22. Finn
Chapter 22
Finn
I awake to the warmth of Rune's body, still cocooned in my arms. The soft gray light of the sky tells me that it's early morning. I don't want to get out of bed. Her hair cascades around us like spun silk. I can't help but run my fingers through the ends of it. She rolls over, blinking at me through sleep heavy eyes. One hand reaches for me and I let her draw me in for a kiss.
“Good morning,” I murmur.
“Hi,” she replies. Her smile is a little shy. “Thanks for last night.”
I'm over-aware of the fact that she's lying naked in my bed. I close my eyes and breathe her in—the scent of her body, her hair. I could wake up to this every day. “For the record, that wasn’t at all how I pictured last night going.”
“No?” She props herself up on an elbow. “How did you picture it? Did you imagine that I would have bigger boobs?”
“What the fuck, Rune.” I caress her breast, palming it gently. It's so soft, so mesmerizing. “They're perfect. No, I meant…I had every intention of seducing you with some measure of romance. A nice dinner, some fancy wine. But when you took off your swimsuit, I sort of…forgot.” I'm an idiot. She might as well know it.
“I’m sorry I ruined your plan.” She doesn't seem sorry. If anything, Rune looks pleased with herself.
“You didn't. My plan ended up with us getting naked, too.” I pull back the blanket, an appreciative sound humming low in my throat as I run my hand down her side. Her skin is incredibly smooth. It’s pure instinct to press my cock against her. She pushes back, well aware of what she’s doing to me. I force myself to add, “Can I make it up to you? I’ll cook breakfast.”
“Breakfast is good,” she replies. I mentally prepare to drag myself away when she tugs at my arm, letting her knees fall open. A request. Breakfast is momentarily put on hold as we continue where we left off last night. I pride myself on being both perceptive and imaginative as a lover, but I feel like a starved man who's presented with real food for the first time.
This bed is perfect for sleeping in. It's even more perfect, I realize, for discovering the best way to draw those small gasps of pleasure from Rune. She's on her knees, face cradled in her arms on a pillow, and we're both so obviously close that I'm tempted to finish us quickly, but in the end…I flip us to indulge in the sight of Rune riding me, driving us both to a gasping, sweaty completion.
We stay that way for a while, her straddling me, tracing the contours of my chest, my abs, the muscled curve of my thighs. I keep my hands patiently on her hips, letting her explore. Her eyes are on me the whole time. Because I'm watching her, too, I see the moment her mind starts to wander. The wrinkle of her nose, like she's just been told a particularly bad joke.
“What's that look for?” I smile, reaching up to cradle the side of her face with my hand.
“You're like an aromatic god and I am in desperate need of a shower.”
My laughter doubles as she rolls off me. “You smell like sex and me. Please don't wash it off. Ever.”
“Gross.” Her nose wrinkles even more. She runs a finger across my cheekbones, my nose. I close my eyes and revel in the soft, tentative touch. “You wouldn't mind me sketching you, would you?” she asks suddenly. “Specifically, your nose. For my illustrations.”
“Only if I can see them,” I bargain. I've been wanting to see her portrayals of the Crimson and Roses series since she mentioned it at my parents' party.
“You can, but they’re not finished yet.”
“Show me,” I plead. She looks at me, wavering in her decision. I put on my most innocent face. “I just want a peek.”
“Fine. Here.” She swipes a few times then hands her phone to me.
I’m floored. The illustrations are good. Really good. The colors, the shading, the expressions—all far beyond what my most vibrant imagination could ever conjure. I zoom in to catch the details. “Rune, these are incredible.”
She ducks her head, embarrassed but pleased. “There’s a lot of things to fix before I would consider them done. Before I would ever let the author see.”
I freeze as a wave of guilt washes over me. I’ve tricked her and I didn’t mean to. But maybe—a sudden, wild idea starts to form. It may be possible to fix this—all of it.
“Were you serious when you said you wanted to be an illustrator?” I ask.
“I guess I don’t really know since I’ve never tried. But I think so. I thought maybe I could try to sell some prints in an online shop or something and then just see where it goes.”
“You could.” It's a sensible starting point. A safe one. Too safe, considering how skilled she is. “I might have a contact who would like to see these. Someone who works in the publishing industry,” I hedge, not wanting to promise anything until I have a chance to talk to Amber and flesh out this budding plan a little more.
Although Rune's eyes light up, she worries at her lip. “I don't know if I'm good enough for that kind of project yet.”
I swipe back through the photos, landing on one illustration in particular. The two main characters from Crimson and Roses are at odds—a classic enemies to lovers story—and the male is held at knifepoint by his love interest. I turn the phone back to face her. “Rune, this is more than good enough. This is the kind of thing authors dream of for their books.”
