"We can watch whatever you want."
I shrug. "I don't watch much TV. I'm never home when most shows are on anyway."
He tunes it to one of the morning shows. The anchors are talking about the latest bestselling book, something racy with a cover that makes me blush just to look at it.
Finn points at the TV. “Emma has that book. Tank teased her about it until she finally told him that reading hot books is to his benefit. That shut him up pretty quickly."
"I don't get why people think they have the right to shame women for their entertainment choices. And nobody asks men to defend why they're watching the last Mission Impossible or Jason Bourne flick. No one says they must be boring or unfulfilled in their real lives because they like those shows."
"Who says that?"
"Usually jerks on TV. Anyway, all those action movies are way more unrealistic in my opinion and they glorify violence. If you have to portray something unrealistic, I don't see how showing people falling in love is hurting anything."
He glances over at me. "Falling in love is unrealistic?"
The soft tone of his voice lulls me. I know what he's thinking. How can it be unrealistic when we had that? We had in reality what most people only experience in the pages of a book or through soft focus scenes in a movie. But I can't think about that right now so I take the coward's way out and make a joke of it.
"Isn't it? I'm glad it works out for some people but I think for most of us, it's still nothing but a fantasy."
"I hear billionaires in those love books are all the rage. According to Emma's ereader anyway."
I look over at him in shock. "You were snooping?"
He has the decency to at least look embarrassed. "It was right next to me on the table! I don't have one so I just wanted to see how they work. Anyway, I thought it was funny especially since most billionaires are my father's age."
"Well, I think most women who have that particular fantasy are imagining someone more like you." I don't tell him that I know that from experience, since he's been my favorite late night fantasy for years.
"Except like most wealthy men in my age group, I'm not a billionaire. More like a billionaire-in-waiting. I'm set to inherit billions and so are my brothers. There are very few young men who are independently wealthy. Most inherit it."
"That's not nearly as sexy. Let us keep our fantasies, please."
His lashes lower and his gaze turns heated. "Is that what you fantasize about, Ris?"
Suddenly I can barely breathe. How am I supposed to talk about fantasies with Finn sitting next to me looking like a wet dream? I close my eyes but that just makes it worse. I can hear every sound when he moves closer, the soft shuffling when he stands, the whisper of his jeans against the fabric of the couch as he sits down again. When I open my eyes, he's right next to me.
"Finn?" I don't mean it to but it comes out as a question. A plea. This is when I'm supposed to be strong and push him away. He's already admitted that he just wants to get me out of his system. I shouldn't want him at all when I know his ultimate end goal is to use me and then forget about me.
But then his hand slides under my neck and his mouth is on mine. I'm glad he didn't take it slow and get my permission because I don't want to think right now. I just want to feel and to remember. And kissing him is just like I remember.
A whimper escapes before I can stop it as his lips travel back and forth over mine. Just soft brushes that awaken every nerve ending. Kissing him was always like this, a sensual experience that made me feel like every inch of my skin was alive. I arch up to him, reaching, trying to get him to deepen the kiss but as always he's in firm control. Then he tugs me closer and tilts his head. The angle changes everything.
My lips part willingly under his and his tongue invades my mouth. His taste, god his taste, is perfect. My fingers clench against his chest as I resist the urge to grab him and start exploring. Being with him so young had some advantages. I'd had inhibitions but with Finn, I'd never felt insecure. I hadn't worried about whether my ass was too big or if my thighs didn't touch. With the kind of adulation that only a teenage boy can have for a naked woman, he'd made me feel like a goddess. I can remember hours of touching, kissing and cuddling where we'd done nothing but bring each other pleasure.
But we'd been different people then. We were in love. Making love with Finn had always been about showing each other how we felt. This kiss is a tangled web of lust, deceit and anger.
Because Finn doesn't love me anymore.
"Finn, wait. We can't." I push back slightly but can't seem to stop my hands from roaming all over his chest.
He steals one last kiss, his hands tightening slightly on the back of my neck. It doesn't make me feel threatened at all, rather I get a visceral sense of just how much he wants me. He has unresolved feelings of anger toward me for what I did but he wants me still.
"I'm sorry. That really wasn't why I asked you to stay." He moves back slightly. His lips are swollen and I like seeing the evidence of what we just did. I lick my own lips instinctively, getting one last taste of him.
He growls and then whips around to face the TV. It takes a few minutes but eventually my own breathing settles back to normal and we watch the rest of the morning talk show in silence. After it's over, Finn stands.
"I'm going to take a shower. A cold one."
