If Marigold had had the wherewithal to stop and think, she would have been shocked by this, but she was wild with pleasure, and she let him kiss her everywhere, before laying him down and straddling him, rocking softly back and forth. When she was close to her climax, Marigold almost wanted to stop, to prolong the pleasure, but Finn grabbed her hips and moved her, and she arched her back and she came, and at the same time, he released himself. The pleasure was like water, furious and then quiet, flowing everywhere throughout her body, down to her toes and fingertips. They lay there for awhile after, Finn tracing the outline of her body with his fingers.
Marigold said they should go.
“No,” Finn said.
“I–I–we have to go back,” Marigold said. “Your brother–”
Finn snorted and put his hands behind his head.
“He can wait. Besides–I wanted to ask you…what happened earlier today, with Melinda?”
The space between them immediately became tense. Marigold felt frozen where she was, standing up in the tree house holding her frock. Suddenly she had become herself again–someone with a past, someone with nothing to offer a young man but a history of confusion.
Marigold steeled herself. His words had chopped at the spell that was over them. Now she must sever it all together.
“I know it may not seem like it now,” she began, “you might regret this later. I don’t, and I won’t,” she continued.
“Neither will I,” Finn said urgently.
“It’s more complicated for you,” Marigold said slowly, feeling awkward as she put her dress back on, and fit her breasts into the bodice, knowing Finn was staring, enjoying her body even now.
“I still want to stay…” Marigold continued.
“Of course,” Finn said.
“Then we won’t tell anyone?”
“But–”
Marigold sighed. She knew exactly what to say to convince Finn that their little world had come to an end. It hurt her to say it, especially because she knew that, though Finn’s relationship was not her responsibility, she had inadvertently caused another woman pain.
“Hestia,” she said.
“I broke off the engagement today.”
Marigold almost thought she hadn’t heard right.
“Well then,” Marigold said. “It’s just…I hope you won’t regret that.”
They rode back toward the fire William had created, in a different kind of silence than before.
“Go for a swim?” William shouted as they approached, looking a little frustrated at their long absence, but trying to hide it.
“Yes,” Finn said. “Marigold wanted to see the water.”
They stayed up several hours longer, with Marigold running the conversation, asking questions about Finn and William’s parents, their mother’s death, while the flames spit and crackled.
It seemed that Finn didn’t take his eyes off her–not once.
Chapter Eight
Finn
One Month Later…
It was morning, before the heat set in, and before Marigold set off to do her chores, and then after that, she took to the spare bedroom until dinner, having bought some painting materials from Melinda in town.
Finn always lingered until Marigold left. Once gone, Marigold was difficult to find. And Finn had tried. He’d tried to talk to her alone, to see if she would be open to touching him again, to going back to that water…the memory plagued him, his desire for her was so intense…He sometimes thought he could feel her through the walls while they slept, and it took everything he had not to open her door and offer himself to her.
