Chase
Istood there, staring down at Finn sprawled across my couch. His cheeks were flushed, and he was breathing hard. He looked wrecked. He was beautiful like this, with his hair a mess, his lips swollen, and his eyes half closed in that post-orgasm haze that made him look younger and softer.
I’d done that.
I’d made him look like that, made him come undone with my mouth and hands and words. The power of it should have been enough, should have satisfied whatever this was between us.
But it wasn’t.
I wanted more.
My brain was doing something complicated—something that felt dangerously close to feelings.
I wanted—
What did I want?
Finn’s eyes opened slowly, focusing on me. A lazy smile spread across his face.
“Well,” he said, his voice rough. “That was . . .”
“Unexpected,” I finished.
“I was going to say ‘incredible,’ but unexpected works, too.” He pushed himself up to sitting, wincing slightly. “Jesus, Chase. Where did you learn to do that?”
“Law school.”
“They teach blow jobs in law school?”
“No, but the stress makes you very motivated to figure things out.” I was stalling, making jokes, doing anything to avoid the thing I wanted to say. “You want some water?”
“Yeah, that would be—” Finn stopped. Only then did he seem to remember where he was. “Actually, I should get going.”
He stood—still naked, still beautiful—and began gathering his clothes from where they lay scattered across my living room floor.
My hand moved before my brain could catch up. I grabbed his wrist.
“Where are you going?” I heard myself ask.
Finn’s head cocked as he looked up. “Home? It’s late, and you have work tomorrow—”
“I don’t care about work.”
“Chase—”
“Stay.” The word came out more desperate than I’d intended. My grip on his wrist tightened. “Please.”
“I . . . what?”
What was I doing? This wasn’t how this worked. I hooked up, I enjoyed it, I sent the guy on his way.
Idid notask someone to stay.
I didn’t make it complicated.
I didn’t—
“I want you to stay,” fell out of my mouth.
