Chapter 32 Finn
Finn
I knew it.
I knew she wanted him.
I knew the moment she pressed herself against him in that hallway, the way her perfume changed, thickened with heat, with need. I saw it in the way he looked at her afterward, in the way he didn’t touch her even though he wanted to.
But this?
This is so much better than I ever could have imagined.
From my vantage point across the street, the blinds leave just enough space for me to see inside, to witness everything. My view is perfect. Her bedroom is bathed in golden lamplight, the sheets a mess beneath them, their bodies tangled together.
Carson’s broad back moves as he works his way down her body, disappearing between her thighs. Fuck.
I tighten my grip on myself, my other hand bracing against the glass as I watch her fingers curl into his hair, her head tipping back against the pillows.
I can’t hear her, but I don’t need to.
I can see everything. The arch of her back, the way her lips part, the way her thighs tremble around his head.
She’s falling apart beneath him, and he’s loving it.
I stroke myself slowly, my breath steady, my focus razor-sharp. This is a gift. A moment meant just for me, just for us.
Because this is only temporary.
She thinks she’s making a choice.
She thinks she has control.
But she has no idea that I’m the one pulling the strings.
Carson lifts his head, his mouth glistening, his shoulders rising and falling with deep, hungry breaths. His hands slide up her body, pinning her wrists above her head as he buries himself inside her, rolling his hips, pushing deeper.
I squeeze my cock, dragging my palm over the tip, fucking lost in the sight of them.
This isn’t just fucking.
This is more.
It’s primal. It’s possessive.
And it should make me angry.
It should make me jealous.
But it doesn’t.
Because all I can think about is how good he’d look above me. How good he’d sound groaning my name. How much I need to feel her skin under my hands. How much I need to watch her fall apart for me.
They don’t know it yet. But soon, they will.
With a slow, shuddering exhale, I come, my release splattering hot against my fingers, my forehead pressing against the glass as I watch Carson bury himself deep, as I watch Willow tighten around him, as they shatter together.
I drag my tongue over my lips, breath evening out, a new kind of hunger settling in.
Now that they’ve crossed this line—now is the time.
For me to make my move.