Free A Fine Mess (Over the Top) by Kelly Siskind

a shit-ton of money to hang a samurai sword in my loft, because… samurai sword . This thing with Lily is testing my willpower.
    Her body quakes then, a shiver running from head to toe. Unable to stand by while she acquires frostbite, I grab her elbow and haul her in front of me. I pull her back against my chest and wrap my arms around her. It feels as good as always—the fit of her body tucked into mine. I still want to explore the length of her, every sexy inch, but I could stay here, too. Wrapped together while the cold whips around us. Then her ass presses into my groin, and I have to restrain myself from grinding into her.
    Self-control at DEFCON 3.
    “Why didn’t you cancel?” I ask.
    She doesn’t answer. Her breathing halts. I hug her tighter, my chin resting on her black knit hat. She sighs. “It was too late to get my deposit back, and I think it’ll be good for me. It’s been a rough week.”
    Crunching tires overpower her last words, but I hear them.
    A rough week, because of me.
    My plan was to keep my distance last night, avoid my usual teasing games. Enter Ethan fucking Goldstein. I like the dude, and he’s a great manager, but I’m not one for sharing. Finn’s favorite childhood story is the one where I turned the local sandbox into a WWE ring. Some pudgy kid wanted to play with my Tonka truck. He asked once, I said no. He tried to pull it away, and I slapped his hand, chanting, “Mine, mine, mine.” The little shit was persistent. When he came my way again, I clotheslined the fucker and sat on his chest, a final mine spit on his face.
    Last night, when Ethan’s hand slid toward Lily’s ass, all I could picture was me spear-launching into the guy, followed by a pile driver or vertical suplex, anything to knock him out cold, my WWE title reclaimed. Because: mine, mine, mine . Instead I coaxed Lily away and told her the truth. Now I want her more, and it’s making things harder for both of us. Still, I’m not sure a beautiful girl going to a strange place on her own is the solution.
    “You sure it’s safe?” I ask.
    She stops shivering and nestles deeper into my chest. “Yeah. San Pedro Island is pretty touristy. I’m looking forward to it,” she adds with less conviction.
    I know Lily too well to believe her. The quiver in her voice has nothing to do with the temperature. The way her shyness takes over at times, a trip like this isn’t exactly in her wheelhouse. Who am I to stop her, though?
    An Audi drives by, the last of a line of cars. She disentangles herself from me, grabs my hand, and drags me across the street. We push into a shop crammed with merchandise—chairs and tables and knickknacks filling every square inch. She pulls off her hat. “Remind me why we aren’t at a toy store looking for gifts for your nieces. Wouldn’t most five-year-olds prefer dolls?” She rubs her red cheeks and shakes out her hair.
    I wrinkle my nose, the smell of baby powder and mothballs pushing my gag reflex into gear. “The twins have more shit than they need. I want to get them something special, and you always have cool things from these antique places. But you have to choose. I’m no good with this stuff.”
    “Okay.” Her gaze coasts over lamps and chandeliers as a ginger cat rubs against her legs. Lucky kitty.
    I watch the ball of fur grind against her, jealous of a fucking feline. But sliding along her slim calves wouldn’t be enough to ease my itch. Frustrated, I stab my hand through my hair. The store stretches farther than I can see, an archway to our right leading into a separate room, and a cobweb across the space confirms we’re the first shoppers this century.
    “Don’t mind Caesar,” a gravelly voice calls. A wheeze follows a phlegmy cough, but no one appears. “He’s harmless…as long as you don’t let him rub against your leg,” says the bodiless voice.
    Lily freezes and glances down at Caesar doing figure eights around her jeans.
    “ You brought me here,” I