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She pushes him back toward the bed, helps him out of his jeans, then strips off her own. He’s already hard, and he shudders as she reaches there, palming him through his boxers. She starts to shove him down onto the bed, ready to straddle him, but he stops her, grabbing her hand and frowning.
“I just realized…” He grimaces. “I don’t have a condom.”
“I’m still on the pill.” She hesitates, her hands on his bare chest, and tilts her head up. “But are you…”
His hand sweeps down her cheek, into her hair. “There’s been no one else, Mel. No one else since you.”
A glorious shiver climbs her thighs, and a sense of relief spreads through her. Six months—and he’s not jumped into the arms of someone else, this man who would have no trouble to do so, if he chose. She reaches up, places a hand on his cheek. “Me neither.”
The green in his eyes sparks, and he runs his hands down her bare stomach, leaving pinpricks of warmth behind. He shifts, then nudges her onto the bed, knee between her thighs, and keeps moving his hand down, fingers dipping below her underwear, where she’s already wet. He hisses as he feels it, though he stays slow, his thumb lightly circling her clit. She reaches up to touch, to pull his boxers off, but he takes both of her hands in one of his, lightly clasping her wrists and holding them above her head.
He kisses his way up her stomach, fingers still there, thumb circling tighter and tighter. Her muscles clench as she whimpers, the pressure inside her building. She tries again to move, to touch, but he holds firm. “If I only get one night,” he whispers against her skin, “I want to take my time to enjoy it.”
Need coils at the promise in his voice, and she groans as he slips a finger inside her, moving against her. He kisses her neck, teeth scraping lightly over the top of her breast. It’s not enough. She arches against him, her breath a whimper in the back of her throat.
“Finn, I need—”
But, as his thumb presses down, she cries out, a wave of pleasure skittering down her spine, the first release tearing through her.
His smile is dark and hungry as he lets go of her wrists, his gaze inky black. And now he doesn’t stop her as she reaches down, both of them struggling to free themselves of what little clothing remains. He struggles with the clasp of her bra, swearing in a way that makes her laugh. She manages to get his boxers down.
She reaches between them, thrilling at the feel of him in her hand, and his head bows into her shoulder, his breath released on a hiss. He flips them, so she is on top of him, and she moves to straddle him, grabbing hold of him once more. She guides him inside her, just the tip, pausing, then taking him slowly deeper. She places her hands on his chest, and he grabs her hips. God, he feels so familiar, so right. Yet somehow it feels different, as if they haven’t done this a thousand times before.
The slowness doesn’t last long. They are both too frantic, too desperate, and Finn flips them again, sweat slicking over their skin as friction engulfs her body in heat. He pins her hands over her head and she bows up to meet him, and in that moment she feels powerful and wanted and right.
“Fuck, Mel,” he mutters, grinding into her, his fingers tightening. And he looks at her, then, just looks at her, as if he’s never seen her before, as if he can’t believe she’s there. And that look is enough to have sensation rushing to her core. Her muscles pulse, and she swears under her breath as her muscles lock tight, an orgasm rushing through her.
He covers her mouth with his as she starts to cry out with release, swallowing her groan. Then he shudders, pressing his forehead to hers, kissing her one last time. He looks at her for a long while after, like neither of them can bear to break away just yet.
When he does ease away, he pulls her tight to him, stroking a hand down her stomach and resting it there. He kisses her shoulder. “You have no idea how much I missed you, Mel.”
And into the dark, with his arms around her, she whispers, “I’ve missed you too.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Christmas Day
Mel wakes curled against Finn’s front, both of them still naked, skin against skin. She knows it must be early. It’s pitch-black outside and although that isn’t telling this time of year, there is no sound within the house, no light coming from under the bedroom door. She can feel the rhythm of Finn’s deep breathing behind her, and smiles. She is happy, she realizes. Happy to be here, with Finn, on Christmas Day. She wants to stay next to him, maybe try to wake him up, slowly, for a repeat of last night. But she is also dying of thirst—and there is no water anywhere in sight.
She moves out from under Finn’s arm, careful not to wake him as she hunts for her pajamas, then slips on a dressing gown. She leaves Finn sleeping, tiptoeing downstairs. It’s chilly, the fire from last night burned out, but she feels an echo of childhood excitement. It’s Christmas Day morning, she’s here with some of the people she loves most in the world—and for today, at least, she has Finn.
She heads down the corridor to the kitchen, pauses just outside when she sees the light is already on. There are voices, she realizes, and she bites her lip—what if it’s Hattie and Dylan, in the middle of a conversation that she shouldn’t interrupt?
“I’m fine, Kristen. I just couldn’t sleep—that’s all.” It’s Susan’s voice.
“I still say we should have taken you to the hospital.” Kristen. What’s she doing up and over in this house so early?
A long sigh from Susan. “They’re not going to tell me anything I don’t know. And I fell over because I’m a bad ice-skater—not because I have cancer.”
Mel’s whole body goes cold. No. She mustn’t have heard right. There is a ringing in her ears as she hears Susan’s words again in her mind.
Not because I have cancer.
It can’t be true. Susan can’t have cancer—they’d know, wouldn’t they? Finn would know. He’d have told her.
She doesn’t know what to do. She can’t go in, not when they are having a private conversation. But she can’t just go back upstairs, pretend she hasn’t heard. And she wants to know if it’s true, if she’s really heard this right.
She doesn’t know what to do, feels panic clogging her throat. Then she sees Kristen heading into the kitchen area, switching the kettle on to boil. She must make some kind of noise, because Kristen turns—and sees Mel.