“If you think so.” She sounds doubtful.
“I'll reach out to them, and will let you know what they say.” I return Rune's phone, another idea in my mind. “In the meantime…the shower is probably large enough for two people.”
“Probably?” She laughs at the word choice.
“I've never tried before,” I admit. I don't typically invite women to my house and certainly don't invite them to shower with me in my private bathroom.
“Well then, we'd better test it out.” She flutters her lashes.
It turns into more of a striptease and I honestly have no idea what's gotten into me. I can't get enough of her splayed out naked in front of me. It goes far beyond simple lust. I want her here in my house, touching my things, leaving her clothes strewn around to disrupt the sterile, pristine life that I've built for myself. She might be leaving tomorrow, but I have no intention of letting what we have end. And if my idea comes to fruition…well, I'll just keep my fingers crossed.
“Coffee? Breakfast?” I prompt, pulling on a pair of black gym shorts. I'm not sure where her clothes are—downstairs, somewhere—but I hand her one of my shirts so she doesn't have to walk around naked. Not that I would mind if she did.
“Yes and yes.” She accepts the t-shirt, pulling it straight on, completely nude underneath. I swallow. She notices my stare and gives a pointed look at my bare chest.
“You could put a shirt on. I’m not sure I can think straight if you're walking around like that.”
I toss her a wink. “That's the plan.”
She rolls her eyes, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
As we walk into the hall, Rune's gaze catches on the open door to my office. It's the kind of room that would probably be a haven for her, too: floor to ceiling bookshelves lining two walls, with a large desk set into a corner and an armchair with a matching ottoman up against a window. But I don't want her in there. Not yet.
“My office,” I tell her, breathing a sigh of relief when she moves past it without another word.
Downstairs is a veritable mess compared with my usual orderly cleanliness. There are empty mugs and beer bottles on the table, along with boxes full of crumbs from our afternoon snack. Pillows are strewn about in the living room. My swimming trunks are probably still on the floor where I left them. An absolute disaster. And one that makes me smile when I think about it. I set about cleaning things up while the coffee brews, putting the boxes in the garbage and rinsing out the beer bottles before tossing them into the recycle bin. Wordlessly, Rune comes over to help, washing the mugs by hand.
When the counters are clean, I pour fresh brewed coffee into two mugs.
“For a successful sleepover,” I say, clinking our cups together.
“Best I've ever had,” she replies.
“Fuck yes.” We smile at each other and I'm about to suggest we snuggle on the couch while drinking our coffee when I hear a car pull up in the driveway. Rune and I share a look. It's only nine in the morning. Too early for unannounced visitors, unless Ella and Sam have decided to show up to gloat. When I look out the kitchen window, my heart drops.
“Who is it?” Rune asks warily, noticing my reaction.
I swallow, my throat suddenly very dry. “My parents.”
“You're joking.”
“I fucking wish.”
She looks around, panicked. “Should I hide? I could go upstairs until they leave.”
That startles a laugh out of me. “Absolutely not.” We’re both consenting adults. She’s not a medieval mistress that needs to remain a secret.
“I need to put my bra on. I don't know where it is.” She claps her hands over her chest, a growing look of horror. “Finn, I'm not even wearing pants .”
I allow myself one long look of appreciation at her bare legs before striding into the bathroom, where I fish out a clean sweatshirt and shorts from the dryer. They're mine and at least two sizes too big for her, but they're better than nothing. I wait while she pulls them on. Only then do I answer the knock at my door, pulling it open to reveal my parents. They’re standing on the porch, smiling like this is the best thing in the world.
“Surprise!” Mom's arms are full of shopping bags and boxes. “We brought breakfast.”
Behind her, Dad just grins, clearly thrilled at the fact that they pulled one over on me. “Just getting up, huh Finn?”
“Mom, Dad, this is…a surprise. Come on in.”
“We both texted and I called twice this morning,” Mom scolds, kicking her shoes haphazardly against the wall, like a child. “I figured you were busy working or maybe lost your phone, so I thought: why not swing by and bring you something to eat.”
“How much do you think I eat?” Judging by the number of bags, she's brought enough food for a month.
“Oh, you know, I thought I'd bring a little extra. Some of these are your Christmas presents and—oh!” Mom’s chatter falls silent when she realizes that I’m not the only one in the house. Poor Rune is standing uncertainly in the kitchen, her face noticeably paler than it was a minute ago. She looks terrified. I don't blame her. I'm a little nervous myself.
“Mom, you remember Rune,” I say.
“It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Sigurdson.” Rune offers a tentative smile.
