Sol

We were supposed to check out by eleven and head back to Philly by noon. But given how hard his hips slap against mine and how I’m gripping the edge of the mattress to keep from falling over the side, I’m reminded why we extended our stay and why I had to call my father to tell him I wasn’t coming home yet.

Finn’s arm hooks under my mine as we lay on our sides, his hand arching my neck so he can kiss me as he pumps. I want to kiss him. I do. But the position makes it hard and so does the force of my next orgasm.

His fingers tug on my nipples, only to slip down further to tease my throbbing center. I fall onto my stomach with my next release. As he finishes and he slumps on top of me, I know that at least for the moment we’re both sated.

I shimmy beneath him, trying to lift my head. “Sorry,” he says, rolling off me and collapsing onto his back.

With a whole lot of sleep-deprived effort, I scoot across the bed and closer to him, bending to kiss his lips. “Are you tired?”

“Oh, yeah,” he answers.

I trace an invisible line between his pecs. “Are you hungry?”

“That, too,” he confesses.

It’s what he claims, but he seems so alert. Impressive, considering we’ve barely slept. I edge a little closer, causing him to lift his arm and tuck me against him.

As I gather the sheets around us, I debate whether I should order us a late lunch or an early dinner, seeing we missed breakfast entirely. Mostly, though, I’m just ready to sleep.

“I want to talk to you about something,” he says.

His tone is serious. Yet I find him grinning when I glance up. “What is it?” I ask.

“Move in with me.”

I blink a few times, wondering if I misheard. “Did you say―”

“Yeah. I want you to move in with me.”

He laughs when I lift my head and he sees my face. My expression must be classic. “I’m serious,” he insists. “I’ve already discussed it with Wren. She’s fine with it and she’ll still have the entire second floor to herself.”

When I don’t answer right away, his expression softens. “You weren’t expecting this, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t,” I answer him quietly.

He strokes my cheek. “You don’t seem happy,” he points out.

“It’s not that I’m not happy you asked,” I answer. “I mean, it tells me you’re serious about us.”

He frowns. “Of course I am. Don’t you know what you mean to me?”

If I’m being honest, I don’t. At least not completely.

“If it’s Wren, we can find someplace else to live. I’ve banked and made enough fighting to buy another house outright.” He scans my face when I don’t respond. “I know you love the house, but I can’t ask my sister to move out just because I want someone to move in.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” I quickly add.

He shifts us so we’re facing each other. “Then what is it?”

It’s a lot of things. I gather the blankets against my breasts, thinking matters through. “Finn, I love you. You know I do. I always tell you.”

“But I haven’t said it back,” he says, finishing my thoughts, but not exactly my words. “It’s not really in me. Not something I go around saying.”

My gaze falls to his chest. His muscles are pronounced from the way he’s tensing his body. But I’m not certain if I’m the sole cause of the tension or if there’s more to what he’s claiming. “You’ve never told anyone?”

“Never,” he admits.

It makes me feel better to hear he’s never said it to anyone. That doesn’t mean I still don’t wish he’d say it to me. But I won’t force him or back him into a corner to hear him say something he may never be ready to share. “Okay,” I say, trying to respect his honesty and where he’s coming from.

“Hey,” he says, kissing the tip of my nose. “That doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.”

My breath hitches, yet I’ll admit my surprise is brief. Maybe I’m too needy, but if he can’t say it, it’s hard to believe he can mean it.

“It’s not about the sex,” he says. “That’s not why I’m asking you to move in, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t like being without you. Every time you go home to your folks . . .” He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just hate it when you’re gone.”

“I know,” I tell him.

“Do you?” he asks, cocking his head. “It’s the truth.”

I nod, but the motion is so subtle, I’m not sure he notices. “I can tell by the way you hold me and how you’re always careful not to hurt me.”

“Then what’s bothering you?” He makes a face. “Besides your dad hunting me down and burying me beneath a plantain tree like he told me he would.”

“It was a mango tree,” I clarify. We’re both trying to make light of it, but he’s not coaxing that smile he wants from me and I can’t seem to rile it, either.

“Babe,” he says, rubbing his forehead against mine.

“Finn, I start the path to my doctoral program in the fall. It’s a hard course, and the money I’ve saved will only cover minimal expenses―”

“I’m not asking you to pay rent, utilities, or even groceries. I’m only telling you I want you with me.” He adjusts his position. “Kill and Sofia lived together before they were married. Yeah, her mom and Teo didn’t like it, but it worked out for them.”

“But Sofia wasn’t completely dependent on Killian,” I remind him. “She earned her own money. Finn, I won’t be able to do that.”

“I don’t care. I’ll take care of you.”

“I don’t want you to take care of me.” I don’t mean it the way it comes out and the hurt registering on his face makes me instantly regret my words. I press my hand against his chest. “You know what I mean, right? All this is too soon and a lot more than I’m ready for.”

“I’m not asking you to marry me,” he says.

“I know,” I respond, my quiet tone reflecting my disappointment. While I’m not ready for marriage, it would mean more if that’s what he was asking.

His hand glides along the curve of my waist, his voice lowering from the depth of his emotions. “Me asking you to move in was supposed to be a good thing, show you that I’m serious about us and prove you’re the only one I want to be with.”

“I know,” I tell him, unable to meet his eyes. “But I can’t.”

For a few long minutes, neither of us speaks. Our chests are touching, but he feels so far away. “Finn, don’t push me away,” I say when he withdraws.

He squares his jaw. “I’m not the one keeping us apart,” he answers.

