Chapter 18 #2
His attention dragged down my chest and stomach, paused on the curve of my cock, then dipped to my thighs and traveled all the way back up.
Jesus. I wasn’t the self-conscious type, pretty happy with the reactions I got, unbothered by the rare rejection because I simply didn’t care—not usually. But this. This was different.
I shifted and ducked my head. “What?”
One corner of his lips quirked, dimples a tease that wasn’t fully formed. “Maybe it’s you who talks too much.”
A grin floated up from somewhere behind my sternum, the walls seeming to sway with the sweet ebb and swell of my thoughts. “You tellin’ me to put that mouth to better use?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
I fell on top of him—covered his mouth with mine, my hips between his thighs.
He arched to press closer, opening for me, his hands in my hair.
Time slipped away like sand. Not sure when he rolled us over and worked his way down my chest and stomach, kissed my hip bone and the inside of my thigh.
The room tilted when his lips closed around me.
“You don’t have to,” I managed, and his laugh was a hot gust of air that made me shiver.
“I want to, J. How do you not know that by now?” Something about his tone twisted hot through me. I propped myself up on my elbows to watch him—his cocky smirk at odds with an aching softness around the corners.
“I’m just…” I paused for breath. “Checking. Being considerate.”
His eyes went liquid. “The answer’s yes. It’s always yes.”
I love you.
It rose out of nowhere—a puzzle piece clicking into place because oh, yes. Yeah. That made sense, didn’t it? And maybe it should scare me, maybe tomorrow it would, but right now, it felt like the quiet after a storm.
I dragged him up into a kiss as the world melted around the edges.
Morning crept in like a thief, stealing through gaps between the curtains and squeezing into the quiet corners of my mind.
Finn. Where—?
Oh. Curls tickling my nose, my arm heavy around his chest. Still here. He’d said he would be—wispy memory of last night, the city painting a dim glow across the sheets, shadows tangling with my thoughts. “Stay?” I’d asked, lips catching on his throat, tasting salt.
“Yeah.” He’d shifted—into me, not away, his voice a sleepy murmur. “Course.”
“Good,” I’d said. Then… nothing much. Just that gentle sense of falling, spiraling in easy circles toward a velvet kind of black. Sleep, then.
Well, I was awake now. Still a little hazy, reality slipping through in fragments—the rise and fall of Finn’s chest under my hand, the way light caught on the slope of his shoulder.
I’m in love with you.
The thought tasted bright and tart on my tongue, fresh and familiar at once, as if it had been quietly living inside me for a while now.
Not scary, just inevitable, even if I didn’t know what to do with it.
Tell him? He had a string of shitty exes and didn’t want to fall right back into a relationship—had told me himself that he was trying to get out of the habit.
I also still had to evaluate him after yesterday’s surgery. Could I even do it?
He stirred, voice sleep-rough. “Stop thinking so loudly.”
I tucked a smile against the back of his neck, tightening my hold. “File a noise complaint.”
“Paperwork?” He yawned with pointed emphasis, then half-turned his head to squint at me, his lashes crushed at the corners. “Rude.”
“Life’s not a jukebox. Can’t just press a button and it’ll play you exactly the song you want.”
“Obviously. If it were, there’d be coffee.”
“Well.” I brushed my thumb over the faint dip above his sternum. “I may just be able to help with that.”
He rolled onto his back, the sheet dipping to reveal the fine trail of hair below his navel. Sleep and daylight tangled in his smile. “Is this your way of saying thanks for last night’s orgasm?”
“That was nice, but no.” I rose on one elbow to watch him. “It’s my way of saying thanks for being here this morning.”
He blinked, eyes gone soft. “Oh. Okay.”
Keep it light.
I raised an eyebrow. “Eloquent.”
His lips twitched. “Coffee first. Then full sentences.”
“Deal.” For a moment, I let myself drink him in so I’d remember us just like this—sprawled in my bed like we belonged, still naked under the covers. Last night’s heat had mellowed into something quieter under my skin, the gentle tug of a current.
When I rolled out of bed, he whistled like a stereotypical construction worker in a low-budget comedy. I glanced over my shoulder and found him smirking, mischief and something sweeter dancing through his expression. “Come here often?” he asked.
Idiot. I swallowed a chuckle and slipped into a pair of sweatpants. “Yeah, ’bout once a day. I might up the frequency if the hot guy in my bed becomes a regular part of the package.”
Casual enough, right?
He tilted his head, curls a riot against the pillow and a grin still tucked into the corners of his eyes. “Ah—seems you’re ready to discuss subscription plans.”