I shrug. "I don't watch much TV. I'm never home when most shows are on anyway."
He tunes it to one of the morning shows. The anchors are talking about the latest bestselling book, something racy with a cover that makes me blush just to look at it.
Finn points at the TV. “Emma has that book. Tank teased her about it until she finally told him that reading hot books is to his benefit. That shut him up pretty quickly."
"I don't get why people think they have the right to shame women for their entertainment choices. And nobody asks men to defend why they're watching the last Mission Impossible or Jason Bourne flick. No one says they must be boring or unfulfilled in their real lives because they like those shows."
"Who says that?"
"Usually jerks on TV. Anyway, all those action movies are way more unrealistic in my opinion and they glorify violence. If you have to portray something unrealistic, I don't see how showing people falling in love is hurting anything."
He glances over at me. "Falling in love is unrealistic?"
The soft tone of his voice lulls me. I know what he's thinking. How can it be unrealistic when we had that? We had in reality what most people only experience in the pages of a book or through soft focus scenes in a movie. But I can't think about that right now so I take the coward's way out and make a joke of it.
"Isn't it? I'm glad it works out for some people but I think for most of us, it's still nothing but a fantasy."
"I hear billionaires in those love books are all the rage. According to Emma's ereader anyway."
I look over at him in shock. "You were snooping?"
He has the decency to at least look embarrassed. "It was right next to me on the table! I don't have one so I just wanted to see how they work. Anyway, I thought it was funny especially since most billionaires are my father's age."
"Well, I think most women who have that particular fantasy are imagining someone more like you." I don't tell him that I know that from experience, since he's been my favorite late night fantasy for years.
"Except like most wealthy men in my age group, I'm not a billionaire. More like a billionaire-in-waiting. I'm set to inherit billions and so are my brothers. There are very few young men who are independently wealthy. Most inherit it."
"That's not nearly as sexy. Let us keep our fantasies, please."
His lashes lower and his gaze turns heated. "Is that what you fantasize about, Ris?"
Suddenly I can barely breathe. How am I supposed to talk about fantasies with Finn sitting next to me looking like a wet dream? I close my eyes but that just makes it worse. I can hear every sound when he moves closer, the soft shuffling when he stands, the whisper of his jeans against the fabric of the couch as he sits down again. When I open my eyes, he's right next to me.
"Finn?" I don't mean it to but it comes out as a question. A plea. This is when I'm supposed to be strong and push him away. He's already admitted that he just wants to get me out of his system. I shouldn't want him at all when I know his ultimate end goal is to use me and then forget about me.
But then his hand slides under my neck and his mouth is on mine. I'm glad he didn't take it slow and get my permission because I don't want to think right now. I just want to feel and to remember. And kissing him is just like I remember.
A whimper escapes before I can stop it as his lips travel back and forth over mine. Just soft brushes that awaken every nerve ending. Kissing him was always like this, a sensual experience that made me feel like every inch of my skin was alive. I arch up to him, reaching, trying to get him to deepen the kiss but as always he's in firm control. Then he tugs me closer and tilts his head. The angle changes everything.
My lips part willingly under his and his tongue invades my mouth. His taste, god his taste, is perfect. My fingers clench against his chest as I resist the urge to grab him and start exploring. Being with him so young had some advantages. I'd had inhibitions but with Finn, I'd never felt insecure. I hadn't worried about whether my ass was too big or if my thighs didn't touch. With the kind of adulation that only a teenage boy can have for a naked woman, he'd made me feel like a goddess. I can remember hours of touching, kissing and cuddling where we'd done nothing but bring each other pleasure.
But we'd been different people then. We were in love. Making love with Finn had always been about showing each other how we felt. This kiss is a tangled web of lust, deceit and anger.
Because Finn doesn't love me anymore.
"Finn, wait. We can't." I push back slightly but can't seem to stop my hands from roaming all over his chest.
He steals one last kiss, his hands tightening slightly on the back of my neck. It doesn't make me feel threatened at all, rather I get a visceral sense of just how much he wants me. He has unresolved feelings of anger toward me for what I did but he wants me still.
"I'm sorry. That really wasn't why I asked you to stay." He moves back slightly. His lips are swollen and I like seeing the evidence of what we just did. I lick my own lips instinctively, getting one last taste of him.
He growls and then whips around to face the TV. It takes a few minutes but eventually my own breathing settles back to normal and we watch the rest of the morning talk show in silence. After it's over, Finn stands.
"I'm going to take a shower. A cold one."