His words just about kill me. My eyes sting, blurring my vision. But as tough as he is, I swear my tears are his kryptonite.

“Sol, don’t,” he says, gathering me to him. “Look . . . I’m not trying to hurt you.”

He clutches me as I weep against his chest. I don’t mean to get so upset and it’s not something I often do around him. He’s my heaven on earth. So the fact that I’m crying makes me realize exactly how much I’ve been holding in. “I’m living a fantasy with you,” I tell him.

“A sexual one?” he asks.

He’s trying to make me laugh and he succeeds, even as my tears finish falling. I meet his face, my smile soft. “What I mean is, my life with you doesn’t feel real sometimes. It’s more like a dream, an escape to someplace better. We laugh, have fun, attend events and enjoy each other, you know?”

He nods, like he understands. “Yeah. It’s been real good. That’s why I’m asking you to live with me. I like what we have and want to keep it going.”

“But it’s not reality, Finn. At least my reality. It’s only a temporary reprieve from my problems.”

“You mean your mom,” he clarifies.

Catholic guilt is such a bitch. “Yes, my mom. I’ve ignored her to be with you. It’s not right, and I hate myself for subbing out time with her just to be happy.”

“You’ve had it rough. Is it such a bad thing to be happy? To want some joy after all the shit you’ve been through? I hope not,” he murmurs when I don’t answer. “That kind of happy―the kind I don’t have to fake is what I feel when I’m with you.”

“I feel it, too,” I tell him gently.

“Good,” he says. He lifts his hand to hold my face, his gaze so intense I grow perfectly still. “I think we both damn well deserve it.”

I push up when his lips sweep over mine. The way he kisses me is so lazy, but so sexy, my body melts against his. He rolls on top of me, positioning his body so he can play with my breasts and his growing length can slide and harden against my thigh. 

I adjust my legs beneath him, causing his penis to fall between them. He lifts off me, just enough to grin his thanks before diving back and attacking my mouth with increasing fervor. He knows he makes me hot. But at this moment, I want to return some of that heat.

Using slow tilts of my pelvis, I urge him onto his side, continuing to kiss him and allowing him to play. Does he know what he does to me? How drunk I get from the scent of his skin, his taste, his touch . . . how the thought of him when I’m alone is enough to cause my hands to wander?

Again, I rock my lower body, encouraging him onto his back and then rolling on top of him. I doubt I’m the first girl to straddle him. But I want to be the one he begs not to stop. My fingernails trail down his skin to his ribs, causing him to jerk. I do it again, knowing I’m tickling him and making it a game.

He jumps again, snagging my wrist. I grin as I tug on his lip and pull away. “You don’t play nice,” he says, his eyelids heavy.

“No?” I ask, dragging my pelvis over his thick staff.

He growls, drawing out the sound. Between those throaty sounds and the way his erection builds with each pass of my hips, I’m having a hard time keeping quiet and staying focused.

His palms push against my chest, making me think he wants to be the one on top until they squeeze my breasts all the way down to tips. I whimper, involuntarily pressing harder against his thickening staff and adding to my pleasure.

Finn’s smile is so full of lust, I almost can’t take it. “You like this?” he asks, rolling my nipples and eliciting another gasp. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”

If he’d like me to answer, I can’t. Not with what he’s doing to me. I lift one leg and reach for his erection, watching him as I attempt to join us. His chest expands and contracts with each harsh breath, but I don’t stop, slowly easing down until our bodies become one.

I fall forward, wanting desperately to kiss him. His arms wrap around me tightly, making it hard to move. I’m expecting him to flip me over and take control. But then his hands smooth down to my ass, encouraging my movements and forcing me to go faster.

My head snaps away from his. I can’t keep kissing him, not with how loud I’m being and not when my core tenses around him. I lift off him, alternating between bouncing and rocking my hips, digging my nails into his shoulders. He arches his spine, clamping his jaw and swearing through his teeth.

My body moves faster, agonized bliss tearing through me. I collapse on top of him when I peak, overwhelmed with passion and the spasms claiming my body. But Finn’s firm hold and the way he continues to drag my body against his prolongs it, leaving me a trembling mess.

As my orgasm recedes, he lifts my hand, pulling two fingers into his mouth and gliding them in and out. “Touch yourself while you ride me,” he rasps, giving them one last flick with his tongue.

“Okay,” I obey, my head spinning from how hard I released.

I lean back in a sharp angle, grasping his ankle for support. It’s my lover’s turn to feel all that pleasure and I intend to give it to him. My slick fingers lower between my legs. “Is this what you want, baby?” I ask, my words releasing between heavy pants. “Is this what you like?”

He mutters another curse as he watches, helping me take him hard. His skin reddens with each quick pass and from the frantic movements of my hand. This is supposed to be for him, but as my body tightens I realize how wrong I am.

This is all about us. It always has been. I feel it as I peak and his body bucks beneath me. As I fall back, I think we’re done. Yet as good as it felt, I’m miserable it has to end.

We lay in a mess of limbs for what seems like too long. But then Finn stirs beneath me, untangling my legs just to toss them over his shoulders. As he begins to pump, I know we’re far from done. I reach for him, whispering words of love and lust, begging him to go harder. He kisses my throat, eagerly complying, his thrusts deep and primal.

Our insatiable appetites remind us both that we’re young and passionate and desperate for more of each other. Damn it, we need to be.

I meant what I said. My time with him is an escape, a moment for the darkness to skitter away and the light that Finn brings to gather me in its warmth. What I never expected was for all sense of light to abandon me.

Or for the darkness to arrive in one mighty burst.