Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GENEVIEVE
I do my best to pretend my body isn’t still buzzing, even nearly a half-hour later, while Finn and I sit on the couch, watching Schitt’s Creek as we eat the dinner I’d prepared for us —veggie and black bean enchiladas and Spanish rice.
I didn’t plan on giving him a blow job when he first arrived. I figured we could use the twenty minutes it took for the food to cook to have sex, if for no other reason than to remind myself why we’re doing this. That it’s just sex. A means to an end.
But my plan backfired spectacularly.
I still don’t know what came over me. All I know is that being with Finn feels different. Safer . As if I don’t have to hide from him. The way he touches me, the way he looks at me, it makes me feel seen in a way I never have before.
Whenever I asked Ethan to try certain things, he made me feel like I was wrong for wanting them. Like there was something broken in me for needing more than the bare minimum.
I convinced myself it was okay. I could take care of my needs on my own.
But Finn allows me to explore my desires. Hell, he even encourages it. There are no feelings of shame or inadequacy. No having to shrink myself to make someone else comfortable. Only raw hunger.
Now that I’ve had a taste of Finn, of chocolate molten lava cake, I doubt I’ll ever be satisfied with just vanilla ice cream again.
A part of me thinks I should put a stop to all this foreplay. That I should take a page out of Ethan’s book and insist Finn and I stick to mechanical, emotionless sex. Make it clinical. Impersonal.
But I get the feeling that’s impossible with us. We have too strong of a connection. Too much history. Too much…chemistry.
“Are you done?” Finn’s deep voice yanks me out of my thoughts, and I snap my gaze toward him.
Apparently, I’d been so lost in my head he thinks I’m finished eating, even though I barely touched my food.
But I’m not all that hungry.
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay?” He eyes my plate.
“I had a late lunch,” I lie, standing from the couch and picking up my dish.
“I got it,” he says, taking it from me.
I murmurmy thanks and follow him into the kitchen, where we settle into our usual routine of cleaning up after dinner. He rinses the dishes before placing them into the dishwasher while I clean up the leftovers and put them in the refrigerator.
It’s a routine we’ve done hundreds of times. Tonight, though, there’s an electricity in the room that hasn’t been here any other time.
Every brush of his fingers as I pass him a plate, every slight lean of his body when he reaches for something near me, sends shivers over my skin. I tell myself it’s just residual tension from earlier. That Finn could be anyone and I’d be acting like this.
But I know that’s a lie.
“Let me squeeze by,” Finn murmurs, his voice lower now. Rougher.
His hand lands on my hip as he leans into me, reaching for the cabinet overhead and setting a wine glass inside. His chest is warm and solid against my back, his breath feathering over my neck.
A soft sound escapes me before I can swallow it down, especially when his groin brushes against my ass. He’s not even hard, but my libido doesn’t seem to care. She’s ready to go, desperate to experience the bliss only Finn’s been able to pull out of me.
“Everything okay, Genevieve?” he asks, amusement dripping from his voice.
“Uh, huh. Great.” My response comes out uneven, my pitch higher than usual.
He steps back, but when I glance over my shoulder, his eyes trace over my every movement.
“You sure about that?” Arms crossed, he leans against the island, a slow smirk stretching his lips.
“Absolutely.” I grab the cleaner and spray some onto the counter, wiping down the surface, even though I distinctly remember him doing the same thing seconds ago.
It gives me something to do. Something to focus on that isn’t him. That isn’t the heat simmering in my veins, making it harder and harder to pretend this is nothing more than a convenient arrangement.
But Finn doesn’t let me pretend for long.
I feel him approach before I hear him, his body radiating heat as he reaches for my wrist and takes the dish towel from me.
“You seem tense.” His breath grazes my ear.
It takes everything in me to stay upright, my knees threatening to give out.
“I’m fine,” I barely squeak out.
“Then perhaps I can interest you in some dessert.”
“I… I’m not sure what I have.” I swallow hard.
He chuckles, the low vibration hitting me in places I didn’t know existed. “We both know there’s only one kind of dessert I’m interested in.”
Before I can react, he spins me to face him, his hands gripping my hips, his body pressing me against the counter. The moment his mouth crashes into mine, any illusion of control disintegrates.
Finn kisses me like he’s starving. Like I’m the only thing that can ever satisfy his hunger. And I want to believe it’s real. I want to believe it so badly it scares me.
In one swift move, he shoves my yoga pants down my legs and lifts me onto the counter I just cleaned.
When he tears his lips from mine, I ask, “What are you doing?”
His grin is pure sin, the kind that always precedes him doing something dangerous.
“Having dessert.”
Then he drops to his knees, pulling me to the edge of the island. His tongue swipes along my center, his fingers inching inside me, and I can’t think anymore. Can’t breathe. Can’t do anything but feel.
“God, I love dessert,” I moan, fisting my hands in his hair.
“Me, too, Genevieve,” he rasps, briefly meeting my gaze before returning his attention to me. “I love your dessert. I’m so damn addicted to it. Can eat it every day and still not get my fill.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself not to fall for his words. He’s just saying what he thinks I want to hear. Just playing the part of a man who can’t get enough of me.
That’s all this is.
A fantasy.
Nothing more.
In a few days, we’ll go back to normal. Pretend this never happened.
And I’ll pretend it didn’t break me to let him go.