by Callie Rose
Just me.
Only me.
He watched me carefully as he continued forward, slipping into the space between my parted legs when he reached me and splaying his hands over my lower back.
“That room is ours in a lot of ways, Legs. But I don’t want anything to taint this. I don’t want you to imagine even for a second that I’m thinking of anyone but you.”
As he spoke, he dipped his head, brushing his lips over my shoulders. He kissed my unbroken skin and my damaged skin with the same sweet hunger, and I found my body arching into his touch, offering him more.
But he pulled away again, sliding his hands down to my thighs as he looked at me seriously, biting his lip.
“I stopped doing that not long after that day—bringing girls anywhere, I mean, not just the dance studio.” He shook his head, his gaze going unfocused as if he were looking inside himself. “I didn’t even know why. Or at least, I wouldn’t admit it for a long time. I just… didn’t want to. I didn’t want anyone else.”
I dragged in a breath, my heart beating hard and fast as my body buzzed with a sudden surge of euphoria and nerves.
My hands found their way to his chest, fingertips running over the smooth, soft fabric of his shirt, mapping the contours below. Our bodies moved closer together as if they couldn’t stand to be apart, and his lips were only a few inches from mine.
All I wanted was to fall into his kiss, to drown in it. To let it sweep me away.
But instead, before our mouths could meet, I opened mine and blurted the most mood-killing thing imaginable.
“I had sex with Elijah!”
Yup. That stopped him.
He froze for a second right where he was, and then he drew back, blinking down at me with his brows knitted together. But the things I’d expected to see on his face—anger, maybe, or disgust—weren’t there.
“Yeah. I know.”
Now it was my turn to blink at him stupidly. “You—you do?”
“Sure.” He chuckled. “There’s not much about any of those fuckers I don’t know.” His blue eyes sparked with something I couldn’t quite name as he ran his hands over the bare skin of my legs, his touch like a match to dry tinder. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care if you slept with him, or if you do it again. Doesn’t change how I feel about you. Doesn’t make me not want you.”
My hands on his chest grew still.
“Why?” I swallowed, both loving and hating the words I was about to say—and the fact that they were beginning to feel entirely true. “Because… I belong to all of you?”
“Nah, Legs.” He shook his head, his grin beaming like pure sunshine. “Because we all belong to you. If you want us, anyway.”
His words, and the look in his eyes as he said them, cracked my heart open.
Ever since that day in the studio when Finn had handed me his phone, which had held the last bit of video footage the Princes had captured of me, he had gone out of his way to give me back my power. He had let me dictate the terms of our relationship, had let me decide how far back into my life to allow him. He had asked instead of demanded, offered instead of taken.
And he was mine if I wanted him.
My hands resting on his chest grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him toward me until our lips connected again in a kiss that was hot and consuming, tinged with desperation and relief.
This time, we didn’t stop. He didn’t pull away again, and I didn’t blurt out any more mood-destroying admissions. He tugged me closer to the edge of the wooden surface I sat on, bringing our bodies flush together. The height of the chest of drawers was perfect to allow the hardening bulge in his pants to press against the sweet spot at the apex of my thighs, and he rocked into me as he deepened the kiss, sliding his hands under the straps of my leotard.
When he pulled them down, slipping my arms free and letting the stretchy fabric pool at my waist, my nipples peaked at the sudden exposure to the air. I slid my hands under his shirt, running them over his skin. He was always so warm, as if there truly was sunshine inside him, radiating out with a soft glow.
He wrapped his arms around me, leaning forward to lay my upper body back until I reclined on my elbows. Then he worked his way over my newly exposed skin with his lips, making me squirm with pleasure and impatience.
“God, Finn!”
I bit my lower lip hard as he trailed his tongue down the side of my breast, and when he dragged my nipple into his mouth, repeating the action he’d done to my earlobe earlier, I writhed beneath him, not sure if I was going to survive the intensity of the feelings ricocheting through me.
He moved to my other breast, and I let out a plaintive cry, the noise shockingly loud in the small space.
His large hands moved over my waist and ribs, skimming gently over the scars on the left side of my body as his mouth continued to torture me. When I let out another noise, arching into his touch to demand more, he glanced up at me, his blue eyes heated and dark.
“Fuck, I like you when you’re wild, Legs.”
If I’d been able to form a coherent sentence, a coherent thought, I would’ve told him that he made me wild, that he and the other Princes had shown me this side of myself—the side who took what she wanted, who owned her pleasure and wasn’t afraid of bucking convention. Who didn’t care what anyone else thought.
But I was beyond words by now, so lost in the sensations Finn was bringing out in my body that I couldn’t think of anything else but him.
I sank all the way back onto the large bureau, angling my body a little so I didn’t hit my head against the wall, and reached down to tug at the hem of Finn’s t-shirt. He let me pull it off him, baring his broad, tanned chest. I’d seen him shirtless dozens of times, but I’d never been able to drink in the sight quite like this before. Not when I could touch as well as look.
And I did touch, running my fingers over the planes of his pecs, brushing over his nipples, exploring the contours of his cut abs. I could see why he never really felt the need to put much effort in during gym class. Football practice and whatever workouts he did beyond that had turned him into over six feet of pure muscle, powerful and cut.
