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I chuckle, running my fingers through her hair.
“I’m really glad you did, too.”
Twenty-Six
Ellis
Aheavy weight hangs over my waist when my eyes crack open. The gray light streams in from the window as I feel Finn shift behind me.
He curled his body around mine, encasing me in heat and memories from the night before.
I can still feel his hand in my hair, the way his tongue felt on my lips–all of it.
When he shifts behind me, I turn toward him, taking a moment to drink in the dark purple hair, the soft stretch of his mouth, the way I don’t know how I ever thought this man could look mean. It makes me want to punch past Ellis in the face.
“Hey,” he whispers, his grip tightening around me and sending heat to my cheeks.
“Merry Christmas,” I say, and he chuckles, nuzzling into my hair.
“Right,” he says. “I’m due back to my parents’ around one."
I stroke my thumb over his hand before gently removing his arm. I desperately wish I didn’t need to. “Lennon will be here this morning,” I say, and his eyes finally open. “Don’t worry.” I glance at the clock on my nightstand. “We’ve got an hour and a half, but I need to get ready.”
“Okay.” Finn brushes a kiss across my cheek before rolling over onto his stomach.
When I get out of the bed, I allow myself to look back one more time, smiling before I enter the bathroom, peel my clothes off, and start the hot water.
The steam fills the room as I step in, but it only takes moments for the door to creek open. For the first time since living alone, I don’t think the random sound is a serial killer.
Finn’s never been a Ted Bundy kind of guy, anyway.
“Can I join you?” His deep voice sends goosebumps over my skin despite the temperature of the water.
I poke my head out from behind the curtain. “Depends,” I say. “How hot do you like your showers?”
When he smiles, my chest aches. “With you in them?” he begins. “Absolutely scorching.”
I smile back. “Perfect.”
Finn almost seems too big for my shower. His head stops just above the showerhead, so he has to duck under to get beneath the spray.
A strand of damp hair hangs in front of his forehead, dripping as he grins. “You need help?” he asks.
My heart stutters in my chest, my stomach suddenly tightening, and my body buzzing with the memory of his skin on mine. “With?”
Finn cocks a brow. “Soap.”
I fight the urge to look down and simply nod, turning away from him when he grabs the bottle from the ledge and gathers some in his hands.
He starts slowly, two fingers sliding up my spine, wet with the water droplets on our skin. When his lips meet my shoulder, I moan, tilting my head to the side and forgetting my own damn name.
“I haven’t even started,” he whispers as his hand wraps around my waist and lowers to my hip. His fingers tighten when he pulls me back to him, and I can feel how hard he is already. “Where should I begin, Ellie?”
Oh god.
I’m panting. My mind is dizzy with lust when I feel his hand brush soap over my ribcage. “Here?” he asks, before slowly dragging his palm lower.
The tension is winding tighter. I’m trying to keep myself upright. My knees weaken. When his fingers dip just above where I need him, he stops, starting the slow trek back up my body. It’s a heady kind of torture. His thumb flicks over my nipple, palm still dragging soap over my skin. I gasp. “Oh, fuck.”
