Scandalous-nook
Authors: RG Alexander
Scandalous
The Finn Factor
, Book 2
R.G. Alexander
Scandalous
Copyright 2015 R.G. Alexander
Editing by D.S. Editing
Formatted by
IRONHORSE Formatting
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no
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system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright
owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents
are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author
acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced
in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use
of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark
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Dedication
To Cookie--Love is the reason
To my Robin L. Rotham for always being there, though her life is full of prom games
and drum lessons, band practice and life. You think I can do this without you, but
you're wrong.
To all the people who love the Finns. THANK YOU. I can't wait for us to find out what
happens to all of them.
You are the reason I write.
Author’s Note
I hope you enjoy Tasha and Stephen's story.
Be on the look for Brady Finn to get his man in Dangerous, coming soon!
Table of Contents
The Billionaire Bachelors Series
Other Books from R.G. Alexander
Tasha pressed her back against the door of the senator’s downtown office and took
in his lean silhouette. He was standing at the windows, sunlight outlining his broad
shoulders and bent head. With his back to her, he talked softly into his cell, so
focused on the phone call she wasn’t even sure he’d heard her come in.
His distraction gave her time to catch her breath and soothe the butterflies in her
stomach that had no business being there in the first place. How many years, how many
decades
, would have to pass before her knees stopped wobbling at the sight of the sexy, six-foot-two
scoop of vanilla that was Stephen Finn?
Damn the man. What was it about him that did this to her?
He was undeniably handsome, but she knew a lot of handsome men. He was smart. A popular
state senator who wasn’t afraid to deal with the tough issues and fight—even against
his own party—for what he believed in. But she was no political groupie. He had status
in the state. An aura of authority that made people instinctively trust him, but what
usually turned her on was a different sort of power exchange.
The kinky kind that Senator Finn didn’t understand.
She’d topped some lovely submissives and been topped by some truly talented dominants.
She’d dated a handful of entertaining men in the lifestyle over the years, and even
indulged in semi-regular threesomes with her best friend Jeremy, before he and Owen
Finn had given in to each other and become exclusive. Her life was so jam-packed with
adventures in sin that she could write a Natasha Rivera tell-all memoir thick enough
to hold open a damn door. And she was only thirty-five.
But one look at Stephen and none of that mattered. One look and suddenly she was an
inexperienced schoolgirl with more hormones than brain cells again. Vulnerable and
needy.
It made absolutely no sense. It never had.
He wasn’t wearing his usual suit—the one she was always tempted to wrinkle or snag
or spill a drink on so he wouldn’t look so unapproachable and uptight. Today he’d
replaced it with a button-down navy shirt that would bring out the blue of his eyes.
It was still a little formal for a Saturday, but his sleeves were rolled up and the
hem was only loosely tucked into his fitted khaki pants. For Stephen that was as casual
as he was likely to get.
It occurred to her that she hadn’t seen him in jeans since they were in school, which
was probably for the best since he was truly dangerous in denim. They highlighted
two of her favorite features. His strong thighs and that sweet, squeezable ass.
Stephen lowered the phone and stared out the window, his broad shoulders tense. Long
seconds and then minutes ticked by without his moving or saying a word. She shifted
impatiently and her sundress rustled. Nothing. She sighed and he still didn’t look
her way.
Tasha could take a lot of torture when she chose, from nipple clamps to floggers and
even the occasional
Lifetime
movie marathon, but she’d never been good at being ignored. He’d demanded her presence—sent
a man to her door to collect her—the least he could do was acknowledge it.
“Did you have me abducted by the Marines so I could tell you how those pants fit your
ass, or did you want me for something in particular?” she drawled in a light sarcastic
tone.
Stephen looked over his shoulder with an enigmatic expression. There was no surprise
when he saw her, and his smile was distracted but genuine. Potent as ever. “Sorry
about that. My phone’s been ringing all morning. That was the first moment of peace
I’ve had today.” He turned toward her. “It’s good to see you, Natasha. I wasn’t sure
Brady could convince you to meet with me.”
She swallowed hard at the sound of his voice. It was a rich baritone meant for late-night
radio or bedroom seduction. Deep and confident. He could read the phone book during
debates and still win—it was that mesmerizing.
“I wasn’t informed I had an option.”
And though she’d complained, she hadn’t refused the invitation because—and this was
something she was never going to admit to Stephen out loud—she’d missed him. They
hadn’t seen each other since that morning at Jeremy’s, when the Finns descended in
a show of familial solidarity after Jen’s ex tried his hand at blackmail. Thank God
he’d been as bad at it as he was at everything else. The attempt had been so botched
it was almost comical, but the repercussions to the family had been all too real.
