Fuck.
My legs buckle, and I steady myself on the back of the couch. By the time I’m finished, cum drips down her skin.
I’m breathless. She’s so still, for a second, I’m worried she passed out. Or that I fucked up by thinking it was okay to come on her. I massage her ass cheeks, her lower back. She moans, turning her head to the side. Hair sticks to her temple. “Finn.”
I don’t have to ask what she needs.
I tug her up by her arm, and she stands, her back to my front. I turn her face to give me access to her mouth. I kiss her for the way I just took her, feed her love so she knows how I worship her body even when I’m rough.
“You can come inside me,” she whispers.
“I know.”
She liquefies against me. I love it. I love her.
I’m the lucky bastard who gets to hold her against me, making sure she doesn’t fall. The one who can chase her sadness away.
I hope I’m always the one to do it. And that I’m always able to.
19
Around the corner from Halston’s office, I browse a selection of flowers outside a bodega. They’re nothing extraordinary, overshadowed by miniature Christmas trees, metallic ribbons, and potted poinsettias. But they’re here now. If time and money were no object, I might aim for something nicer.
It’s no coincidence that I’m here, but I’m not about to admit that to her.
I choose red roses. Red says romance. It’s the color of love and sex.
It also means stop, for anyone who might need to hear it.
I hand over some cash and once I have the bouquet in hand, I call Halston.
“I was just thinking about you,” she answers.
“You must’ve sensed me nearby.”
“What?” Her voice pitches. “You’re here?”
“Downstairs.” I grin. “I had a thing in the area. Let’s go for lunch.”
“Really?” I hear the smile in her voice. “All right. I just have to finish up a few e-mails. I’ll be right down.”
“There’s no rush. I’ll come up.”
“No, no, don’t bother. I can meet you in the lobby.”
Halston has a whole other life I’m not part of, and that’s been fine up until now. But I’ve told her I’m falling for her. I’m not going anywhere. I just want to make sure that message is clear. “And miss the opportunity to finally see where you spend your days?” I ask. “Fourth floor, right?”
“Well—”
I hang up and cross 14th Street. On the ride up the elevator, I smooth my hair and scruff into place. I decided not to shave the stubble I already had this morning, but maybe I should’ve. Maybe it’s more “wandering vagrant” than “intimidating boyfriend.” The doors open to a white-tiled, gray-walled lobby with black and white print ads on the walls. I wonder if Halston chose which ones to feature.
Halston comes around a corner and smiles. “Are those for me?”
I look at the roses. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. Sure.”
She laughs and takes them. I lean in, but she pulls away before I can kiss her. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Why not?” I ask. “Are we doing something wrong?”
