Page 69 of Secrets in Love
“Oh my God. Yes. Yes.”
I could hear her breathing. Panting. Her sobs catching in her throat. And I could only pray the rooms were separated enough that no one else could hear. I gripped myself so hard and tight it bordered on pain because something told me Evie liked it rough. That she would be just as bossy as she was outside the bedroom, that she would rule and command me with a hard-ass iron fist and that I would love every second of it and beg for it harder. Just thinking of her imposing her will over me had my hips thrusting off the bed and sweat dripping from my body.
“Can you hear what you do to me, Evie? I’m going to come.”
“I’m coming too, all over my fingers, wishing they were yours…”
“Fuck, you’re so hot, Evie.”
“Oh, Nate!”
My body shuddered, and we both cried out. The orgasm was so intense, the pulsing so deep and spilling so hard and long, I swear I went blind. The whole room went black. My lungs were screaming for oxygen as I gasped, sucking in air like I’d been trapped beneath a monster wave and had finally emerged at the surface, and I could hear Evie doing the same. Our breathing slowed until I could no longer hear her.
“I love you, Gidge.”
I had no idea if she heard me. With my hand resting against the wall, I stared at the ceiling till I fell asleep with the biggest smile I had ever had on my face.
Bright and early the following day, I was up, showered, dressed, and making as much noise as I could in the hopes of rousing my wall buddy, but it seemed Miss Austen was out cold. Bored and in search of something to do other than jack off over Evie again, I snuck out into the hall and knocked on Finn’s door. I was pretty sure he hadn’t come home last night, but just in case, I came up with the excuse of leaving my deodorant at the hotel if I got busted snooping.
As suspected, there was no answer, and I enjoyed looking around. In typical Finn fashion, his room was immaculate, clean, organized, and styled. Nothing seemed out of place. There was nothing scandalous in his drawers or his medicine cabinet. The only thing of interest I found was a sketchpad filled with drawings of Scarlett, some of which were pretty saucy, and a stack of Jane Austen books on his desk. The books were no surprise. Evie had told me he bought them as a gift for Scarlett, had begun readingPrideandPrejudice, and had been unable to stop. The poor guy had it bad, but who the hell was I to judge after last night?
There was still no other sign of life coming from the other rooms, so I headed to the kitchen with the dog-eared book, thinking I’d see what the fuss was about over some breakfast. I’d not long sat with a cup of Evie’s chai tea and Vegemite toast and been instantly sucked into the world of Longbourn and its inhabitants when I heard the front door creak open.
So loud was Finn’s piss-poor effort to sneak back into the house that even the tool’s stomach could be heard growling as he tiptoed right past me. The state of his hair and clothing left me to presume he and Scarlett had made up, and I hoped that was the case because Golden-Boy was open for the slaughter, and the carcass I was about to feed from, could provide shelter should he become aware of my own late-night adventures.
“You slut!”
Completely shitting himself, he spun on his toes, saw me, and then froze. Guilt was written all over his face, and hIs eyes were wide as saucers, but only briefly. He soon found his confident, some might of said, arrogant swagger and made an impressive recovery.
“It’s called a book, Nate. It has lots of words and tells a story. Some even have pictures.”
“Yes, I am familiar with the concept. What I don’t get is how a girl that clearly has you so twisted that you’ve begun collecting and reading Austen is the same girl you treated like shit in my company last night.” To emphasise my point, I waved the book in his face.
“I didn’t treat her like shit! Well, I did a bit, I guess… But Scarlett will forgive me... I think.”
“You think? You doing the walk of shame at dawn implies you already made up.”
“We did a bit. But not fully.”
Okay. This is getting interesting.
“So, where are you creeping in from?”
After checking the room and ensuring we were alone, he took a swig of the milk he’d just snatched from the fridge, then tilted toward me. “She wouldn’t let me in, so I slept on her doorstep.”
This is too good.
“Jesus, Finn.”
"What?” He cried incredulously, “I thought she'd come back down. Waiting for forgiveness on her doorstep seemed romantic, but then I fell asleep and woke up with a cat licking my face. She did bring me hot cocoa and a blanket, so she can't be too pissed. And I'm sure she'll wake up and see I didn't mean to hurt her. I was just trying to be respectful.”
“Respectful? Respectful to who? Pretending you’re not in a relationship with someone you apparently love doesn’t seem very respectful.”
“Isn’t it obvious? To you and to Shelby. I didn’t want to make you feel awkward by flaunting Scarlett in your face.”
“For fuck’s sake, Finn. Shelby’s been gone over seven years, and while I miss her every day and always will, do you really think I—or she, for that matter—would want you to grieve forever? You deserve to be happy, to have a life of your own outside of the amazing one you’ve built for Iris. We all do.”
“But—”
