30. BAILEY #2
“But you have to keep coming back to this,” I say. “To talking to me. To letting me see you. I need that, Finn.”
“I can do that.”
“I love you too,” I say.
For a second, he doesn’t move at all. Then the air leaves him in a shaky rush, and he pulls me into his arms.
I go willingly, completely, my face pressing against his neck, his hands holding me like he’s afraid and relieved at the same time. He breathes into my hair, and I feel him tremble once, then steady himself, not by pulling away, but by holding on.
“I love you,” he says again, quieter this time, against my temple.
The words move through me slowly, deep and warm.
“I love you too.”
His hand slides up my back. “I missed you.”
“I missed you.”
“I hated the space.”
“Me too.”
“You were right to ask for it.”
“I know that too.”
A small laugh moves through him, rough and uneven. “I was hoping you’d argue with that.”
I pull back enough to look at him. “I’m pregnant and emotionally exhausted. Pick your battles.”
His smile is soft and real, and I realize how badly I’ve missed it.
He touches my cheek again, slower now. “Can I kiss you?”
The question sends warmth through my chest. “You never need to ask that question.”
He leans in carefully, like the kiss is another promise he wants to keep right. His mouth brushes mine once, soft and almost hesitant. Then again, longer. I feel the restraint in him, the care, the way he is giving me room to decide how close we get.
I don’t want room.
Not anymore.
I slide my hand into his hair and pull him to me.
The sound he makes is low and broken, and then the kiss changes.
Not rough or frantic. But deeper, hungrier, full of everything we haven’t been able to touch for days.
His hand cups the back of my neck. Mine move over his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the shape of him again, like I could ever forget.
He pulls back first, breathing hard. “Bailey.”
“I want you.”
His eyes search mine. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want this to feel like we’re rushing past what we just said.”
“It doesn’t.” I touch his face, my thumb moving along his jaw. “It feels like I finally found you again.”
His eyes flare, and whatever careful thread he was holding onto snaps. He kisses me again, and this time, there is nothing hesitant about it.
His arms come around me, pulling me across his lap, and I go, knees bracketing his hips, my cardigan falling open between us. His mouth moves over mine with slow heat, his hands sliding up my back, under the soft fabric of my shirt, palms warm against bare skin.
I shiver.
He feels it.
“Cold?” he murmurs.
“No.”
His mouth curves against mine. “Okay.”
One word, soft and knowing, and somehow more intimate than any joke he could have made.
I kiss him harder, and he groans into my mouth, his fingers spreading over my ribs.
“I’ve missed touching you,” he says.
The words go straight through me.
“Then touch me.”
His breath catches.
For a second, he just looks at me, eyes dark and open and entirely on me. Then he pulls off my cardigan and reaches for the hem of my shirt, and lifts it over my head.
His gaze drops, and the hunger in his face makes my whole body go warm.
I reach behind me and unhook my bra. His eyes stay on mine as the straps slide down my arms. When I let it fall between us, he exhales like I’ve undone something vital in him.
His hands move slowly at first, over my waist, my ribs, then up to cup my breasts. His thumbs brush over my nipples, and my spine arches before I can stop it.
“Finn.”
“I’m here,” he says.
His mouth lowers to my breast, and the first warm pull of his tongue on my nipple sends a sharp pulse right through me. He doesn’t rush. He just licks and takes his time.
My hips rock against him, and he presses back like he’s as needy as I am.
“Bailey.”
The warning in his voice makes me ache, so I do it again.
He closes his eyes for half a second, jaw tense. “You’re going to make this difficult.”
“I thought you liked difficult.”
“I like you.”
I kiss him because I can’t answer without falling apart. Because I don’t want more words right now. I want his mouth, his hands, the solid heat of him against me. I want the rest of the night to be us, here together, where neither one of us can hide from what we just confessed.
We leave clothes behind in a slow trail from the couch to the bedroom.
His sweater on the living room floor. My leggings somewhere on the stairs.
His hand stays low on my back as we move, warm and steady, except we keep stopping because one kiss turns into another, and then another, until reaching the bedroom feels less like a destination and more like something we’re barely patient enough to manage.
By the time we reach my bedroom, my body is humming.
Finn stands at the edge of the bed and looks at me, both of us down to almost nothing, the air between us hot and quiet.
“I love you,” he says again.
My chest aches. “I love you too.”
This time, when he comes to me, there is no question left between us.
He lays me back on the bed and follows, bracing himself over me, his mouth finding mine as his hand slides down my body. Over my stomach, gentle for a second. Reverent enough to make my eyes sting. Then lower, over my hip, my thigh, until his fingers find me already wet for him.
