When I reach the button between my breasts, he stops me. “That’s good enough. Do it up again.”
I would’ve kept going. I’ve never considered myself a seductress, but maybe it’s just been hiding under the surface. I do up all the buttons and go to pick up my sweater.
“Hang on.” He pulls back from the camera. “Hmm.”
“What is it?”
“They’re not right. Better in theory than reality.”
It took hardly any effort to get the first three photos. Maybe I’m trying too hard. I touch my face. “Is it me?”
“No. It just doesn’t say what the coffee pictures do.”
God, I need some of that right now—a mug to hold, something to sip when doubt rears its head. “Maybe it would work better with the caption?” I suggest.
“They should work separately and together, your words and my pictures, don’t you think?”
It makes sense. I’ve attempted to paint a picture with one line. He wants his photo to tell a story. “What I wrote isn’t about a girl undressing herself,” I say. “You should do it.”
“Do what?”
“Unbutton my blouse. That would be more accurate.”
He blinks down to the floor, then back up. “I want to be the one to take the photo.”
“Put it on a timer. If you set up the shot, it’s still yours.”
He considers this and returns to playing with the camera. “Take a small step back. Show me your throat, like you did before.”
My insides quiver. His commands are serious, businesslike, but he wants people to look at these photos and think of sex, and how can that not turn me on?
When he seems satisfied, he looks up. “Ready for me?”
I nod. “I think so.”
“Don’t move. Let me do the moving.”
That’s harder than it sounds. I’m already trying not to squirm. He presses a button. Comes to me. Gets close. Moves behind me, even closer, until his front warms my back. He can’t be more than inch from me. “I’m going to touch you now.”
My skin is like one giant exposed nerve anticipating his hands. He doesn’t touch me, though, not really. He hums in my ear, “Count to three.”
“One.”
He raises his hands, and they hover at my throat.
“Two.”
His stubble ghosts against my cheek, giving me goosebumps.
“Three.”
He undoes the first button, barely even touching the fabric, as the camera snaps. Despite that, or maybe because of it, I shiver. His lips brush the side of my head, his breath in my hair, as he continues down. “I don’t want to stop,” he whispers.
“Then don’t.”
“I have to.”
He stops opening my blouse. I hold his wrists to keep him there, and he steps into me, his hardness pressing into my lower back. When I exhale, it comes out as a pained, unnatural sound. “Please,” I say.
“Please what? What are you asking for?”
“Anything. I-I want this.”
He pulls his hands from mine, and slides one down the front of me. He grips me between the legs and backs me against him, reminding me with his intimidating length that he wants me too. “I already told you why I can’t, but when you beg . . .”
My heart beats in my stomach. I need relief. To feel good. I move against him, pleading with my hips. “Is that what you need?” I ask. “For me to beg?”
“I need you to not beg.”
I’m overcome, and it’s a first for me. Everything over the last week has been foreplay, leading to this moment. If he pulls away for good, I’ll be forced back into a restricted state of arousal. “What if I do it?” I ask.
“Do what?”
I push his hand away and slip mine down the front of my skirt, into the elastic of my tights. “It’s not cheating if I do it to myself.”
“You wouldn’t.”
He’s right—I wouldn’t. Not normally. But I am, that’s how desperate he makes me. I slide a finger along the damp seat of my thong. Surprised by how wet I am, I envision Finn easily slipping into me and moan.
“You’re not fighting fair.”
“I’m not the one fighting.” His erection alone assures me he wants this too. Emboldened by that knowledge, I go out on a limb to hopefully persuade him. “I want this, Finn. Tell me what I have to do to get it. What do you need?”
When he answers, he pronounces each word, as if it’s taking all his concentration to speak. “It can’t be about what I need.”
“I need it.”
His ensuing silence isn’t a no, and it’s the permission I need. I’ve been circling the idea since I met Finn, but now I can leap knowing Finn will catch me—and that he wants to. “I’ll end it with Rich right now. My phone’s in the kitchen.”
“No.” He puts a hand around my bicep, keeping me where I am. “You shouldn’t decide like this.”
I cling to the hesitation in his voice. “It’s already over for me. I just have to make sure he knows so you’ll believe me.”
“Halston.”
He could be warning or pleading with me, but either way, his resolve is weakening. I can sense it. If I leave the room, I might break the spell, so I pull my hand out of my skirt and feel behind us for his back pocket. I slip his phone out. My fingers shake as I try to correctly type in the passcode.
“You need a clear head for this,” he says. “We both do.”
“It’s not as impulsive as it seems.” I dial Rich’s number and hold my breath. It rings twice before going to voicemail. I need to tell Rich we’re over—for all of our sakes. Rich deserves that before anything happens. So does Finn.
“Rich, it’s me,” I start.
“Halston, please,” Finn whispers.
With just my name, I understand what he’s trying to tell me. This is wrong. No matter how badly I want this, I can’t break up with Rich over a message. Reluctantly, I say, “Call me when you get this. We need to talk.”
Finn takes the phone from my hand, hangs up, and puts it away. “There’s no rush.” He’s still pressed against me. I’m not sure how he’s restraining himself when I’ve told him how badly I want this.