He braced himself over me as I explored his body with my hands, letting me get my fill as he gazed down at me, an almost disbelieving expression on his face.
“Jesus, Tal. The way you fucking look at me…”
Finn didn’t finish that sentence. Instead, he dipped his head again, kissing me hard before moving down my body, trailing a path over my chest, between my breasts, and down my stomach. My abs clenched and released as he flicked his tongue into my belly button, a sound that was half-giggle and half-moan bursting from my lips as the pleasurable tickle sent sparks dancing through my body.
He kissed the skin of my stomach as his hands moved to my leotard again, pulling the stretchy fabric down to reveal more and more of me. When he reached the mound of my pelvis, I braced my good leg against the drawers and lifted my hips, giving him the freedom to pull the small garment all the way off.
As soon as he slid it down my legs and away, he paused, his chest rising hard and fast with his breaths. I felt the same shock to the bare skin of my lower half as I had when he’d pulled the leotard down past my breasts—a sudden consciousness of the cool air hitting places it hadn’t before, a deep awareness of the fact that no part of me was hidden anymore.
I was unwrapped, undressed, laid bare before Finn.
What I’d told him earlier hadn’t been a lie. I had never thought of myself as the most beautiful girl in the world, but I had liked the way I looked, taken pride in what my body could do, and enjoyed the little things that made it mine and no one else’s. Since the accident, I’d had a harder time finding that same sense of confidence, the same feeling of pride and contentment with my appearance.
But the way Finn was looking at me now made me feel beyond beautiful.
It made me feel wanted.
Desired.
Perfect.
As if he sa
w all of me, scars and flaws included, and still found the entirety of the picture to be the most stunning thing he’d ever seen.
“Fuck. You’re—” He swallowed, biting his bottom lip as heat flared in his eyes. His gaze kept moving over me as his hands roamed my body, gliding over every inch of skin they could reach.
I knew he had just let me do the same to him, and I tried to be patient as he took his fill. But every second that he touched me, an aching need built higher and higher inside my body, until I couldn’t just lay still under his ministrations anymore. I hooked my good leg around him, pressing against his ass to bring him closer as my hands reached desperately for the waistband of his pants.
They brushed against the straining outline of his cock as I tried to undo his button, and his pelvis jerked as he let out a low grunt. He finally interrupted his exploration of my body to grab my hands in his, stopping my movement.
“Are you sure about this, Legs? We don’t have to take it that far.”
Offering, not taking.
Asking, not demanding.
He was giving me my power back, like he had in so many small ways over the past weeks.
I paused—one leg still hooked around his waist, my entire body bare and flushed, my clit throbbing with a nameless need—and gazed up at him. It was my choice, to take this further or to stop here. I held that power in my chest for a few heartbeats, letting it expand to fill the entire cavity.
Then I smiled at him and, with deliberate movements, tugged open the button on his pants and pulled down his zipper.
If I could have anything in the entire world right now, I’d choose this.
“Oh, thank fucking fuck.”
Finn’s nonsensical, relieved sounding curse only made me smile wider, and then he was draping his body back over mine, kissing the life out of me as one of his hands joined mine in pushing his pants and boxer briefs down.
I felt him grab his wallet before his pants slid down beyond my reach. I assumed he kicked them off, but I didn’t know and honestly didn’t even care. They weren’t in our way anymore, and that was all that mattered.
His lips met mine again, even as I felt him fumbling in his wallet and heard the sound of plastic tearing. His hands moved between us to roll the condom on, and then one stayed between us, fingers finding my clit and massaging it with firm strokes.
My back arched, and Finn hauled me up to sit again, pulling me toward him until just the very edge of my ass was perched on the bureau. My legs were doing almost no work, but the muscles of my right one still burned slightly, worn out from being asked to do anything at all. I ignored the weakness though, focusing only on the good feelings cascading through my body as Finn teased me, sliding just a little way in and out before stopping.
“Finn. Please. Do it!”
My words were punctuated by sharp breaths, and I tried to pull him closer, tried to force him deeper inside. I’d only done this once before, but my body knew what it wanted, knew the pleasure that could come from being filled like that, made whole like that.
“Talia, I—” Finn’s voice broke off, and for a moment I tensed, afraid he was about to say something I wasn’t ready to hear. Something I couldn’t believe yet, even if it were true. He licked his lips, holding himself frozen just inside me. “I care about you so fucking much, Tal.”
Then he pitched his hips forward and gave me what I needed.
Our hips pressed together as he filled me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding on as he withdrew and did it again.
It was like being on an open sea during a storm, riding the rhythmic waves and hoping not to drown. Our lips met again, but each thrust of his hips tore them apart. We kept trying to kiss even as he moved harder and faster, and I lost track of trying to keep my noises quiet and contained.
Soft whimpers and breathless moans fell from my lips as I begged him inarticulately to keep going, to never stop.
When he finally did stop, his whole body shuddered, and his pelvis jerked against mine, grinding into me. I was close, so close, clinging to his shoulders and rolling my hips, chasing the feeling.