Yes, please. Except he probably didn’t mean it as a relationship metaphor and more as a throwback joke about hourly rates and background checks, so I made a show of weighing the idea. “Depends on what’s included. I’m a discerning customer.”
“Are you?” He stretched with a lazy roll of his hips, a move so deliberate I damn near forgot about making him coffee.
A smug tilt to his lips said he knew it, too.
Usually, I didn’t find arrogance attractive—but with Finn, it wasn’t arrogance, not really.
It was playfulness, a cheeky kind of charm with subtle traces of uncertainty woven through, easy to miss if you didn’t pay attention.
“Yeah.” I let my mouth quirk. “For instance, a cuddling surcharge would be a red line. Pet names, on the other hand, are negotiable.”
“What if—” Finn flapped a hand, his TV marketeer act interrupted by another yawn. “What if I included both in your package and also threw in unlimited orgasms?”
“Sounds too good to be true.” Oh, did it ever.
“Jesse.” He shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. “Are you trying to wrangle a free trial out of me?”
“Never. Show me the dotted line and I’ll sign right now.” This felt dangerously close to things I wasn’t sure I should say just yet, so I tagged on an easy chuckle. “But first? Coffee.”
“Solid prioritization.”
I took another look at him—sprawled lazily in my bed, a little tired but bright-eyed—then made myself move before I could do something stupid. Like ask him to stay forever.
On my way to the kitchen, I detoured to grab my near-dead phone from my jacket.
How did it go?
I replied while heating the water. Pour-over wasn’t so much fancy as reliable—grind, paper filter, slow spiral of hot water that bloomed into dark circles. A ritual.
It went well. Both okay—one will need more surgery.
I hesitated, but who else would I tell if not Shane?
Finn came home with me after. Think I’m in love with him.
My fingers hovered, as if sending the words made them somehow more real.
I pressed down, exhaled, and replied to another message from my mom about Thanksgiving.
Coffee dripped in a steady rhythm, time for my thoughts to catch up.
I hadn’t planned to fall in love. Not yet anyway, not while I was still figuring out my career and the next five years.
And then… Finn.
Shane must have been on a break between lessons because he answered just as I poured the coffee into two cups—black for Finn, one sugar for me and a second after I decided to indulge today.
Wow
Shane wrote, and I could just picture his wide-eyed expression, played up for a bunch of kids.
Not totally surprised, but that’s big. You tell him yet?
A second message followed right after.
And congrats on the surgery!!! Saving lives, one twin at a time.
Thanks. Novak said I did well. :)
The memory sat warm in my chest, still fresh enough to matter.
And not yet. Not sure where he’s at and I still have to evaluate him.
Ah yes
So much for neutral, huh?
Honestly? Don’t think I ever really was.
Agree. That ship sailed the moment you realized beautiful hooker boy was your new intern.
He had a point.
I left my phone to charge on the windowsill, then took both coffees to the bedroom.
Finn blinked at me from under the covers, looking like he’d maybe dozed off again for another couple of minutes, and it tugged at something wistful in my chest—how easily I could see a string of mornings just like this.
Me coming home from a night shift, maybe, waking him up with coffee in bed, or both of us moving around the kitchen while getting ready for the day, night still pressing against the windows.
Leaving together for a pre-shift run, parting with a kiss after showers and changing into scrubs so he could head off to wherever his next rotation took him.
Except… Yeah. No. We couldn’t exactly post date-night photos or pause too long in each other’s orbit. He was still a resident. I was still his evaluator, for God’s sake—even if his stint with pediatric surgery ended in just a few days, people would remember.
But in here, I could pretend.
“That for me?” Finn asked. His lips crooked, everything about him sleep-soft, anchoring me in the present.
“Who else?” I shuffled onto the bed, careful not to spill anything, and leaned against the headboard. Finn sat up to take his mug from me, then tipped sideways to lean his head on my shoulder, his skin warm and each breath slow, even.
The noise in my head went quiet. This morning—it was ours. I wasn’t due for rounds until much later, while Finn was expected at noon because life wasn’t fair and neither were hospital hierarchies. But we still had time. I draped an arm around his shoulder and took a sip of coffee.
For now, the rest of the world could go to hell.
My badge beeped like a tired bird. Same, same.
First stop coffee, then on to the workroom to check the morning team’s notes. Only I never actually made it—Tay caught me just as I rounded the corner.
“Jesse, hey.” The tilt of his smile seemed wrong. “Got a second?”