“I’m going to end things with him. You believe me, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“So what does it matter if I do it tonight or tomorrow? It’s over.”
“Once I start thinking of you as mine, that changes everything.” There’s undeniable need in his voice—sadness too. “I can’t let myself believe you’re mine if you’re not. I’m the one who’ll get hurt.”
He must not realize that the idea of staking his claim only makes me want this more. I gyrate against him. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I want to be yours.”
He grabs my hip, his fingers digging into my skin, trying to still me. “You have to slow down.”
“I don’t want to with you. Everyone else tells me to calm down or take it easy or go slow. I want to be myself with you, Finn. I want to be allowed to want you this way.”
He drops his face into the crook of my neck and sighs deeply. One arm wraps around me from behind and then his other. I continue to move against him and eventually, he answers, syncing his thrusts with mine. “Christ, Halston,” he mutters. “You’re killing me here.”
“Then stop fighting me.”
He walks us forward a few steps. We reach a wall. I put my hands on it and push back against him. Momentarily, I think I’ve won. He’s going to rip off his pants and fuck me. But he just touches me through my clothing, circling his fingers over my clit quickly, as if our time together could end any second.
I curl my hands into fists, scraping the wall with my fingernails. He secures my back to his front as he slides his shaft up and down the crack of my ass. Even with layers of clothing separating us, he’s growing bigger, harder, engorged—or maybe that’s just what I believe because I’m seconds from falling apart. Even though I’d
rather wait to climax with him, his hand feels so good that I end up humping it.
“You’re going to make me come in my fucking pants,” he says.
He’s losing control. Knowing I have that power over him makes me crumble. I orgasm with Finn’s hand between my legs while he grinds into me and doesn’t fuck me. He takes my hips and thrusts against me more furiously, burying his face in my hair and groaning until he finishes.
If my heart pounds any harder, it’ll burst through my chest. Finn shudders behind me. “Fuck,” he says. “I had one rule.”
One rule—and he bent it for me. Maybe I should be sorry. I don’t want him to regret anything when it comes to us. But being simultaneously coveted and owned is addicting, a high I’ve never felt, one I couldn’t fight in the moment. And we haven’t even been skin to skin yet.
“Technically, we didn’t break it,” I say breathlessly.
He releases my hips. “I think the line is too thin to say.”
I turn around. Concern is etched into his features. I want to erase all his doubts, comfort him. “It’s over with him. Completely. Trust me.”
My phone rings from the kitchen. Finn and I look at each other. “It’s him,” I say.
“I’m going to clean myself up.” Finn walks away but pauses in the doorway. “Whatever happens, don’t go to his place. At least not tonight. I can’t stand the thought of it.”
He leaves the studio. With his final plea, I understand his fears run deeper than just the injustice of cheating on Rich.
If Finn is worried about what’ll happen if I don’t end things at all, maybe he already thinks of me as his.
12
I make it to Finn’s kitchen right before Rich’s call goes to voicemail. “Hey,” I answer.
“Sorry I missed you earlier,” he says. “I was on the other line, and I didn’t recognize the number.”
“With who?” I ask. “It’s the middle of the night.”
His silence answers my question.
I scoff. “You couldn’t even wait until tomorrow to call my dad? Did you give him every last detail of our fight, or just the gist?”
“I was worried. You took off.”
“I’m not a child, even if you guys treat me like one.”
“Being concerned about your wellbeing is not belittling you. Where are you?”
My legs are weak from the intensity of the orgasm I had not five minutes ago, so I turn to rest my back against the kitchen counter. Finn is leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed. This is a private conversation, and Finn has no business listening, but the fact that he’s doing it anyway turns me on a little. As if he’s too impatient to do anything other than hear me end it. “I’m at my apartment.”
“No you’re not. I called your doorman when you didn’t answer your cell, before I got your message. Whose number was that?”
“We need to talk.”
“I know, but I have to be up in five hours,” he says. “Can you at least tell me where you are so I know you’re okay?”
“What I meant was I need to talk. You can listen.”
He starts to remind me of an important meeting in the morning he can’t afford to doze off in. I don’t want to hurt Rich; I’d rather let him down gently. But he can’t even give me a minute to break up with him, so I rip off the Band-Aid. “We’re over, Rich.”
He pauses. “You know I didn’t mean what I said earlier about you not coming over anymore. I was mad.”
“It’s not about that.”
“We fought, Halston. I know we rarely do it, but it’s normal. It’s probably even good for us. Couples fight.”
I shake my head, looking outside to avoid Finn’s gaze. “The fight was nothing. It just opened my eyes.”
“To?”
“We aren’t right for each other. I don’t think we need to get into the nitty-gritty details, because you know it’s true.”
It’s so silent, I can almost hear the flakes of snow brushing against the window. “All right, Halston. You want to split? Sure. Let’s do that.”
I’d like to thank him and hang up, but I get the feeling the conversation isn’t over.