“I got you, Legs. I got you.”
Keeping one arm wrapped around my back, he slid his other hand between us, finding my clit again and working tight circles around it. My legs locked up, and I clenched around him as I came, squeezing the hardness that was still buried inside me. The orgasm rolled over me in waves, and when the pleasure finally receded, all my muscles seemed to relax at once.
I blinked up at Finn, taking in his flushed face, mussed blond hair, and slightly dazed grin, and felt an answering smile bloom across my face.
“So,” I breathed, brushing my fingers over the skin of his shoulders just because I could. Because he was mine. “You still want to study later?”
His dimples popped as his grin widened.
“If that’s what you want to call it, then fuck yes.”
Chapter 12
After Finn helped me get dressed and retrieved his own discarded clothes from the floor, we went back to the dance studio to get my stuff before heading across campus toward the Wastelands.
We truly did try to study.
Some of the tips and tricks I’d found online for how to function with dyslexia were really helping Finn, and we spent about an hour going over a section of our American Literature textbook.
But I couldn’t drag my focus away from how close to me Finn was sitting, couldn’t stop sucking in breaths of his clean citrus scent. I knew his body in a way I hadn’t before, and that knowledge made it extremely hard to concentrate.
When we both reached to turn a page at the same time, our fingers tangled together, and twenty seconds after that, the textbook fell to the floor with a thud as our lips found each other again. Finn carried me to the bedroom, and our second time was slow and languid, unhurried and deep. I was a little bit sore, but not enough to stop pure pleasure from radiating through me when Finn pressed inside me again.
Afterward, we fell asleep with our naked bodies pressed together, and it was the best sleep I’d had in weeks.
I hadn’t planned on any of that when I’d snuck into the studio. I’d only gone to look at myself, to try to reconcile the person I’d been with the person I was now. But as it turned out, Finn finding me was the best thing that could’ve happened—it was exactly what I’d needed in that moment.
A reminder that my body might be damaged, but it was not useless.
Philip called on Monday morning to let me know that he’d set everything up with the physical therapist and to give me the address where I was supposed to meet the trainer. We’d be using a rehab facility in Roseland so we could utilize their equipment.
My grandpa had called or texted almost every day since I’d arrived back at school, wanting to know how things were going and check in on my healing progress. Jacqueline, by contrast, hadn’t contacted me once since I’d left their house.
I wondered fleetingly if she was so standoffish because at some level, just like Mason, she blamed herself for my accident. Did she ever wonder whether if she hadn’t taken away my old car, if she hadn’t sent me back to Sand Valley, none of this would’ve happened?
Honestly, I doubted it.
She’d never even apologized for sending me away in the first place, and had stoically defended her actions toward both me and my mom. Assuming she felt guilty because I’d almost died was probably just wishful thinking on my part.
I hobbled between classes all day Monday, using my crutches when I needed to, but I could hardly focus on any of the lectures. My mind had already jumped ahead to four p.m., excited for my first appointment with the therapist.
The Princes all offered to drive me, and Mason’s face was so tense as he waited for my response that I couldn’t bring myself to say no.
Finn had seemed different, more relaxed—though no less angry and wary around Adena—since our encounter over the weekend, but Mason had been growing steadily more tense and irritable since I’d punched
the blonde queen bitch in the face. She’d had a black eye the next day that not even her expensive cover-up could conceal, and watching the bruise slowly fade over several more days had given me a feeling of satisfaction I wasn’t exactly proud of.
I wasn’t sure what had gotten under Mason’s skin, but something was clearly bothering him. The few times I’d tentatively brought it up though, he’d shut me down quickly, and I hadn’t pushed beyond that for an answer yet.
The same simmering, barely repressed anger seemed to churn under his skin as we all piled into his convertible to head into Roseland. I had a gym bag stashed in the trunk, and none of us had changed out of our uniforms yet. The facility was on the far side of town, and Mason had insisted we leave right after class to make sure we weren’t late.
Finn sat behind me, and when he reached around the seat like he always did to massage the back of my neck, I leaned into his touch instead of squirming away from it like I’d done in the past.
It still made butterflies explode in my stomach and a warm feeling pool lower in my belly, but there was something soothing about it too.
Reassuring.
Like I didn’t have to be wary of the way my body reacted to him anymore.
When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw Elijah watching me with his perceptive hazel eyes, and Finn’s words about how they all knew everything about each other filtered through my mind.
The other three Princes knew about me and Finn. I was sure of it. And everyone knew about me and Elijah too.
Yet here we all were, driving together without a care, no tension filling the inside of the car. Well, none except what poured off of Mason, who hadn’t relaxed for days. But none of his tension seemed to relate to this situation—to the fact that I’d slept with two of these boys.
Had Finn really meant it? That they were all mine if I wanted them?
Elijah’s soft smile seemed to say yes.
When we pulled up outside the facility, Cole grabbed my crutches from the car while Mason came around to open my door for me. The complex was big, with floor-to-ceiling windows lining the front, and when we walked inside, a pretty redhead behind the front desk looked up.