It takes some time before either of us move, both of us struggling to keep somewhat vertical and catch our breaths. Finally, I shift my hips, resulting in both of us groaning, but smiling a little, too. There’s nothing quite like that ache that follows sex with Finn. It gives me chills, reigniting my desire and making me want to beg him for more.
His palms rest on either side of me, his shoulders rising and falling with each profound breath. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks.
“No,” I answer truthfully. But I really want to.
It’s true. Finn has completely changed me. Sex was something I used to do because I believed it was a part of a relationship. I never sought it nor enjoyed it as much as I thought I could. Something was always missing. I realize now it’s the passion I was for so long denied. That desire to feel wanted, needed, and special, is everything Finn makes me feel, and everything I want to give him in return.
He hugs me against him, clutching me like he’ll never let me go. My arms lower to lay over his. No . . . maybe what was missing was Finn, my perfect hero in my very imperfect world.
I give a little wiggle, drawing his attention. He raises his head, meeting my face in the mirror. “We’re not done yet, are we?” I ask, my voice so deep, it’s barely recognizable.
His eyes sizzle as his hands lift to cup my breasts. “Oh, hell no,” he says, angling his chin and kissing me fiercely.
CHAPTER 20
Sol
We were supposed to check out by eleven and head back to Philly by noon. But given how hard his hips slaps against mine, and how I’m gripping the edge of the mattress to keep from falling over the side, I’m reminded why we extended our stay, and why I had to call my father to tell him I wasn’t coming home again.
Finn’s arm hooks under my mine as we lay on our sides, his hand arching my neck so he can kiss me as he pumps. I want to kiss him. I do. But the position makes it hard and so does the force of my next orgasm.
His fingers tug on my nipples, only to slip down further to tease my throbbing center. I fall onto my stomach with my next release. As he finishes and he slumps on top of me, I know that at least for the moment we’re both sated.
I shimmy beneath him, trying to lift my head. “Sorry,” he says, rolling off me and collapsing onto his back.
With a whole lot of sleep-deprived effort, I scoot across the bed and closer to him, bending to kiss his lips. “Are you tired?”
“Oh, yeah,” he answers.
I trace an invisible line between his pecs. “Are you hungry?”
“That, too,” he confesses.
It’s what he claims, but he seems so alert. Impressive considering we’ve barely slept. I edge a little closer, causing him to lift his arm and tuck me against him.
As I gather the sheets around us, I debate whether I should order us a late lunch or an early dinner, seeing how we missed breakfast entirely. Mostly though, I’m just ready to sleep.
“I want to talk to you about something,” he says.
His tone is serious. Yet I find him grinning when I glance up. “What is it?” I ask.
“Move in with me.”
I blink a few times, wondering if I misheard. “Did you say―”
“Yeah. I want you to move in with me.”
I lift my head, but my expression must be classic because he laughs. “I’m serious,” he insists. “I already discussed it with Wren. She’s fine with it since she’ll still have the entire second floor to herself.”
When I don’t answer right away, his expression softens. “You weren’t expecting this, were you?”
“No, I wasn’t,” I answer him, quietly.
He strokes my cheek. “You don’t seem happy,” he points out.
“It’s not that I’m not happy you asked,” I answer. “I mean, it tells me you’re serious about us.”
He frowns. “Of course I am. Don’t you know what you mean to me?”
If I’m being honest, I don’t. At least not completely.
“If it’s Wren, we can find someplace else to live. I’ve banked and made enough fighting to buy another house outright.” He scans my face when I don’t respond. “I know you love the house, but I can’t ask my sister to move out just because I want someone to move in.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” I add quickly.
He shifts us so we’re facing each other directly. “Then what is it?”
It’s a lot a things. I gather the blankets against my breasts, thinking matters through. “Finn, I love you. I’ve told you enough times so you know that it’s true.”
“But I haven’t said it back,” he says, finishing my thoughts, but not exactly my words. “It’s not really in me. Not something I go around saying.”
My stare falls to his chest. His muscles are so pronounced by the way he’s tensing his body. But I’m not exactly sure if I’m the sole cause of the tension or if there’s more to what he’s claiming. “You’ve never told anyone?”
“Never,” he admits.
It makes me feel better to hear he’s never said it to anyone, that doesn’t mean I still don’t wish he’d say it to me. But I won’t force him, or back him into a corner to hear him say something he may never be ready to share. “Okay,” I say, trying to respect his honesty and where he’s coming from.