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“Who knows about this?” she asked. “Does Vicki know?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Alistair was with me through the whole thing. Vicki knows, and I believe your mother does, too. But I asked everyone not to talk about it. It happened, it’s over, and I don’t want it to be a topic of discussion. I wanted to keep it private.”
Her brows were still drawn down, but I felt her body begin to slowly relax against me under the water. “I get that,” she said. “First your dad, and then the surgery. You wanted to put it behind you.”
“That was part of it.” I didn’t want my surgery to end up on a “Where Are They Now?” listicle. The internet could make fun of me however it wanted, but not about that. I had needed months to recover, and I hadn’t really moved on. Not until Juliet had come back into my life, this wild girl who felt everything and wanted so much. This woman whose demons I understood so well.
I shifted beneath her, making the water swell. The topic was a downer, but my cock hadn’t entirely received the message. My cock was still fixated on Juliet Barstow straddling me naked. “Listen,” I said. “It’s nice to share, but we’re naked right now, and we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, but could we at least change the subject?”
That got a sexy smile out of her, one that made my heart squeeze. She was a goddess. I wanted to get her out of this bath and into bed, where I would do anything she would let me do. I didn’t care, as long as I was with her.
She leaned down and kissed me. I opened to her, and the taste of her made everything else leave my mind. My body was back on board, too.
We were tangling closer under the water when she suddenly broke the kiss, as if she’d just thought of something. “Wait, Finn. Are you in pain?” she asked.
I gritted my teeth. “No. Except for sexual frustration. If that’s what you mean, then yes.”
She laughed softly, leaning down, her breath against my damp neck. She kissed me there, then sucked my skin. At the same time, her hand slid under the water and gripped me, sliding down and then up.
I bucked under her, gasping her name. Her hand kept moving, and I lost it. My eyes closed, my head thunked back against the edge of the tub, my fingers dug into the sweet flesh of her hips. She rode me like that, her thighs gripping mine, her breasts brushing my chest, her hand moving firm and steady, while I pulsed under her and water splashed on the floor. My brain was nothing but white-hot pleasure.
It took an embarrassingly short time, but I couldn’t bring myself to be sorry. I came in the warm bathwater, and it wasn’t just good, it was fucking religious. Even if she never touched me again, I would pray to the altar of Juliet Barstow for the rest of my life.
It took a moment for me to catch my breath enough to say the one word my brain would form. “Stay,” I said into the steamy, silent air.
For a brief moment, Juliet tensed. It was so subtle, I wouldn’t have felt it if she wasn’t skin to skin with me, our bodies twined together.
Don’t run, I silently begged her, knowing that if I said it aloud, it would make her get up and leave.
But she hesitated, and then she relaxed again. She pushed herself up to look down into my face. A smile touched her lips.
“All right,” she said. “Just for a little while.”
SIXTEEN
Juliet
I didn’t tell Vicki about what had happened with Finn. I didn’t tell Mom. I didn’t tell any of the other bridesmaids—especially Petra, who everyone thought should be dating him. I didn’t tell my roommate. I didn’t even have a diary I could tell. For the first time, I felt the need to spill my feelings in a way that even writing a song wouldn’t fix, and I had no one to confide in.
Back in Portland after the fitting weekend, I threw myself into work. We were in the studio, rehearsing, but the band was also working on new material, workshopping new songs. Neal had started coming to the studio a couple evenings a week, after Raine was home and Sam was asleep, to work on the new songs. I didn’t do sessions in Neal’s living room anymore, because I had worked on the songs so much that I had command of them now.
I was restless and unsettled, but in a way that was good, like I hadn’t felt in years. I was sparking with possibility. I felt a creativity that only comes from not being hungry and not worrying about the rent. It also came from working with people who are so relentlessly creative themselves that you can’t help catching it, like a virus.
I bought a notebook and pen, and for the first time in years, I thought, If I wrote a song, what would I write about?
Finn came into my mind, unbidden. He’d been writing in his basement. If he could do it, so could I.
I hadn’t answered my own question yet. But my notebook was in my bag, waiting.
“How was your weekend away?” Denver Gilchrist asked when we sat down in the songwriting room for a break. It was late in the session, and he was steeping a hot cup of tea while the rest of the band worked something out. In every session, the singer is the only one with an instrument that needs regular breaks and careful care. A singer who burns his voice out in rehearsals might not get it back by performance time, and eventually, he might not get it fully back at all. I could work Princess until dawn, but Denver had to be careful.
I leaned back on my sofa. I was wearing leggings and a stretched-out sweatshirt, my hair in a braid that was amateur at best considering my hair wasn’t all that long. No one had commented on my hobo look. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” I admitted.
Denver nodded. “How’s Finn? When I talked to him, I got the impression he’s been through some shit.”
This didn’t surprise me. I knew Finn hadn’t talked to Denver about his personal life, but Denver picked up on everything, like an empathic sponge. “He’s doing fine,” I said.
The words were automatic. Was Finn actually fine? I had seen only what he had showed me. I had seen his house, his dog. I had spent time with him. I had kissed him, touched him, even seen him naked, but when I thought about it, it seemed that he had spent the weekend somehow looking after me in a way that was planned with care. Who looked after Finn?
