Igniting the Wild Sparks by Ren Alexander

tugs my hand forward. “Yep. I have to mix it up to keep you guessing.”
    After the kite festival, Rod did say, “Multiplicity is the seasoning of existing.” This coming from a guy who thought I was nicknamed after a beer, and who once referred to quickie sex as a Jiffy Pop.
    Finn shakes his head and regards me pensively. “You always keep me guessing, Becks.” Is that a good thing or not?
    We reach the mini Statue of Liberty where he shot his recent promo and all is quiet. Leading us over to the base of the sculpture, he sets down the dinner bag, and sits, smoothly marshaling me down with him. I try to move off his leg, but he holds onto me tightly so I can’t go anywhere. Looking around us, he suspiciously asks, “What? No chaperone following you?”
    I giggle and again try to stand. “No. I’m a big girl.” I’m surprised I really wasn’t followed. Covertly, I shift my gaze around the area just in case I’m wrong and Rod or Morgan are lurking in the shadows.
    Finn sweeps my hair from the side of my neck and bends to run his nose along my skin. Every nerve ending in my body jumps right to attention. His hand on my thigh slowly trails down to the hem of my dress and he tucks his fingers beneath the material, warming my goose-bumped skin.
    “What’s wrong, Becks?” Sparks smoothly taunts me, pushing my dress up as his fingers perilously travel along my leg. The bastard knows exactly “what’s wrong.” He can probably even feel me getting wet through my dress. He pulls me closer, coercing me to feel how much he’s starting to enjoy this as well.
    He whispers against my neck as he edges to my jaw. “Do you know what you do to me?”
    I bite my lip so I don’t moan. I refuse to lose my willpower. “Finn, I think any woman sitting on your lap would do the same thing.”
    His fingers dig into my thigh , clutching me firmly as his thumbs skim over my skin. My underwear is nearly exposed. “No, Hadley. Just you. You don’t even have to sit on my lap. All you have to do is breathe.”
    Shit. He’s not doing this to me. I have to be strong and stand my ground.
    Then again, I unequivocally want to fuck him right here in front of Lady Liberty—well, a decent, miniature replica.
    Finn’s tongue slides along my throat. I’m positive he can feel my pulse pounding underneath me. When his hand reaches my hip underneath my dress, I jump up, surprising both of us.
    “Sparks,” I plead, pulling my dress down as I pace away from him. He’s well aware that he’s my weakness, which annoys me he’d even attempt this. When I spin around to look at him, his head is bowed. I knew we shouldn’t have tried being together tonight.
    Sighing, he raises his head, clasping his hands together between his knees. His glum, brown eyes flicker from the nearby park lights that have come on at dusk. “I wish I could be sorry, but I’m not.”
    Melting from his rapt stare, I give him my own sigh and slowly walk back to the statue. “Can we just eat?”
    His look is unrelenting, undecided maybe, for a few seconds before he reluctantly twists and reaches into the paper bag. My shoulders instinctively slump in relief and I take my seat next to him, but this time, more aware of the distance I put between us. He’s not making this time apart any easier for either of us.
    Finn hands me my plastic takeout bowl and I carefully peel off the lid, vigilant to not get tomato sauce on my dress. I take a bite of my lasagna and gaze out at the southern view of Richmond, overlooking the James River in the distance. Why is Finn acting so differently now than he did at practice after our kiss? He proceeded as if he’d rather lick home plate clean than to give me any more attention in front of the team.
    “What are you thinking about?” Sparks’ voice startles me and I nearly drop my food onto my shoes. I tilt my head to look at him, and see trepidation evident on his face.
    “Nothing really,” I lie, but not sure the reason. “