My heart stops beating. Stops. Just like that. Until the possibilities of what he says sends it speeding ahead. “Are you bi?” I squeak.
Oh, man, and there’s that heat surging between us again, tightening all my important parts. “Not even a little bit,” he answers, his voice heavy and low.
Okay. While I admit I now have hope, and am more than a little horny, that doesn’t mean I’m any less confused. “Then why did it seem like you needed to get away from me?”
“Because I did,” he admits. He rubs his face hard. “Look, this isn’t easy for me to talk about, especially with you.”
“All right,” I begin, only for him to cut me off again.
“But I want to. I want to make it right.”
That’s what he seems to insist, but he takes his time to explain. “When you had me in your mouth, I felt the heat from your body, your tongue, and how hard you were working me.”
Well, we’re just putting it all out there, aren’t we? My body warms as I remember, causing me to involuntarily shudder with desire. But it’s the sadness trailing along his form that clutches me hard and doesn’t let go. “That’s not a good thing. Is it?” I ask.
As his features tighten further, I realize it’s not, but to hear it is something entirely different. “I usually zone out when it happens, but I couldn’t zone out with you.” He shrugs. “That’s why I told Mason. Like I said, I wasn’t bragging. I’m just trying to figure this shit out, you feel me?”
Actually, I do. The frustrated almost-girlfriend in me eases away, allowing the grad student forward. It doesn’t seem fair that you can’t be your own patient, especially when it matters. But while I couldn’t be there for me, I can be here for Finn. “Is this a control thing?” I ask. “Something you need to feel when you’re intimate with someone?”
“Yeah.”
“Every time?” I question.
At his nod, I try not to think what this stems from, but I do. I try not let that awful feeling digging its way into my chest scrape against my heart, but it does. I try to beat back the nausea and fear. Regardless, it all comes. Someone who needs to feel in control all the time is someone who has suffered severe abuse, sometimes physical, but the majority of times―especially given the circumstances―it’s sexual.
Cold sweat pours down my spine. Someone hurt Finn. Someone . . . raped him.
“Hey,” he says, his hands cupping my face. “You okay? You don’t look good.”
I don’t need a mirror to know he’s right. But it’s my forming tears that clue him in that I know what happened. His hands fall away from me, a look of horror finding its way into his blanching features.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice cracking.
His chest rises and falls quickly. He knows what I’m saying, it’s that obvious. “I’m so sorry,” I repeat.
He wrenches away from me, throwing the door open and placing a foot out. “Finn,” I say. “Please don’t go.”
He freezes in place, but he won’t look at me, his voice as rough as crumbling granite. “Don’t,” he says. “Don’t you fucking pity me.”
“I’m not,” I say. “I’m only sorry about what happened.”
Now is not the time to ask him for specifics. But it is a time for forgiveness. “Can we start over? You and me, can we try again?”
For a long moment he doesn’t respond, but when he does his voice lowers in anger. “You still want me? Even now that you know what happened to me?” He huffs when I don’t answer. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know. I saw the way you looked at me.”
“I’m upset, and angry, and disgusted,” I admit, not missing how rigid he becomes at my words. “But only because I hate what happened to you, and it breaks my heart that you hurt so much because of it.”
I unsnap my seatbelt, edging as close as I can to him. But when I smooth my hand along his back, I realize how much I’ve missed him.
He bows his head, his hands balling into fists so tight they shake. He’s losing control, I know he is. Without meaning to, I’ve wounded his pride. “Kiss me,” I whisper.
He raises his head slightly, the muscles along his spine feeling more like stone than flesh. “Don’t you feel sorry for me,” he rasps.
“I don’t,” I repeat, surprised by how husky my voice becomes as I tell him the truth. “I just really need you to kiss me right now.”
I’m not ready for his speed, or how quickly he lunges at me, gluing his body to mine. Those lips . . . those I’m ready for. Just as I’m ready for the way his arms pull me closer.
I didn’t fully believe he wanted me as much as he claimed. But as his mouth devours mine, all those insecurities that have kept me up at night disappear, leaving me and Finn, and reminding me how much our bodies crave each other.