We’ve had a lot of fun since she moved in last month. I love having her here, and I’m on top of the world each time I walk through the door to find her and Boner waiting for me. As much as I wish we could be more, I understand Finley’s reasoning for not wanting to complicate things with a relationship. All of that aside, I’m grateful for every second I get with her, especially in these quiet, cozy nights alone.
She attempts to find a comfortable position, shifting her body several times to no avail. I keep my eyes forward as long as I can, but after about fifteen minutes, my protective instinct kicks in.
“You okay?” I ask, desperate to make it better. She’s been doing so much—taking the dog on walks and playing fetch with him for hours on end—even when I’m sure she’s exhausted. She says it’s because he needs the exercise, but I know she just hates telling him it’s time to go inside. I don’t blame her, though, because my dude’s puppy eyes are lethal.
She forces a heavy sigh, wincing as she moves again. “My hips and legs are killing me. The second trimester was supposed to be fun, but everything hurts. What a scam.”
I bark a laugh, earning an adorable little side-eye as she crosses her arms over her chest like a brat. Themotion pushes her tits together, and I can’t stop myself from glancing down at them. Within the past few weeks, her body has changed so much. It’s impossible not to be turned on by it. Finley could bring me to my knees before she was pregnant—but now, with her full tits, growing bump, and glowing skin?
I’m fucking done for.
I could win the Guinness World Record for longest time with a half-chub, probably.
Seeing the frustration written across her expression when she adjusts herself again, I reach over and gently tap her thigh. “Come on, Mama. Feet on my lap.”
“Ew!” she replies, her head rearing back in disgust. “They probably stink from my walk with Boner. I’m not putting them on you.”
I roll my eyes, scooting closer and looping my arm under her knees. She squeals as I twist her body toward me, draping her legs over my thighs and holding tight as she panics and tries to pull away.
“Theo!” she yells. “I told you my feet are gross! Let go!”
“Stop fighting and let me take care of you,” I grunt, refusing to loosen my iron grip until she calms down. It’s a battle of wills at this point—and if it means making her feel better, I’m sure as fuck not backing down. She halfheartedly kicks a few more times while I act unaffected, but eventually gives up, her body slumping into the cushions behind her. Her stare may be narrowed in my direction as she pouts, but I don’t miss the smile she desperately tries to suppress at the same time.
“Thank you,” I say before using the pads of my thumbs to knead at her calf muscle. The bratty, combative girl from just moments ago is nowhere to be found as she sighs quietly, her eyes fluttering closed while her head lolls to one side.
“You’re so good at that,” she moans, the words making my cock thicken in my boxer briefs. I shouldn’t be imagining the same satisfied sounds falling from her lips as I push deep inside her for the first time, butfuck…I can’t help it. Finley turns me all the way on, even when she doesn’t mean to.
“Yeah?” I rasp, unable to take my gaze off her as I switch to the other calf, giving it the same treatment and earning more sexy-as-fuck gasps and moans. I’m getting harder by the second, thankful for the blanket that’s haphazardly balled up at my side as I pull it over to hide the evidence.
“Mhmm,” she hums, her breath hitching when I ascend. The skin of her thighs is soft and smooth, their warmth radiating against my calloused fingertips. I’m on autopilot, massaging the supple flesh and gritting my teeth so I don’t embarrass myself by coming in my fucking pants. This was supposed to be innocent—a way to dull the discomfort she’s been experiencing—but the thoughts I’m having as she continues making the most sinful sounds are anything but. I want to suck, lick, and fuck her everywhere, until she’s so satiated that she forgets she was in pain to begin with.
“Theo,” she breathes, the sound of my name on her lips causing me to go lightheaded. I can’t help but zero in on every sharp inhale, each small shift of her hips,and the way her toes curl in my lap as I move upward. Maybe I’m crazy, but these reactions are making me feel like she wants me the same way I want her.
“What, Fin?” I reply, my voice full of gravel as I ghost my thumbs over the hem of her thin sleep shorts. “What do you need? Say it, and I’ll give it to you.”
Her eyes are still closed, cheeks flushed with desire as she swallows thickly. “I…I can’t. We can’t.”
“Look at me,” I say softly, halting my movements. Tension swirls in the air around us, so I choose my words carefully as her captivating green pools lock onto mine. “I’ve been pretending for weeks that I don’t ache to touch you. Totasteyou. It kills me every time you walk out of your room in these tiny little shorts. I want to pin you against the wall and show you exactly what you do to me. I know you feel it, too.”
Her brows knit, head shaking rapidly, but I can tell she’s conflicted. “What if it fucks everything up?” The words are barely a whisper, almost drowned out by the low hum of the television across the room.
“It won’t,” I assure her. “I love having you here, and I wouldn’t compromise that. We don’t have to put a label on anything, Finley. Just let me make you feel good. Let me give you what you deserve.”
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it back and forth as she considers. As much as I want to say more—to convince her that we’d be so fucking good together—I need this decision to be hers. I don’t want even the smallest modicum of doubt in her mind when it comes to us.
Every tick of the clock feels like a million years, myheart pounding so loudly in my ears that I almost don’t catch it when her lips part, and she finally puts me out of my misery.
“Yes,” she replies shakily, her eyes flaring with heat. “I want it.”
“Thank fuck.”
Without wasting another second, I stand from the couch, lifting Finley into my arms bridal style. The heaviness that lingered between us moments ago melts away as I practically run toward the staircase, her soft red curls bouncing with every hurried step I take.
“Jesus, Theo! What the hell are you doing?” she shouts.
“Taking you to my bed,” I tell her. “I’ve been waiting over a year to touch you, and I’m sure as hell not doing it while cramped up on the couch.”
Taking the stairs two at a time, I rush toward my room, not stopping until my knees have hit the edge of my king-sized mattress. I carefully lower her down before I stand, taking in the sight before me. Finley Bolton—the girl of my fucking dreams—is in my bed, and she’s allowing me to have her in ways I’ve only fantasized about. I can’t fuck this up. It has to be perfect.