I gasp into his mouth.
His forehead rests against mine. “Tell me what you want.”
“More.”
He gives it to me.
His fingers move slowly at first, then with more certainty as my body opens under his touch. He watches my face, not to manage me, not to perform, but to stay with me. Every breath. Every tremor. Every quiet sound I make when he finds the rhythm that makes my thighs tighten around his hand.
“That?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He keeps going, kissing me through it, his thumb circling my clit, his fingers sliding inside me so deep that it makes my hips lift from the mattress. Pleasure builds in layers, warm and heavy and impossible to hide from.
When I come, it breaks through me slowly at first, then all at once, my fingers digging into his shoulders, his name shaking out of me against his mouth.
He holds me through it.
When I finally open my eyes, his face is above mine, tense with restraint, so full of love and want that I almost can’t bear it.
I reach between us, finding his hard cock, hot in my hand.
His breath leaves him in a rough sound. “Bailey.”
“I want you inside me.”
His eyes close.
For one second, he doesn’t move.
Then he reaches toward the nightstand, hand shaking just slightly, and I realize what he’s looking for.
“Finn.”
He stills immediately. “What?”
I bite my lip, trying not to smile because the moment is tender and hot and absurd all at once. “I’m already pregnant.”
For one second, he just stares at me.
Then his eyes close, and a rough, breathless laugh leaves him. “Right.”
“Important medical update.”
His forehead drops to mine, his smile brushing my mouth. “In my defense, most of my blood has moved south and is no longer helping my brain.”
That pulls a laugh out of me, soft and shaky.
Then his expression gentles, the humor fading into something warmer. “Are you okay with that?”
“With you?” I slide my hand along his jaw. “Yes.”
His breath catches, and the last bit of distance between us disappears.
When he settles between my thighs, he doesn’t push in right away. He kisses me first. Slow. Deep. His hand slides into mine, fingers threading together beside my head as he slides his cock up and down, against my soaking wet pussy.
He pushes into me slowly, and the first deep stretch of him tears a sound out of me I couldn’t stop if I tried.
He goes slow, watching me, letting me feel every inch until he is fully inside me, and the world narrows to the weight of him, the heat, the way his forehead drops to mine like this is almost too much for him too.
“I love you,” he whispers.
I wrap my legs around his hips. “Show me.”
He does.
He moves like every stroke is a promise he is done making with words alone.
Slow at first, then deeper, his body covering mine, his hand locked with mine while the other grips my hip.
There is nothing casual about it. Nothing careless.
Every time he pushes into me, I feel how badly he wants to stay.
I meet him, lifting into each thrust, my free hand moving over his back, grabbing his ass, feeling the muscles shift beneath my palm.
His mouth finds my neck, my jaw, my lips again.
The room fills with our breathing, with the soft sounds I can’t hold back, with the low, wrecked noises he makes when I tighten around him.
“Bailey,” he groans.
“I’m here.”
His rhythm falters at the words.
Then he kisses me harder and drives into me deeper, and pleasure flashes hot through me.
There are no jokes left.
No masks.
No distance.
Just Finn, inside me and over me and with me, letting me see the need in him instead of hiding it behind anything easier.
My orgasm builds again, faster this time, pulled up from somewhere deep. I cling to him, my nails dragging down his back, my mouth open against his shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” he says, voice rough.
“I know.”
And I do.
The pleasure breaks hard, rolling through me until I cry out, my body clenching around him. Finn follows a few strokes later, his control finally shattering. He buries his face in my neck and comes with a broken sound, his body shaking above mine while I hold him as tightly as I can.
For a long time after, neither of us moves.
He keeps most of his weight off me, but not all of it. Enough that I can feel him there. Enough that the room no longer feels empty around the edges.
Eventually, he shifts, pulls me carefully against him, one hand settling low on my back, the other brushing hair from my face.
My cheek rests against his chest. His heart is still beating too fast.
“Phone’s really in the truck?” I ask.
His laugh is quiet, tired, and real. “Yeah.”
“Impressive.”
“I was scared I’d ruin a life-changing emotional moment by getting an ad for a bottle warmer.”
I smile against his skin. “That would have been unfortunate.”
“Deeply.”
The small bit of humor settles between us gently, familiar without becoming a hiding place.
His fingers move slowly along my spine.
“I’m going to keep messing up,” he says.
“Most likely.”
“I’ll try to come back faster.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I love you.”
The words still make everything in me go still for half a second.
Then warm.
“I love you too.”
Outside, rain taps softly against the window. Inside, Finn holds me like he is not trying to earn the right to stay anymore.
He is just staying.
And this time, I let myself believe we both know the difference.