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“Not yet.”
“I need to say—”
“In a minute. You are freezing, Foster.”
He shrugs my coat off my shoulders and it slides down my arms and lands behind me. He drags his own coat off next, then his scarf and hat. My gloves come off in his hands, and he sucks in a breath when his fingers touch mine.
“Fox.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine. Your fingers are like ice cubes.”
“I’m okay.”
He shakes his head, grabs my hand, and tugs me toward the bathroom.
“We need to—”
“You can talk to me in there. I need you warm. You look like you walked here from the farm.”
“I drove here, but I was outside for a while. I didn’t mean to, but I lost track of time.”
“Fuck, Foster.”
His head snaps around. His eyes are wet, but he doesn’t say anything. Just turns back and gets the shower running, then starts undressing me.
I let him because whatever happens next, I’m not leaving this apartment without telling Finn everything. If getting naked with him gets me closer to having him hear me out, so be it.
He peels off my sweater and jeans, and then he gets down on one knee to work my boots off my numb feet. I put my hand on his shoulder to steady myself and just breathe.
When I’m down to nothing, he stands and strips himself in about ten seconds. Then he pulls me under the water.
The heat hits my skin like a slap. It’s almost painful.
“Fuck—”
“I know. Stay in it. Your circulation is going to come back.”
He steps in behind me, his chest to my back, wraps his arms around my ribs, and holds on.
I close my eyes and let my head drop against his shoulder.
He’s so warm, which is odd because he’s been at the festival all day.
We stand like that for a while under the hot water, steam filling the bathroom. Finn’s breath is against the side of my neck. His hands are flat against my sternum, holding me.
He reaches past me and picks up the bottle of body wash. Pours some into his hand. Then he starts washing my chest.
Slow. Gentle. Caring.
His palm slides over my sternum, down my ribs, across my stomach. He turns me by the shoulders and washes my back next, running his hand up the length of my spine, then down. Behind my knees. My calves. My feet.
I’ve never been worshipped like this.
Nothing about this touch asks for anything.
My throat closes.