Mom's look tells me that she absolutely does not remember her.
“You met her at the party,” I remind them. “Mairi's niece.”
“Oh. Oh .” I don't like that look on Mom's face. The one that reads far too much into a situation. She's going to scare the girl off before I can convince Rune to stay in the first place. “Of course.”
“You want coffee, Mom? Dad?”
“Of course, sprinkle a little cinnamon in mine, would you, honey?” My heartbeat kicks up a few notches as Mom takes her coffee over to the table. “So, Rune, I'm afraid we didn't get much of a chance to chat at the party. You're on vacation from Chicago, if I recall?”
“Yes, that's right,” Rune says. I send her mental well-wishes.
And what are you doing in my son's house? Mom doesn't voice the question, but it's written all over her face as she turns from Rune to me, waiting expectantly for an explanation.
Too bad I have no intention of giving her one.
“So what are you two doing out and about so early?” I ask instead. “Isn't it like six in Arizona time?”
“It's past eight there, Finn, and we are on vacation. Late to bed, early to rise.” Dad gives me a sage nod, as if imparting some wisdom.
Mom only rolls her eyes. “Your father doesn't understand what a vacation is. We're having brunch with Mr. and Mrs. Lakso—you remember them, Finn? Mrs. Lakso was your eighth grade English teacher. We thought we'd drop off some food for you on the way. Rune, we brought French toast and bacon. Is that something you like?”
“Yes, it's one of my favorites.”
I relax a little. I can tell from Mom's shift in demeanor that she's noticed Rune's discomfort and has decided to put her at ease. For now.
“Now you'll have to remind me. What is it that you do?” Mom asks, believing this is safe ground. I close my eyes.
“I've worked in marketing for the last couple years,” Rune replies quickly.
“How interesting. Marketers are so valuable.” Mom takes a polite sip of her coffee. She has a personal bias against marketing, for whatever reason. She's told me more than once that all marketers are scammers at heart. “Have you enjoyed your vacation?”
Rune nods. “The cold takes some getting used to, but we’ve been out skiing a lot.”
“It's always cold here. I was so glad when Finn decided to install that hot tub. It's so nice when it's—when it’s—well, anyway, the cold is a pleasant break from Arizona’s heat.”
Confused by the abrupt change of direction, I follow Mom's gaze out the window and wince. Rune's pink bikini top is dangling over the edge of the hot tub in plain sight. Right next to her half-finished beer. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what all went on. Rune's painfully traumatized gaze meets mine, pleading for help. I should have let her escape when she had the chance. My mistake.
Mom darts a very obvious what the fuck look at me, as if it's my fault that she and Dad showed up before I had a chance to put the place in order again. To hide the obvious signs of last night's sequence of events.
Fully oblivious to the underlying tension between Mom, Rune, and I at the table, Dad wanders into the living room.
“Didn't like the pillows on the couch, eh Finn?” I close my eyes, begging for strength at his dry humor. I was born tidy, or so my mother likes to say. The sight of my couch pillows in disarray is probably as jarring for my parents as it is for me.
“Feel free to put them back in order, if you want.” I don't dare look at Rune. I know for a fact that those pillows fell off when I had her naked on the couch. Right after she took off her—oh shit. Rune's thinking the same thing, sending me a panicked look that has me scrambling to my feet. I have to distract Dad before he can find the matching bottoms to the hot pink bikini top that's dangling over the edge of the hot tub.
I’m about three seconds too slow. I see the moment he spots them, his brows furrowed as he tries to make sense of what he's holding. Slowly he looks from the bottoms to the swim trunks that are also lying in the middle of the floor. He clears his throat awkwardly before putting them back down, this time on the edge of the hearth.
“You know, you have to hang up your wet clothes if you want the fire to dry them, Finn,” he says offhandedly. “I thought we raised you better.”
For once, Mom is completely without words. She makes an attempt at finishing her coffee as if nothing has happened, even making some small talk with Rune about how she heard there was a new exhibit at the art museum in Chicago that might be worth checking out. After a few minutes, even that proves to be too much.
“Well, Pat, we'd better be off or we’ll be late for brunch. Come along, we'll leave these two to their, er, visit.” Mom casts one of her social queen smiles at all of us. The one she uses when she's stuck in a social situation and wants to escape to get shit-faced drunk.
Dad follows meekly, unable to look any of us in the eye. He mumbles a subdued, “See you, bud,” before shutting the door behind him. Leaving Rune and I alone once more.
“So that was—” Rune starts, her face flaming.
“Fucking awkward,” I say wearily, dropping back into my chair.
She opens her mouth as if to disagree, but then deflates. “Yeah,” she agrees. “It really was.”