Page 188 of Chaos

Splitting my hair into two quick braids, I rummage around in my old bedside table in search of a couple of hair ties. “Early.”

Too early, considering the birds were chirping by the time I finally fell asleep—by the time Finn let me fall asleep.

Oh, who am I kidding? By the timeIletFinnfall asleep.

Turns out, I’m a big fan of sex that lasts longer than a few minutes of furious rutting. Sex where I come more than once—where he does too. Sex that I don’t regret before it even happens, that I savor while it is. Slow, sweet sex with eye-contact and kissing and lovely words likebeautifulandperfectandmine.

Was it a lot for me? Was it slightly terrifying? Did I stare into the abyss for a long, long time before sleep finally took me, desperately trying to put a name to the emotion throbbing behind my ribcage that wasn’t the one I suspected, that wasn’t the one I’m trying to very hard to pretend I didn’t hear him say?

Yes, yes, and yes.

But I fell asleep smiling with him still inside of me, his arms wrapped tightly around me, and Ilikedit. And I woke up liking it. I almost woke him up too, this insatiable, greedy thing in the pit of my belly crying out in protest, keening for more, when I slipped out of bed instead.

Itkeensfor more. Present tense—ineverytense, I suspect. And I need to get the hell out of this room because the longer I stare at the naked man in my bed, the more I want to rejoin him.

A shared sentiment, apparently. I sit down to pull on a pair of socks and within a millisecond, I’m in a very familiar position, straddling a very familiar body, with a very,veryfamiliar cock slotted between my thighs.

I don’t know if I’m grateful for the denim barrier preventing round… God, I don’t even know, or if I want to burn my favorite Levis immediately.

Warm hands find my waist, slip beneath my tank top, graze my ribcage—warm eyes find mine, slip inside my brain, graze the innermost crevices. “Feeling okay?”

“Pretty sure some of my organs are in the wrong place.”

Finn chuckles, squeezing my sides gently. “Sore?”

“Nah,” I lie because Finn is a fusser and I have a feeling he’d be upset at the thought of causing me pain even though I’m pretty sure riding a cock the size of my forearm—ofhisfucking forearm—is inevitably going to cause a little bit of a sting, no matter what. Plus, I’m not that sore. I’m not reallysoreat all. I’m more just… spent. Tired. A little achy. I was a lot more achy before I took a long shower, followed by an even longer soak inthe tub, and the hot water did more than just wash away the physical evidence of last night.

Lots and lots ofphysical evidence.

“You?” I flip the question back on him, making a face as I trace some more evidence, evidenceIleft. Scratches and half-moon fingernail indents and, Jesus Christ,teeth markson both of his traps. “Did I hurt you?”

“Yes,” the bastard drawls sarcastically, and any trace of guilt I might feel vanishes. “Ouch. Kiss it better?”

“Dick.”

“That too.”

I pinch a perfectly developed pec. “We have work.”

Finn hums, agreeing, but that doesn’t stop him from dropping a kiss to my chin.

“You need to shower. You smell like sex.”

He nuzzles my neck. “I smell like you.”

“You look like sex.”

“Funny, that.”

His lips find the sensitive, thin skin above my pulse, but before he can render me thoughtless,useless, I plant my hands on his chest and push him away. “You look thoroughly fucked, Finn.”

He flashes a lazy, sated smile. “I feel it.”

I sigh, trying not to smile myself, trying not to squirm as I silently acknowledge how thoroughly fucked I feel too. “You can’t go downstairs looking like that.”

“You’re so right. Let’s stay up here.”

“I’m all ridden out, cowboy.”

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