Page 28 of Riptide

Fuck yes.

Chapter twelve

Foxx

Thatwasthebestorgasm I’ve ever had. Hands down. No notes.

I should be embarrassed by how quickly that thought forms, how definitive it is. But I’m not. Finn let me own him, gave me everything, but pushed back exactly when I needed him to. It’s like he knew the balance I crave.

Now we’re sprawled across the bed, tangled together, skin tacky with sweat and cum. My chest still rises and falls like I just ran a marathon, and his fingers trace absentminded patterns on my stomach, featherlight and easy. I like it. The air is thick with heat and satisfaction, a lingering haze of sex that settles into my bones, making them heavy, satisfied.

I can’t remember the last time I felt this content, when it wasn’t just my hand giving me mediocre relief.

Finn shifts, and I brace for him to pull away completely, to slip back into that casual, unaffected ease he wears like a second skin. When he stands, his gaze catches mine, and in that singleglance, I think I see something else, but I’m not sure if I’m projecting.

I clear my throat, voice rough. “You good?”

He pauses, stretching, the lean, sculpted lines of his body shifting in the dim light. He looks wrecked in the best way, flushed skin, swollen lips, hair a disaster.

“Better than good,” he says after a beat. “You?”

I let out a breath. “Yeah.”

His gaze drops to himself, and his nose scrunches in a way that shouldn’t be attractive but somehow is. Holding up a hand, he grimaces at the streaks of drying cum across his stomach. “Uh…you got a washcloth or something? Unless you want me to leave a sticky outline on your sheets.”

I chuckle, pushing myself up onto an elbow. “Top drawer in the bathroom. Help yourself.”

He gives me a lazy salute before sauntering off, completely naked and utterly unbothered.

The tap runs, and I hear him mutter something to himself.

I roll onto my back, dragging a hand through my damp hair. My skin hums with the aftershocks of everything we just did, muscles pleasantly sore.

The water stops running in the bathroom, and I hear the soft shuffle of his footsteps before the door creaks open. He appears in the doorway, a damp washcloth in his hand, hair still a chaotic mess. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, neither of us speaks.

“Here,” he says. “It’s a clean one.”

I take it and clean myself up. “Thanks.”

“Mmm.” He steps toward the bed, tosses the other washcloth onto the top of the hamper, and then flops down beside me with an exaggerated sigh. His skin radiates warmth where his arm brushes mine. “That was fun.”

I huff a laugh, throwing my cloth in the same direction. I’ll get it when my legs start working. “Fun is one word for it.”

We turn to face each other. “Mind-blowing? Earth-shattering? Life-changing?” he suggests, eyes twinkling with amusement and I really hope he’s not just fluffing my ego here. He grins, stretching out and clasping his hands behind his head. “I’m just saying, if you need to rework your top ten list, I get it.”

My lips twitch as a laugh rumbles from my chest. I briefly wonder what I should be feeling right now, and I can’t be sure. The truth is, I’ve only slept with one other person besides my ex. This was supposed to be a casual hookup. A fleeting indulgence to scratch an itch I’d ignored for too long. But the realization that I feel comfortable, and not in any rush for this to end, hits me hard. I know that won’t be the same for him, given his age and probable desire not to sleep with only one person, and I just have to accept that, I guess. Jeez, this was supposed to be simple. So why do I want to keep him?

Finn’s eyebrows pinch, considering. “I should probably go,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” I say, throat tight. “Probably.” I think asking him to stay would be weird.

He sits up, running a hand through his hair, his biceps flexing and his hair flopping back into his eyes. Gathering his clothes, he dresses with the same easy confidence he seems to do everything. At the door, our eyes meet again, that look glossing over his once more.

“I’m gonna put this out there, since we didn’t actually fully hook up and have sex… Wanna do it again?” His cheeks turn pink, and a little shudder ofgiddiness?relief?...I don’t know, but it rushes through my veins too. Is he really saying he wants a repeat?

“Fuck yes,” I say on an exhale. “I want to do that again.”

Finn’s eyes light up, boyish and charming. He laughs and shifts on his feet, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with thesudden thrill of getting exactly what he wanted. It’s also cute as fuck, considering how confident he is.

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