“I mean,” he continues wryly, “calling me in the middle of the night to end a two-year relationship is completely rational. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve stopped seeing your doctor and taken your treatment into your own hands. The two aren’t related at all.”
I feel Finn’s eyes on me. The apartment is deadly quiet. I turn my face and whisper, “It’s not about that.”
“No?” he asks. “And I’m a Russian spy. Obviously, messing with your dosage is your reason for storming off and then calling me like this. We’ve been good up until a few days ago.”
“No we haven’t,” I say more heatedly. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, I just didn’t know it.”
Shit. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I’m not even sure if I mean it. If I backtrack, though, what will Finn think?
“Is that true?” Rich asks.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I haven’t really thought of leaving Rich in the active sense. Once in a while, I wonder if there’s more out there for me or if it matters that something between us has always felt off. He’s the first man to love me, though. Finn is the first to pursue me.
“If you’re not sure, why the hurry?” he asks. “Go home. Sleep. We can talk at work tomorrow. I’ll even cancel my second meeting.”
Finn watches me. With him, there are no guarantees. Is my urge to take that risk a red flag? Or an inner push toward something better? If I want Finn, there can’t be any in between or uncertainty; he’s made that clear. Maybe he’s the wrong choice. Maybe he’ll hurt me. At least I’ll feel something, though, and that’s more than I can say for Rich. “There’s nothing to talk about aside from logistics,” I tell Rich. “I love you as a friend, but as a partner—”
“We can pick this up tomorrow,” he repeats.
“There is no tomorrow.”
“Yes there is. At the office. Where you and I will both be. And your dad, who won’t be on board with this.”
“I’ll handle my dad,” I say, even though I’d rather elope with Finn than stay and deal with my dad’s disappointment. “Please box up my things and—”
“Have you been drinking?” he asks.
My face warms. I’m not sure if Finn can hear. “No. Have the boxes sent to my apartment. Charge it to Dad’s delivery service.”
“Is it something else?” he presses. “Something worse to cope with everything?”
“Everything?”
“I know this time of year is hard for you.”
Terrified he’ll bring up my mother and make this night even more uncomfortable, I shake my head. “I have to go. Please just tell me you get that we’re breaking up.”
“Fine,” he says. “Take the time you need. I hope I’ll still be here when you realize your mistake.”
Mistake. I have no doubt he intentionally chose that word to drill home the point that without my meds, I can’t make rational decisions. “Goodn—”
He hangs up. I check the screen. Three minutes, eleven seconds. That’s how long it took to extricate myself from Rich. Appropriate, I guess, considering this relationship often felt half-assed. Two years lost, just like that. It’s angering in a way. Years of my youth have been spent bending to other people’s wills. The worst part is, it’s my own fault. It was easier to accept what I had than convince myself I was worth more.
“Hey,” Finn says from above me. I didn’t even hear him approach.
I look up and realize my vision is blurred. “Hey.”
He frowns. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, and a few tears fall onto my cheeks. “I’m not crying over him.”
He wipes under my eye with his thumb. “It’s okay if you are. You’re allowed.”
“I just feel like I’m waking up from a long sleep. Not even a restful one.” I could be referring to the break up or my
meds. Both, I guess. “I’ve wasted so much time.”
“We’ll make up for it,” he murmurs.
“Was that enough?” I ask. “Are you satisfied?”
He pulls me against his chest, tightening his arms around me. “Don’t worry about me right now.”
“But—”
“Will you let me hold you?”
I’m stiff as a board with my hands at my sides. I force myself to relax against his body, hug his middle, and rest my chin on his chest. “Better?” I whisper.
“Yeah.” He searches my eyes a few silent seconds before bending his head. My mouth opens for his like we’ve done this a million times, but I’ve never been struck by lightning, and that’s how his kiss feels—electric, exceptional, and bigger than us. His lips are as soft and full as they look, but more firm, more certain, than I’m used to. They’re made to kiss away my tears while inciting a fire in me. I could fall in love this second or fuck him until one of us goes blind.
He cradles my face in his hands.
Fall in love.
Then slides them down my back to grip my ass.
Fuck him blind.
“I want you as mine,” he growls.
“I want to be yours.”
He hooks a finger into the waistband of my skirt. “Say that again.”
We breathe into each other’s mouths. It’s too soon to tell him I think I already am his. So I untie his sweatpants instead. “Let me show you how badly I want it.”
He stills my hands. “It’s too soon. You’re vulnerable.”
I haven’t thought of much else in a week. Just him. Finn Finn Finn. Seeing him. Fucking him. Posing for him. I’ve already forgotten about Rich, and right now, I can’t even remember a life outside this apartment. “I’m ready,” I say.
“You’re not. It’s been a rough day.”
“That’s why I need this.” I move even closer. He releases my hands, and I slide them up his chest, around his neck. “Please,” I murmur, rising onto the balls of my feet to nuzzle his neck. I can smell him now, woodsy hints mixed with sweat and brine. He only came in his pants a few minutes ago, and I can almost convince myself I can smell that too. “I have to feel good.” I beg for a kiss and he gives me one. “I haven’t felt good in so long.”
Yours to Bare Page 10