AllFreeNovel
Share Us
In answer, I kissed her softly, gently. I let her taste herself on me. I tried to tell her everything with that kiss. I had no idea if I succeeded.
She pulled away and shifted over me, rubbing on me in sweet agony. “I’m on the pill.”
Instantly, my brain shut down again. It was like a movie scene in which a bomb goes off and the main character can’t hear anymore. There was only rushing in my ears.
“Finn?” she asked, moving again.
“Yeah.” My voice was a croak, and she smiled. It wasn’t my slickest moment with a woman.
Still, I liked that smile. I gathered my wits enough to run my hands over her hips, her waist, appreciating her perfect shape. I positioned my hand between us to gently rub my thumb over her, and I felt the gratifying squeeze of her knees as she braced her palms on my chest again.
“No more waiting,” I said, and Juliet agreed with me, because she lifted herself and lowered down, sinking us both into bliss. It was white-hot and perfect, and I had never been like this with a woman in my life, and all I wanted was this woman in my bed, giving me everything as if I deserved it while I gave her everything I had. She leaned forward and kissed me as we moved, and moments later she broke, resting her forehead on my shoulder as she cried out. The sensation was so tortuously exquisite that I couldn’t hold on, and I followed.
In the quiet that settled as my heart slowed, I heard the beginning patters of rain on the window. The room had grown dark. Juliet rested warm against me, her skin slick against mine.
It was just a weekend. It wasn’t going to last.
Then again, nothing lasts forever, even if you want it to. I had learned that the hard way.
I held her tighter and told myself it didn’t matter.
EIGHTEEN
Juliet
This bed. I was never getting out of this bed.
I wasn’t usually that woman—the snuggle-in-bed, self-care woman. At home in my apartment, my bed was for sleeping—alone—and avoiding my roommate with my headphones on. I did not have men over, firstly because of my roommate, and secondly because I hadn’t met one recently that I was willing to have in my space. If I dated someone, I would go to his apartment, where I could make a quick escape.
But this bed—I could live in this bed. The roominess, the calm peace of it, the blankets that were just warm enough but also cool to the skin. And, mostly, the man in it. The man who was sprawled naked next to me as the gray light of dawn peeked through the blinds.
When I looked over at him, I could see the taut muscle of one shoulder, the back of his neck, and the curve of his spine, dipping gracefully under the covers just as it got to the good part. I stared in fascination. How was I so obsessed with Finn’s body? Why did I want to trace the length of spine with my fingertip as if I’d never seen it before? Why did I want to feel the nape of his neck, then touch the scar I knew was hidden under his tousled hair? I had to flex my fingers to stop myself, because I didn’t want to wake him. It was ungodly early, and he probably needed sleep.
The second round of sex, incredibly, had been even better than the first. I was pretty sure I had the marks of Finn’s thumbprints on my inner thighs, and I was pleasantly sore in all the right ways. I needed a shower and a huge breakfast, followed by a nap, but instead of doing those things, I studied the line of Finn’s shoulder and thought about models.
I knew he’d dated models when he was famous. I’d teased him about it while he drove me home from the fitting weekend in Portland, one of my usual shots at him. I’d said that as a rich asshole, he was used to dating models, not women like me.
His reply was, “Those were fake, you know. Those relationships. Our managers set us up, because when I was seen dating a model, it got publicity and everyone made money.”
I had known, in theory, that celebrities dated for PR reasons all the time. I hadn’t thought about it too deeply, but if I had, I would have thought about grown adults doing it, which was none of my business.
Finn, who had been a kid, was my business.
I listened to the rise and fall of his breathing in the gray light and thought about what it would be like, as a teenager, to date someone who was hired for the job. I’d had some trash boyfriends and hard breakups, but I couldn’t imagine sleeping with a guy who was doing it for money. Everything about that was wrong. At least when I made mistakes, I made them honestly, because I’d really felt something. Finn had had to navigate all of that on top of a stressful career at sixteen.
I hated it. I hated thinking of the Finn I’d met, the boy with the seriousness of a man, believing he was supposed to sleep with a stranger to keep the business afloat, to keep the money coming in for everyone. I’d called him a rich asshole, but no amount of money changed the fact that he’d been a kid, and the girls had been kids, too. It shouldn’t have upset me so much, because it was a long time ago, but I couldn’t help it. I always felt too much. It pissed me off and it made me sad.
I rolled over toward Finn. I wasn’t sure what I planned to do. Hug him, maybe, or tell him I wasn’t going to make any more rich asshole jokes, and that anyone else who tried would deal with me. Maybe I was going to start things up for round three. I was interrupted by a dog’s soft moan from the floor beside the bed, followed by two paws lifting Gary’s head up to stare at me over the edge of the mattress.
I blinked into the dog’s soft, sad eyes. “Gary,” I whispered, trying not to wake Finn. “What do you want?”
“He needs to go out.” Finn’s sleepy voice was half muffled by his pillow. He rolled back onto one shoulder, lifting an arm and rubbing his forehead as he slowly woke up.
I watched his arm flex, his hand. There was something wrong with me.
Finn didn’t notice. He moved the hand to rub his eye. “I’ll take him.”
“No, I’ll do it,” I said. “You go back to sleep.”
