“I never came in your mouth,” he says quietly. “I kept thinking about it, but then I always ended up wanting something else instead.”
Backing away, and proving the point he just made, he straddles my hips as he tears open the condom and rolls it down his length. If this was a movie, I would rewind and watch those three seconds again and again. I like the way he looks down as he puts the latex on, gripping himself, reaching down absently to run his palm across his balls. With a little growl, he moves the rest of the way down my body and stands at the foot of the bed, between my legs.
“Wrap them around my waist. Hold on to me with your legs.”
I do everything he says because I don’t know anything else but that I need Finn inside me right now. He holds his cock straight and rests one palm on the mattress beside my hip, sliding the head just in.
Just out.
Just in.
Watching me with his lips parted, eyes heavy, he pulls just out again.
I groan, pushing my head back into the mattress and gritting my teeth.
“I like seeing you so impatient,” he whispers, bending to kiss my collarbone. “You have any idea how you look right now? Dripping wet all over me?”
He knows I don’t have words and doesn’t really seem to expect an answer as he pushes in, inch by inch, reaching down to circle his thumb around my clit, murmuring, “Ah, ah, ah, don’t come yet.”
But when he pulls back, he barely takes a breath before thrusting back in and then I know it’s on. He gives me all of it, his hard thrusts and those low, animals sounds he makes with every one. His hands, so big, curled around my body, holding me steady as he fucks so hard.
I relish this man telling me to wait.
Wait.
Not yet, Harlow. Don’t you fucking go without me.
I said wait. I’m close. I’m so fucking close.
He pulls out just when I’ve almost burst into a thousand tiny pieces, and then he eases back inside, whispering, “Wanna come?” against my neck. And I do. I do, please please, I’m begging, and I realize it only on the second, maybe the third please, and he loves it, I can tell, because he’s wild again, and for a tiny, frantic pulse I’m startled by the memory that there is something bigger than this. I squeeze my eyes closed and fall back into feeling like there isn’t anything else in the world but Finn and the way he makes me feel.
Rational thought vanishes as quickly as it peeked in, and I’m screaming as he moves back into me, grinding, grinding, grinding until I come. His palm is cupping my ass to pull me into him, his lips are on my shoulder, and his cock is so deep inside I don’t think I ever knew I could feel so full.
Finn jerks over me, his body tense as he groans against my skin. I feel the twitching of him inside me, the pounding of his heart between us—or is it mine?—I can’t even tell anymore. I have no idea where he ends and I begin.
I’m not sure which of us is more exhausted. Finn did all the work, moving over and into me, pushing and pulling me where he wanted, and yet I feel totally drained. My legs are heavy, my bones composed entirely of rubber. I could sleep for days.
It’s exactly why I’m here.
At some point Finn has unbound my wrists, rubbed his thumb along the faint red marks.
“These will fade,” he says, examining them, a hint of regret in his voice. “Probably within an hour.”
Nodding, I close my eyes, count to ten, and then move to stand. I begin to dress, feeling his eyes on me from the bed.
“Jesus, Harlow. You don’t have to rush off,” he says, his voice thick and sleepy. The sky outside is deep lavender post-sunset. “Oliver won’t be home until late.”
I open my mouth, saying, “I should . . .” and pointing vaguely north, toward home.
He nods, watching me put everything back on before he pats a heavy hand on the bed. “Harlow, you shouldn’t run off.” Pushing to sit at the edge of the mattress, he says, “Stay. Let me . . . fuck, I don’t know. Set up a bath for you, or . . . just stay here. It was intense. Wasn’t it intense?”
It was. It was so intense that I’m suddenly second-guessing everything that brought me here.
As I gather my things to leave, I’m not sure if being with Finn is an escape, or a new dangerous obsession.
Chapter FOUR
Finn
THE LIGHT CHANGES and I step off the curb, crossing the street in the middle of a small crowd. With my phone pressed to my ear, I listen as my brother Colton rattles off a list of things that will have to be repaired, most of which need to be done before the boats can leave the dock again.
“And you’re sure the wiring’s shot?” I ask. My stomach churns and I feel the need to clarify. “Do you know if it’s the wiring itself, or have you checked the fuse panel?”
I hear him sigh and can imagine him taking off his hat, using the brim to scratch the top of his head. It’s Tuesday and he’s worked straight through the weekend on this. I’m sure he’s beat. “Checked the panel myself while Levi was in the wheelhouse with a meter. We replaced any bad fuses and every goddamn one of them blew as soon as we flipped the breakers.”
“Fuck.”
“Pretty much.”
“So what’s the plan?” I ask, stepping into the shade of a bright red canvas awning. The sun is high this time of day, the sidewalks clean and nearly empty of shadows.
“I need to replace a bunch of wires, figure out how to pigtail them in on the damaged lines. It’s gonna take some time.”
“Jesus. I need to be home, not in fucking California of all places.”
I lean against the wall of a brick building, trying to figure out exactly how all this happened. It feels like it’s been one thing after another this year; add that to a long line of years with not enough fish and not enough money and well, I’m in fucking California.
But Colt isn’t having it. “Stop,” he says. “We’ve got it handled here. We need you there, figuring out the next step. We’ve made it through worse. We’ll make it through this, too.”
I take a moment before I ask the question I’m dreading. “So how long?”
He blows out a breath and I can practically hear him calculating. “I need to unbolt and pull panels from the wheelhouse floor,” he says. “At least a couple of days.”
It could be better. It could definitely be worse. I do the mental calculation of how much money we’ll lose being off the water. “You serviced the engine?” I ask.