“Emma?”
“Yes?”
And then, just like he had in the pool that night, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”
It was as if the word drifted up from the noise and laughter in the streets below, and somehow ended up on my tongue.Yes.
As he closed the distance and our lips touched, I felt myself melt into his body, his hands drifting to my hips and pulling me against him. I’d convinced myself that I’d built up our last kiss in my head—but if anything, this was better than I’d remembered. It was natural. We fit together seamlessly. I could tell by the way his breath hitched, a slight moan escaping from somewhere deep within him, that he could feel it too. Finn kissed me again and again and again. Each kiss grew more and more desperate until he pulled me off the ground and carried me over to one of the two foldout lounge chairs that Sybil had found on the street weeks ago and dragged up there. He laid me down on the chair, then braced himself on his elbows above me, and kissed me again. This time, it was slow anddeliberate. His knee pressed into the space between my legs. I heard a sharp inhale, and realized it was me.
He pulled away, and his hand ran up my thigh, skimming along my tights. “Can I take these off?”
I nodded mutely, too dazed by the thought of what was coming next to use words. Something fluttered in my chest at the thought that anyone in the surrounding buildings could look down from their window to see us, but despite all the city lights around us, the roof itself was a pool of darkness; we were exposed and alone at the same time.
Finn smiled and kissed me again. He pulled off both of my boots and let them fall on the rooftop beside us. Then, reaching beneath my skirt, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my tights and used both hands to roll the thin material over my hips and down my legs. Every inch made me gasp with anticipation. My shirt was still on, but somehow most of its buttons had come undone, and the look in Finn’s eyes intensified, his knuckles grazing the edge of my bra as he leaned over me again, his chest warm and solid above mine. One hand cupped the back of my neck and pulled me toward him for a deeper kiss. The other dragged along the inside of my thigh. I gasped against Finn’s mouth, breaking the kiss as his fingers, cool from the night air, slipped beneath the soft cotton of my panties.
“Is this okay?”
“Yes, it’s okay.” It was more than okay. Finn’s fingers worked slowly and deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world. With each movement, he watched my reaction, moving slowly and then more quickly bringing me to the edge, but not letting me go over.
He slipped a second finger inside of me, and I lifted my hips so his fingers reached even deeper. It was nothing like sex with Preston, which was nice enough, but felt like paint by numbers. Simple strokes of soft pastels in pleasing shapes. With Finn it felt like I’d dipped the canvas in turpentine and lit it on fire. It was like oxygen, like water. Through the lace of my bra, Finn’s mouth closed around my nipple, and I bucked against his hand as I came apart in a thousand pieces. Falling limply against the back of the lawn chair, I reached for the zipper on Finn’s pants, but his hands stopped me.
His breathing was ragged. “Fuck.”
“What?” I whispered. “What is it?”
“We shouldn’t,” he said, his words grazing my skin. He kissed me again.
“What do you mean?” I was in agony; stopping was the last thing I wanted.
“I mean Preston,” he whispered. “Crew captain extraordinaire.”
“I never said he was captain.”
Finn laughed quietly, and so did I, reaching up to touch his jaw. But even as I did, reality was starting to come back to me in waves.
“You never saidyouwere in an open relationship,” he pointed out.
It took me a second to think through the lust fogging my brain, but of course, Finn was right.
“No. We aren’t.” Guilt sliced through me.
Shit.
I hadcheated. Had I cheated? Of course I had. What the hell else could you call this? Hooking up with an ex, or anex-whatever-we-were, wasn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card. In fact, it wasworse. Because I knew this was not just a hookup. I couldn’t lie to myself and say it wasn’t more than that. The want that was coursing through my body was not just because of the way Finn made me feel when he touched me, when he looked at me. It was all of that and something else too. I didn’t want a hookup; I wantedhim.
But he was already sitting up, straightening his shirt with shaking hands, and as I started to sit up and shift my skirt back down, I couldn’t believe myself. This was a completely un-Emma thing to do. Preston might have been a self-important snob from time to time, but he didn’t deserve to be cheated on. What kind of person does that? An image of my father popped into my mind unbidden, fully ruining the mood like a cold bucket of water. I began rebuttoning my shirt, feeling vaguely frantic. Was one of the buttons missing? Why couldn’t I find my tights? How had it gotten so dark?
As if he could see me about to spiral, Finn whispered, “We’ll figure it out.” His lips brushed against my forehead. “Right?”
I found myself saying it for the second time that night: “Yes.”
And despite the guilt, the self-recrimination, and the anxiety coursing through me, I believed him, believedmyself. We would figure this out. Whateverthiswas. We would make it work, make it okay. We folded up the lawn chair, pulled the cheese board from the doorjamb, and took the steps back down to my apartment. Finn walked me to my bedroom door, pressing a featherlight kiss to my lips before saying good night.
Lying in bed, I replayed what happened on the roof in myhead, my body coursing with tingly heat all over again. The knowledge that Finn was just a few feet away in Sybil’s room, and I was right on the other side of a thin door, in only a soft T-shirt and underwear, made it impossible to fall asleep. Then, my phone lit up the dark with an incoming text from Finn.
I’ve been thinking about what you said about “setting the terms.” Maybe you’re right. Maybe the best move is to just not be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t want to be in one with me.
I took a deep breath, my fingers flying across my phone keyboard before I could second-guess myself.
