The second the door to Finn’s apartment closes behind us, he grabs me. His hands slide beneath my top as his lips crash over mine. I kiss him like I'm trying to crawl inside him and maybe I am. It's like the floodgates have opened. I want him. Perhaps I've always wanted him like this and have just been denying it to myself. His lips break away from mine and he tears my tank over my head, throwing it to the side. Next go my shoes and jeans, until I'm standing in nothing but my underwear.  

I rake my nails over his stomach before I tug his t-shirt over his head. His red-hot skin presses against my stomach, his teeth clamp down on my lip, and I tremble, my breath hitching. Clamping his hands around my thighs, he lifts me, wrapping my thighs around his narrow hips. It's a frenzy of hands and lips laced with desperate breaths. 

The next thing I know, my back hits the sofa. Finn presses between my thighs, hot and heavy and demanding. I scratch my nails over the back of his neck and his lips drop to my throat, working over my skin until I'm burning up for him. I throw my head back against the sofa cushions. He nips and licks over my neck. Hot breaths dance over my skin as his greedy hands grab at my breasts. 

His tongue traces the lacy edge of my bra and my chest heaves desperately. I just want him to touch me. He groans against my throat and the sensation of his lips, the vibration of that noise sends a flood of heat throughout me.

“Fuck,” he says, his hands skimming along my waist. My hands glide over his defines biceps, over the large bulge of muscle covered by his warm, smooth skin. He glances up, his dark eyes setting on my face and there is a primitive want dancing behind his eyes. This is absolute lust, unbridled passion. Something that probably shouldn’t happen because we are friends and I know once that line is crossed there is truly no coming back. I can tell he’s hesitating, possibly mulling over the same thought in his mind. But, as wrong as it may be, I just want him. I want this. The need, the kisses and touches. A tight pull forms between my thighs and I find myself grabbing his hand and shoving it between my legs.

“Ah, fuck, Hope,” he breathes as his fingers slip beneath the edge of my thong, playing over the wet mess he’s made of me.

“Shit.” I fidget underneath his weight and he plunges his fingers in hard and deep as he nips at my neck. An unrestrained groan rumbles next to my ear as he buries his fingers deeper inside me, twisting and rubbing in ways that have my eyes slamming shut on a laboured breath. Finn sits up on his knees and adjust himself. He takes he’s free hand and pulls my thong to the side as his finger work inside me. His thumb goes to my clit, pressing and rubbing as he watches himself touching me. There’s the slightest smirk of satisfaction that works its way over his defined features before he subtly chews at his bottom lip.

“You’re so fucking wet, Hope. So beautiful,” he exhales a long, hard breath as he slowly leans down and swipes his tongue over me. “Shit…” I grab at the arm of the sofa in a desperate attempt to ground myself because this…him…his tongue, his fingers, it’s almost too much. With each thrust of his hand, his tongue works over me and his thrust grow harder, more determined to take me to that brink and hurl me over the edge. His tongue circles my clit, sucking. His fingers slam into me with such force he scoots me to the end of the sofa. My heels dig into the cushion; my breaths grow shallow and uneven. Heat builds in my stomach and that slow tingle turning to a gradual burn. One last lick and thrust and everything explodes. Bliss shoots through me like an angry hit of heroin and I moan, my hands flying to his head and lacing through the thick strands of his hair. “Shit,” I pant, forcing his face away from me as I try to catch my breath. “Finnley. Just, shit…”

And just like that, the desire masking his face fades away and confusion wrinkles his brow. Finn quickly pulls his hand away from me and hops to his feet, backing away from the couch like I’m some infested, mangy mut that just bit him.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, swiping a hand through his hair.

I sit up, reaching for my clothes and quickly dressing. I feel soiled and tainted and shit…why did I let him do that? As soon as I pull my shirt over my head, I’m sliding my feet into my shoes, and then I glance up at him. His back is to me and he’s standing still enough to pass as a statue. Then his chin falls to his chest and he exhales. “You need to leave, Hope.”

I don’t say a word. I simply push to my feet and brush past him, sucking back all the nasty things I want to say to him as I open the door, but I do slam it shut behind me. And hard.

I walk straight to my car and hop in, starting the engine and peeling away from the curb. I don’t know why I’m upset. Guys are fucking guys and Finn is no fucking different. At least with Kyan, he’s upfront with it. Finn’s just….I groan and turn the radio up as loud is it will go, belting out the lyrics to some Royal Blood’s song.

On my way up to my apartment, I stop in front of Poppy’s door, debating on whether to knock or not. I glance at my watch and it’s too late. I don’t want to wake Patrick up, so I head up to my apartment, grab a bottle of wine, and crawl in the bed.

Story of my fucking life.