“What happened in the bathroom?” He cocks one eyebrow.
I lean back, letting my head rest on the ledge of the deep tub. “One of the waitresses wanted your number. I overheard. Apparently, she does butt stuff.”
Finn tries to control his smile but fails. A snort breaks free from his lips. “I’m sorry. I think I momentarily blacked out when you said butt stuff. Where did we land on that subject, by the way?”
“Oh yeah, let’s go for it.”
His eyes perk up, not understanding my sarcasm. “Really?”
“No. Are you crazy? That’d be like shoving an ear of ripe summer corn into a cocktail straw. You’d have two fake girlfriends to bury when you literally split me in half, Finn.”
“Fake?” He pokes my shin with his toe under the water.
“Wasn’t all that for show?” I ask but can’t hide my hopeful tone. “I’m not sure if our situation would make sense to anyone else. I suppose it’s easier to say ‘girlfriend.’”
He licks his lips and stares at me with a gaze so seductive I swear the water surrounding us grows hotter. “Maybe I was testing the waters. Maybe I called you my girlfriend all night because I wanted to see how the words tasted.” He blows out a long breath, leaving my nerves on the very edge of their seat. “It’s been on my mind…has it been on yours?”
“Well, yeah. Of course,” I say honestly. “It’s natural. We spend a lot of time together. We’re sleeping together but…”
“But what?”
“There’s just the small matter that I don’t actually live here.”
“But your job is remote, right?”
I nod slowly as I run my hand across the top of the water. “True. But it’d be sort of crazy to move your entire life based on the feelings you have for a few weeks.” I squint one eye. “Right?”
Finn shrugs. “It’d be sort of crazy to move back to a life you hate if you have other options.”
I pinch my fingers together under the water, trying to control the nerves. It’s not the worst thing in the world to know that Finn might have real feelings for me. Would it be so crazy to tell him that I have real feelings for him too?
I mean…is it too soon?
My relationship with Mason was over long before I realized it was. I’m single. This is no crime. Life happens when it happens and I’d be stupid to refuse a gift from the universe like Finn. But there’s just one thing that has me worried and it’s not the geographic distance between us.
“Do women always hit on you so openly and aggressively?”
Finn blinks at me, his lips flattening into a firm line. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting that question. “Uh, honestly…I’m used to getting attention. But I wasn’t looking at anyone tonight besides you—”
“No, no, of course not. Finn, we’re fine. I wasn’t accusing you of anything.” There’s nothing to accuse him of. We’re not together. “I’m just curious. Do you like the attention or does it get exhausting?”
He juts his chin toward me. “You tell me.”
I snort in response. “If and when I get endless waves of beautiful men throwing themselves at my feet, I’ll let you know if the attention becomes tiresome.”
Finn chuckles, but it falls flat and I’m slightly worried I hurt his feelings. Was I supposed to offer to move to be with him? I just… How? We’re not ready. I’m not ready. Plus, I feel like I’d need a full suit of body armor to survive the attacks I’d get for dating Finn. There’s nothing more vicious than a confident woman with her eyes fixed on a prize.
Finn finally breaks the lull by saying, “I like the attention from you. Sexy is great, but I also need genuine. You’re the first woman I’ve met who seems to be both.” He licks his lips and bends his fingers, beckoning me closer. “Come here.”
I show him my slyest smile as I slowly lean forward, eventually crawling onto his lap. I’m relieved to be on top of him. I was worried his sex strike was legitimate. “I knew you’d cave.” Both of our bodies jostle as he chuckles. “I like the attention from you too, Finn. I’ve been ignored for a really long time, and it feels so good to be seen. Thank you.”
My lips find him urgently. I suck in his bottom lip and run my fingers through his hair as I try to inch forward on his lap, just the idea of his erection kicking up the tingling sensation between my thighs. But Finn, his lips still intertwined with mine, grabs my hips and holds me in place.
“Slow down,” he murmurs into my mouth.
I try to wiggle forward again, but he holds me firmly in place at least two inches away from his dick. “What’s wrong?” I ask. “Are you still upset about your dad?”
“Yes,” he says, “but that’s not why we’re not going to have sex. I thought I told you earlier.”
I flatten an irritated stare at him, but he isn’t dissuaded. He brushes my hair away from my shoulders and presses his lips against my collarbone. “I’ll compromise. Kisses are fine.” His breath feels cool against my damp skin.
“Seriously? You’re going to reject me when I’m wet, naked, and on top of you? Is that a smart move?” The edge in my voice isn’t from anger, it’s from agitation because all I can think about is sliding on top of him and riding until I’m thoroughly sated.
His stupid huffs of laughter at my nonintimidating threat only irritate me further. “I’m not rejecting you. I’m showing you I’m a man of my word. But you’re in control of this, baby. Promise me you’ll get in the studio…” He wraps his hand around my neck and guides my ear to his lips. His voice becomes low and grumbly. “Promise me, and I’ll fuck you so hard right now you won’t know what you’re swimming in, this tub or your cum. You know I can hit that spot that makes you explode.”
Damn, I love his dirty mouth. I’m weak when he talks to me like that. He warned me he’d play dirty. And it almost works as the aching urge between my thighs almost answers for me. Yes. Whatever you want. I’m tempted until the shrill cackle of a woman’s laughter pops the fantasy bubble in my mind.
Who? Ms. Piggy?
That’s adorable.
I didn’t mean to interrupt you and your ‘friend.’
The mean girl chatter is all I hear before I wiggle off of Finn’s lap and back to my side of the tub. “Fine. We won’t have sex.”
“All right,” he says, “no worries.” He stands in place, the water plunging off his body as he rises from the tub. Finn’s gargantuan dick is fully erect and right in line with my eyes. He makes a meal out of raising his arms above his head to stretch as if flexing his taut six-pack is simply natural. He reaches for a towel as he steps out of the tub. Leaning down, he plants a kiss on my cheek. “Just let me get dressed. We can”—he smirks—“talk…or whatever else you want to do tonight.”
Just take some damn pictures, Avery. It’s not that fucking hard.
But it’s always been my kryptonite. I’ve been camera-shy since the day I hit puberty and I started hating what I saw in pictures. Junior high is when I really noticed the stark difference between Palmer and me. My mom took a picture of us on the bus with our matching puffy paint T-shirts we made for the first day of school that read “Grown Girls,” because everyone knows at twelve years old, you’re totally equipped and ready to take on the world.