbing the inside of my calf. “This is a dry house.”
    “Really?” I asked, shocked. Finn had quite the reputation for partying. He was always a tabloid favorite. During the hockey season, the weekend gossip programs usually included at least one of Finn’s shenanigans.
    “That’s not what I’ve heard,” I said without realizing it. Shit! My reporter mind had lost its censor. I’d broken the cardinal rule: Never let the subject know what you know. It was crucial for uncovering these types of stories. I wasn’t supposed to know (or care) about Finn’s past. My objective here was to simply begin gaining his trust.
    “Really?” he asked — his question laced with an undercurrent of heat. “Well, don’t believe everything you read.”
    “Sorry.” I tried to recover. “I didn’t mean—”
    Finn busied himself with the first aid kit. It was a move designed to create some distance, but I could feel his brain working.
    I desperately needed to defuse this situation pronto, but his laughter interrupted me.
    “Ah, I get it now.” He shook his head.
    He stopped then, for a fraction too long.
    That should’ve been my warning. My warning to run. Because what happened next, well, that could never be undone.

Chapter 10

    Finn

    In my seat across from Kiki, I smiled, thinking about that first time Casey showed up at the house. But I would never utter a word of that little episode to anyone. Ever.
    Three chance meetings. Yes, I might have been on the new age train, but not even I believed that three chance meetings could be a coincidence or destiny or whatever. This girl was playing me in some way. I knew it. She’d come here to offer up favors for bragging rights. Another Puck Bunny preparing for the season. I bet Nate talked Gina into it.
    I didn’t want to believe it at first, but realized it had to be Gina who sent her. And as much as I wanted Casey here, this new development was disheartening. Casey Scott did not seem like the type to hang with Gina’s crowd. But she came here for one reason, and I guess it was time to give it to her.
    Shit knows, I needed it.
    “It’s no accident that you just happened to be riding your bike past my house, is it?” I asked, fighting the urge to just take her right there. “No accident that we keeping running into each other?”
    “What do you mean?” she asked. Her voice was shaking, like maybe it was her first time doing something like this.
    Well, I’d just have to make it extra memorable then.
    Damn, it’d been so long since I’d done anything like this. I know my doc wouldn’t approve, but I was trying. The acupuncture, the exercise, the fucking tea. Nothing was helping where this girl was concerned.
    I just needed to do it and get her out of my system.
    Casey was trying to take control — the beautiful art of seduction. She started to slide down the counter. I wasn’t going to have it.
    I flipped her back up onto the countertop and leaned in to smell her. She didn’t smell sweet like most girls who had come out to the house. Her scent was musk and spice and shit, I couldn’t think straight.
    This girl just might be the death of me. I had to get closer.
    I maneuvered between her scraped legs, careful not to rub up against them. Her eyes grew wide.

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