Twelve
Tom felt the noise of the plow on the asphalt like a physical scrape along his skin.
The plow meant freedom. Freedom meant an end to the strangest and best few days of his life.
He wasn’t ready for this to be over.
He stood and walked to the windows where the view confirmed his fears: the big blade of the plow was creating an ever-expanding path that would lead him to public transportation and back to his regularly scheduled life.
“Looks like you’re about to have your apartment to yourself,” he said when Finn joined him. “Better late than never, right?”
“Right,” she replied, staring at the street with a crease in her brow.
And honestly, it was time. He hadn’t intentionally listened to her conversation with her brother, but he’d picked up enough words before he slid out of the room to know that even though Jake was five years older than him and Finn, her protective older brother was familiar with the rough outline of the slut-shaming Facebook saga. Jake had it as wrong as everybody else, but his disapproval wasn’t a vote in favor of Tom hanging around for any longer than necessary.
Farther down the block, he saw long stretches of shoveled sidewalks. The good people of Chicago had been busy while he’d been losing himself in the feel of Finn’s lips against his as he’d always dreamed. He pushed down a sigh, not wanting her to guess how reluctant he was to give up her company.
“Give me a second to get my things together and I’ll get gone.”
She was slow to turn from the window, and when she did, her mouth was turned down at the corners in a frown. “Okay.”
He ducked into Josie’s room and pulled off his borrowed clothes. His own jeans had dried stiff after he’d submerged them in snow, and his henley had definitely seen cleaner days, but they’d work to get him back home.
He emerged dressed like himself again and packed up the few items he’d left scattered on the table. Normally he took more care when he stowed his laptop and notes, but a voice in his brain was shouting that the sooner he got out of there, the less likely he was to say or do something stupid.
Finn remained motionless as he crossed the room to slide on his coat. Even though he was doing his best to exit without embarrassing himself, “something stupid” was brewing on the tip of his tongue. He could offer her his phone number or ask to see her again. He could thank her for providing evidence that every so often, good things did come his way.
He couldn’t force any of the words past his tongue though. He was lucky to have gotten the chance to set things right with her and shake the Etch A Sketch clean. Asking for anything else was asking to be disappointed all over again.
He hiked his bag up his shoulder. “Okay then. Thank you for everything. The food, the shelter.” The forgiveness. “See you around maybe.”
Although it killed him to do it, he turned away from her and put his hand on the knob.
“Or you could stay.”
He pivoted slowly, certain his ears had tricked him. “What?”
She still hovered by the window, but she lifted her chin to meet his gaze with something like defiance. “Stay, Tom. You should stay.”
She wanted him. She was choosing this. The blood leaped in his veins, and he dropped his bag by the door and stalked across the room to cradle her face in his hands. “Christ, I’m glad you asked.”
He kissed her then, without finesse or even tenderness, just an onslaught of lips and tongue against hers, telling her without words that he wanted her, had wanted her forever, and he couldn’t wait another second to make her his.
She wrapped a hand around his neck and kissed him back, meeting his ferocity with her own. Her fingers clawed at his coat before working their way inside and over his shoulders to push it off his body. They left it in a puddle of puffy blue fabric at their feet, and he walked her backward toward her bedroom, never breaking their kiss.
At the foot of her bed, she pulled away to study him. Her accelerated breathing stretched the material of her shirt across her breasts, where he could see the points of her nipples. Everything in him screamed to touch, to taste, but he managed to leash his desire.
“Finn, we don’t have to do anything here. We can—”
“Don’t you dare. I want it all.Everything.” Her voice was savage, and blood surged to his cock at the sound of it.
Time to drop the leash.
“Shirt off,” he ordered, and she complied instantly. “Those too.” He pointed to her leggings.
She tugged them off along with her underwear and tossed them to the side. And then Finn Carey was standing in front of him, naked, nervous, and more beautiful than he could’ve imagined, andoh, had he imagined.
She blushed, and he realized he’d spoken his thoughts out loud. But if anything, it chased the nerves from her face, and despite the flame in her cheeks, she put a hand on her cocked hip.
