Page 130 of Chaos

“That doesn't sound like a good thing.”

“Oh, it’s the fuckingworst.” Finn nips at my earlobe, a punishment that feels much more like a reward. “Here’s this girl, this angry, scowling girl, who seems to hate everyone, who seems to hate me, who I don't particularly like, yet I can’t stop thinking about her. Can’t stop looking at her.” He pulls back just enough to grant me his eyes, to steal mine. “My mama raised a real strong-willed, independent boy, but there I was, following you around, no better than Grouch. We’re scared for the exact same reason. Neither of us have any fucking control over this.”

This. What isthis? He’s giving me so much, spouting so many words, but still, nothing is clear. Still, I have to ask, “What do you want from me?”

A smiling mouth strays to my neck again. “Whatever you wanna give me.”

When Finn sucks, I gasp. I shiver. I plant my palms on his shoulders and rise on my tiptoes, an instinctual request for more that I don’t totally realize I’ve made until he gives it to me. Until he’s bathing my neck, my chest, my shoulders in more attention than they’ve ever received. Until he knows my skin better than I do, until he’s touched it more than I have, until I’m panting and practically climbing him. Only then does he work his way back to my mouth, and he hovers there.

Breathing. Sharing my breath. Coaxing a confession out of me without even trying—or maybe that’s exactly his intention. “I don’t know what I’m doing with you.”

“Anything you want.”

Jesus. How the fuck is a girl supposed to react to an offer like that?

How’s a girl supposed toresistan offer like that?

I should be able to. Backtrack a month, and I would’ve been able to. If it wasn’t the most patient man in the world offeringmethe fucking world, then I would be capable of turning him down. With Finn, I know in my gut that for every excuse I snap, he’ll conjure up a solution.

Defeat settles in my bones, but it’s not bad. It isn’t defeating. It’s… clarifying. Freeing. It has me sliding my palms down his chest and physically shoving him away, but in every other way, I cradle him close.

Finn doesn’t know that, yet he goes willingly. He lets me push until the backs of his legs hit the bed. Dropping to sit on the edge, he rests back on his hands, waiting patiently as I loom over him the same way I did last night.

Except last night, I wasn’t working up the nerve to straddle him. Last night, I didn’t slowly raise the restricting skirt of my dress until I could settle a knee on either side of his hips and drop my weight onto his lap. Last night, I didn’t return his offered sentiment, I didn’t quietly admit, “I wanna kiss you.”

“I know.”

Cocky bastard.

I wish I felt like that. So unwaveringly confident. So sure.

I’m not sure. About this one little thing, yes, but that’s it. That’s… that’s all I know. The physical stuff. That’s all I have to offer. That’s all anyone’s ever wanted me to offer.

“I…” My hands curl around his shoulders again, clutching once more. I repeat, “I don’t know what I’m doing with you.”

Two hands rise to cup my cheeks. “You’ll figure it out.”

I’m out of excuses. I’m out of energy to come up with one. I’m…

I’m tired of lying. Pretending. Because if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.

I sigh. “You’re gonna make me make the first move, aren’t you?”

“I already moved, princess. Been waiting for you to catch up.”

Well, then.

What the fuck do I have to lose?

I expect sweet, soft kisses.

Something gentle, like Finn. Maybe even a little timid. I expect to be the insistent one, the firm one, to coax something wilder out in him.

I am so very wrong.

Before our lips even touch, Finn groans, a noise that’s as relieved as it is desperate, and I suppose that should’ve been my warning. I should’ve known that even though I make the first move, the lead is not mine to take. As he locks a forearm against my lower back, fingers cupping my ribcage while others bury themselves in the hair at the base of my skull, I should know that I am not in control.

I might kiss him, but hekissesme.

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