Page 120 of Finn Rhodes Forever

His smile lifted higher and he chuckled. The sound fizzed over my skin. The frustration from moments before popped like a bubble as I grinned back at him.

Glancing at Finn propped on his elbow, hair falling into his eyes, a muscle in my chest twinged and I realized something.

I didn’t want this summer to end.

We stayed on the beach, chatting and watching the water until the sky began to dim. We rode back to the bar at a comfortable pace, meandering down the streets.

“I don’t know why I didn’t get another bike years ago,” I admitted to Finn as we leaned them against the wall in the hallway inside the door of the bar.

“Now you don’t need to.”

He dropped a kiss on my cheek, too quick and fast for my liking, before tugging me upstairs.

I bit my lip in anticipation. When we reached the hallway between our apartments, he kept walking to the end and my expression turned confused. A ladder sat against the wall, and he dropped my hand to set it up below the roof hatch. After opening the hatch, he stepped down, helping me up as I climbed onto the roof.

When I saw the blanket spread out on the roof with a pile of throw pillows, I laughed.

“What’s this?” Across the sky, the sun was setting.

“Thought we’d watch the sunset.” He dusted his hands off and led me over to the blankets. “If you want.”

“I want.” I smiled at the sky, dusty purples and indigo blues.

We sat on the blanket, staring at the sky. Up here, we could hear the chatter from outside the bar, the light din of traffic, the laughter of people walking down Main Street. Our town was so full of life, full of people enjoying their lives.

A funny thought struck me and my heart clenched. How long had it been since I enjoyed my life like this? Without Finn, what would I be doing right now? Working at the bar or obsessing about my studies. Maybe camping by myself, eating packaged pasta and staring into the fire.

Finn had blown back into town and knocked all that aside. He showed me the moments that were worth living for.

“Come here,” Finn whispered, lying back against the pillows, corded, tattooed arm out and open for me. I tucked myself into his side, sighing as I relaxed into his warm, hard chest, eyes on the sky.

“You smell amazing.” My voice was quiet. His hand came to my hair, toying lightly, and he chuckled.

We watched the sky as the sun sank below the horizon. The sky darkened and tiny pinpricks of light appeared while I listened to Finn’s heartbeat against my ear. His chest rose and fell as my world narrowed to our little bubble—the soft brush of his t-shirt against my cheek, his warmth, the sounds from the street below, the tickle of his fingers in my hair. My hand on his flat stomach.

At one point, I lifted my head to look at him and he watched me back. We stared openly at each other, connected in a way I’d never felt before.

I lifted up on my elbow and kissed him.

He exhaled against me as my lips grazed his. The light scrape of his stubble against my chin sent sparks across my skin and as I deepened the kiss, he lifted me on top of him. His tongue slid against the seam of my mouth and I let him in.

He groaned against my mouth, stroking my tongue with his. The sound of pure pleasure hit me between my thighs, and beneath me, he hardened. I was breathless but I couldn’t stop kissing him. My hips tilted against his, and even through our clothes, his cock against my center flooded me with heat. The rhythm of his tongue against mine wound me higher, tighter. The way he moved in my mouth was like how his fingers moved between my legs, firm and unyielding, doling out pure pleasure at his pace, not mine.

“Tonight?” I whispered against his mouth in between kisses.

His eyes devoured me. He knew what I meant. “Not tonight.”

Frustration ached between my legs.

“Why not?” I breathed.

He pulled back to study me. The corner of his mouth twitched but his eyes burned hot and possessive. “I’m waiting until I think you love me.”

I searched his eyes, frozen. The words I wanted to say were like glitter in water. I could see them but when I reached for them, they slipped through my fingers.

I blinked, annoyed with myself. It shouldn’t be this hard. Some people said it all the time—to their parents, to their friends, to their kids and their pets—but lying on a blanket entangled with someone I’d known my whole life, someone who might know me better than any other person on the planet, I couldn’t say it.

A question appeared in my head, and my muscles tensed. If I said the words, would the chase be over for Finn?

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