“Hm.” He kisses me, a slow, deep kiss that leaves me slightly breathless when I pull away.
“Was it canceled?”
“No.” He tries to kiss me again, but I set my hands on his chest. He sighs. “I took a private flight home.”
That both warms my heart and makes me want to slap him. “You can’t keep missing important things.”
“Nothing is more important than you,” he says, cupping my face and running his thumb over my lower lip. “Nothing.”
I blink back the tears that threaten and lean in again, kissing him slowly in hopes that it encompasses all the things I feel for him. It won’t. I doubt anything can. Our kisses turn desperate, and we start tugging each other’s hair and biting each other’s lips. He moves to position himself over me and his hands slide underneath my oversized t-shirt—his shirt.
“This is a shirt I approve of,” he growls against my mouth, plunging his tongue into my mouth as he slides down my panties and helps me sit up to pull off the shirt.
He takes off his own and lowers his head to draw my left nipple into his mouth, and then the other. Heat shoots through me and I nearly bow off the bed when he bites them and kneads my breasts, as he continues to pepper kisses on my face, my chin, and my neck. I reach out and start pulling down his boxer briefs, shivering when I feel his large thick erection, hot and hard in my hand.
“Fuck.” A shudder rolls through him and his hips thrust into my hand once. “I’ll take my time with you later, but if I don’t get inside you right now, I’ll die.”
I moan and let him push me until I’m on my back. His hand moves between us and he touches me, groaning when he finds me wet and ready for him. He grabs himself in his hand and looks down as he ever so slowly slides inside me. I gasp at the feel of his girth stretching me and tilt my pelvis with a moan when he’s fully inside me. He pauses there, his gaze lifting to mine. What I find in his eyes leaves me breathless prematurely, and then he pulls out to the tip, not taking his eyes off me as he slams back in, hard and deep. My legs wrap around his waist in encouragement, and I grip the sheets tight when he does it again, and again.
“Lift your legs, baby,” he rasps. I do and he lowers himself and thrusts so deep I feel my breath go out of me. A wave of heat spreads through me and I clench around him, pulling a deep groan from his lips. “Goddamn it, Josie.”
My stomach flutters and my climax hits me like a freight train.Hard, fast, and impossible to contain. He shudders over me, his arms trembling as he throws his head back and pumps into me a few times, moaning out my name as he comes. He lowers himself, pressing his weight on me as he kisses my neck and breaths hard against me.
“I love you so fucking much,” he says against my cheek.
I sigh against him as I let him lift and carry me to the shower, where he takes me again against the wall.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He exhales. “What is there to say?”
“I’m not sure,” I say quietly. “I can’t stop thinking about it. Could I have done something different? What if?—”
“No.” He shifts so I’m flat on my back and he’s propped up on his elbow looking down at me with a frown on his face. “You couldn’t have done anything different. None of this is your fault.”
“I know it’s not my fault, but?—”
“No, Josslyn. I won’t let you feel guilty over something my…” He pauses and swallows. “Over something a person did who clearly needed help—the kind of help you could not have provided.”
Unbidden tears fill my eyes and I blink rapidly, turning my face to rub my shoulder before any fall. Finn breathes heavily and cups my face so I’m looking up at him again, and brings his forehead to mine.
“I could have lost you,” he says hoarsely. “I could have lost you before we even…” He slides his hand from my face to the nape of my neck, gripping it gently. “You couldn’t have changed anything. I won’t let either of us feel guilty about things we weren’t responsible for.”
“Okay,” I whisper as I kiss him. When I pull away, his eyes are still closed. “What about your mother?”
His eyes pop open. “What about her?”
“Will you forgive her?”
He pulls away and lies on his back with a heavy sigh. I scoot closer, placing my head on his chest. “I doubt it.”
“She was doing the best she could.”
He scoffs. “That’s a stretch.”
“I’m not agreeing with it, but our actions are a reflection of our experiences, and your parents are … messed up.”
“We’ll have to disagree on that,” he says, running his fingers on my scalp. “You can argue that I’m messed up and I would never do what my mother did.”