Stephen had been rumpled then too. Rumpled, apologetic and confusingly affectionate.
He’d kissed her breathless against the siding of Jeremy’s lakeside home, apologizing
for getting her caught up in the drama and informing her they needed to have a serious
talk. Soon.
It was six months later and “soon” still hadn’t arrived. Six months of silence that
she supposed should tell her all she needed to know.
Tasha frowned. Why did it matter how long it had been? She and Stephen weren’t the
sort of friends who caught up weekly over coffee. They didn’t swap emails or have
a standing lunch date that he’d neglected to keep. So he hadn’t texted or emailed—so
what? They’d never had that kind of relationship. Nothing had changed.
And yet everything had changed. Stephen’s family now knew he and Tasha occasionally
got together for no-strings sex, something they’d successfully kept secret from everyone
for sixteen years. They’d been outed because one reckless moment in the backseat of
Stephen’s car had been recorded on a camera phone, and it had almost ruined his spotless
reputation. Since then she’d had no idea where they stood. No idea what to expect.
And the great communicator standing in front of her hadn’t bothered filling her in.
She tilted her head until her curls bounced against her bare shoulder. “Why am I here,
Senator? What is it you want?”
Thickly lashed blue eyes took her in from the mass of dark hair she hadn’t bothered
to tame to her sandaled feet and back, pausing long enough at her neckline for her
to wonder if he wanted what he always wanted. What they both always wanted. But her
upstanding senator wouldn’t dare. Not here in his office in broad daylight.
“Loaded question,” he murmured, walking toward her. His movements were slow and determined.
Decisive and controlled. She knew he didn’t intend them to be seductive, but they
were to her. Because she was pathetic.
He stopped a few feet away. “That’s a lovely dress. Why do I get the feeling I’m interrupting
your Saturday plans?”
The white eyelet sundress was her sassy homage to Stephen Finn’s pristine image. The
color was stark against her darker skin and the style was modest, though too snug
across her chest to be considered appropriate. A passive aggressive fashion decision
on her part for this command performance, and one she’d had no doubt he’d notice—he
was definitely a breast man.
“In a perfect world,” she parried, “my Saturday plans would include opening my eyes
around noon, naked in bed as I told my just as naked companion how I take my coffee
with cream, brown sugar and a full body massage.”
Stephen was frowning. “You had company?”
“It’s not a perfect world, Senator.” She smiled. “If it were, you’d be out of a job.
In
this
world, your super-sized cousin, Brady Linebacker Finn, showed up at my door—not with
coffee and a plate of aspirin to soothe the angry hangover gods, but with a summons
to a tête-à-tête with my state representative. If you do this with every eligible
voter, I’m not surprised you’re so busy. And I didn’t even know he was working for
you. When did he get back?”
“A few months ago. Hangover gods?” His frown disappeared, his eyes sparkling with
humor. “It must have been some night. How late did you get home?”
“It wasn’t late at all,” she purred. “In fact, it was early. Nothing like going to
bed with the sunrise.”
Stephen put his hands behind his back, studying the bare skin of her arms and throat.
He wanted to touch her. She could see it in his eyes. Why was he hesitating?
“Were you at your usual club event, or out with someone in particular?”
“My usual club event?” She shook her head ruefully, her own palms pressed against
the door so she wouldn’t reach for him. “Only a politician could make a night of whips
and chains sound like a church bake sale. And not to be rude, honey, but what’s with
the cross-examination? Since when were my Friday nights ever your business?”
“You’re right, of course.” He dipped his chin in acknowledgment and apology, taking
one step closer. Invading her space with his heat and his clean, masculine scent.
The closer he got, the harder it was for her to concentrate. “It wasn’t my intention
to pry.”
What
was
his intention? If this had been one of their usual meetings there’d be no talking
and they’d be halfway to naked by now. But there was nothing usual about this visit.
“There was a collaring ceremony.” It just slipped out. “And wine. A lot of wine.”
Why had she felt compelled to tell him that?
“Sounds…interesting.”
Tasha sighed. It
had
been romantic, but he wouldn’t understand that because when he wasn’t with her, Stephen
was a bit of a prude. A sexy prude who was far too handsome for his own good. Strong
cheekbones, chiseled features, and a bright white smile that were all made for the
camera. Without that rakish scar on his chin, he would have been too perfect. The
good news was that if his career in politics went bust, he could walk onto the set
of any soap opera and be hired on the spot.
Her gaze lingered on the shadow of stubble on his jaw and chin. No tie, he hadn’t
shaved before coming to his office, and there was a hint of strain around his mouth
and eyes. This definitely wasn’t an emergency hook-up call. Something was off.