“Did you just…” The city glowed through the windows, just bright enough to see him scrunching up his face. “Did you just call me a pet name?”
Huh. Yeah. Not my style.
“So what about it?” I asked.
“Nothing.” His smile flashed like the first light of a new day. “Just checking.”
“Might want to start moving instead.”
“And they say romance is dead.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll run to the café down the road and serve you lemon bars and coffee in bed. But tonight?” I curved an arm around his waist, brought him close with my fingers tucked down the back of his jeans. “Tonight, I just want you. Simple, right?”
It didn’t feel simple. Itdidn’t—but then Finn laughed and pressed further into me, and suddenly, maybe, it was.
We took our shoes off and dropped the jackets. My apartment smelled fresh and beautiful, like the floral detergent my cleaning lady always used.Home. Had I ever—? Oh, whatever. Didn’t matter if this was new, if the place felt warmer with Finn here, more alive. It just absolutely didn’tmatter, the day’s leftovers swimming in my veins like lilac wine.
Two babies, separate and healing.
“Solid assist, Dr. Maddox.”
Finn.
I kissed him like the world was ours, like gravity couldn’t hurt. He tipped into it, his hands grappling at my waist, lips parting on a shaky sigh. “Bedroom?”
God, yes. I smiled through a dizzy haze of exhaustion. “You know the way.”
“Yeah.” His grin pressed against the corner of my mouth. “Feels polite to let you lead, though.”
I laughed. “Polite?You?”
“Hey, my momma raised me right.” The words were slow like dripping honey, a hint of cheek tucked underneath. “I know how to say please and thank you.Thank youfor taking me home.Pleasetake me to bed.”
It felt a little like that first night—all playful charm and magnetic body. He was more than that, though. So much more. I swallowed against a stupid wave of warmth, twining my fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. “Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?”
“My exes, yeah.” He said it lightly, like a joke, but… Ah, fuck.
“Well, they were idiots. I waskidding, babe.” It came out fierce, as if I could convince him by sheer force of will that it was them, not him. He looked down, shadows pooling under his lashes, something pleased only just visible in the curve of his mouth.
“Okay,” he muttered—not teenage-obstinate but shy, like he didn’t fully believe me. Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day.
I kissed him until he lost all tension, until it felt like my chest might crack open as he clung to me, his pulse fast where I traced the tendon inside his wrist.Want you, I thought or maybe said, no longer sure where he ended and I began, tired and happy and grateful, God—so fuckinggratefulto be here, with him.
We drifted toward the bedroom like ships in the night, like a tide coming in. I got a hand under his sweater and followed the bumps of his spine up, palm flat against warm skin. Clothes—off. I nearly tripped trying to shuck my jeans. Reality seemed to stutter around the fringes each time I blinked, then froze when he fell back onto my bed, thighs splayed to invite me in. Long lines and clean angles, bare skin, a smile like cloudless summer skies. Golden light washed over him, and I remembered the first time he’d been here, how he’d teased me for my fancy indirect lighting.
Six weeks ago? Seven? A lifetime.
“You look like a dream,” I said—stupidly, foolishly, my usual filter worn thin by white OR lights and overspent concentration, by having Finn right here at the tip of my fingers, finally.
He flushed and failed to hide a smile. “That’s such a line.”
“But deeply felt.”
His attention dragged down my chest and stomach, paused on the curve of my cock, then dipped to my thighs and traveled all the way back up. Jesus. I wasn’t the self-conscious type, pretty happy with the reactions I got, unbothered by the rare rejection because I simply didn’t care—not usually. But this. This was different.
I shifted and ducked my head. “What?”
One corner of his lips quirked, dimples a tease that wasn’t fully formed. “Maybe it’s you who talks too much.”
