Page 83 of Riptide

“God, Finn,” he murmurs, voice ragged against my skin. “You feel so fucking good. You were made to take my cock, weren’t you?”

I moan into his mouth as he kisses me again, this time messier.

Our rhythm builds, as does my orgasm. I can feel the heat settling at the base of my spine, my balls tingling, and just as I’m about to reach down to stroke myself, he’s there, his firm grip slicking up and down in a rhythm that makes me crazy.

“Foxx,” I gasp, teeth clenched. “Baby, I’m gonna lose it. Come with me. Fuck, I need you to come with me.”

His eyes flash as his pace never falters.

I come with a cry that shudders through me, my whole body locking up as I spill between us, his name torn from my throat, raw and real and everything I’ve been holding back.

And then he’s right there with me, buried deep, hips jerking, voice cracking as he groans into my neck. It’s not just a release, it’s a surrender. A sound like he’s unraveling, giving in, givingover. Letting go of whatever he’s held tight for too long.

Chapter thirty-four

Foxx

Myhandreachesacrossthe mattress before I’m fully awake, searching for the warmth that should still be there, but it’s just fabric and empty space. As my eyes blink open, for a second, I have no idea where I am. The ceiling isn’t mine. The muted gray light filtering through the curtains isn’t familiar. There’s a faint scent in the air—lavender, salt, something clean that isn’t my detergent.

Then the memory of last night rolls in. The ocean, Finn falling apart in my arms. Then later, his body under mine, the way he looked at me while I touched him. The way he clung to me when he came. The way he held my hand after, and we fell asleep wrapped up in each other.

It’s the kind of memory that I never want to forget.

But as I shift to sit up, seeing my glasses resting on the bedside table, I remember that the room is still and quiet. No sound from the bathroom. No creak of the floorboards outside. It’s just me in the silence, and something uneasy passes through me.

Has he left?

I don’t get to ponder the thought, because the doorknob twists and the door swings open. Finn walks in, wearing one of my hoodies I brought with me, carrying two paper cups of coffee in a holder and a brown paper bag in the other. His hair’s still a little messy, cheeks pink from the wind.

My breath lets go all at once.

“Hi,” I say.

He looks down at my bare chest, all heat and want in his gaze. “Good morning.”

Running a hand through my hair, I lean back against the headboard, trying to shake that feeling of him not being here.It doesn’t matter now because he is,I remind myself.

“What’s that face?” he asks, eyebrows pinching.

I forgot how perceptive he can be. I shove a hand over the back of my neck, rubbing the remaining tension out. “Thought maybe you’d… I don’t know.”

“Vanished in the night?” He sets the coffee on the bedside table, not even a little offended by my assumption. “You really think I’d let you fuck me like that and ghost you?”

I let out a breath that might be a laugh, could also be embarrassment too. “No. I just…woke up and you were gone.”

“I went to find a place that sells real coffee.” He passes me a cup, then crawls onto the bed beside me with the paper bag between us. “And breakfast sandwiches. You’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, cracking the lid, releasing the earthy aroma.

He nudges the bag toward me with a cheeky grin. “I know you’d probably rather eat me for breakfast—truly, I don’t blame you—but I didn’t go all the way across the street so it could get cold, so eat. It’s still warm.”

I smother a bubble of laughter at his playfulness sneaking out again, even after the heaviness of last night. “All the way across the street, huh? Tough going for an athlete like you.”

He takes a bite of his sandwich. “I know, it was a hike, which is why I’m going to let you eat, then I want to revisit the little tidbit of information you let slip last night.”

I reach in and unwrap one of the sandwiches, searching my brain for what I said. “Which part?” The slightly greasy paper crinkles in my hand, and I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I take the first bite. Finn’s already halfway through his, legs stretched out in front of him, hoodie bunched up at the waist. He’s sitting close, our thighs touching.

“The part where you said you’d let me fuck you.” My food tries to make a hasty exit through my windpipe, making me cough and splutter. Setting my sandwich down, the heat building in my body is hotter than the coffee he brought me. “Did you mean it?” he asks, unabashedly honest.

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