I slowly reach forward and test the waters. I place my finger lightly against his lower lip, and he sighs, his breath warming my skin. I wait to see if I went too far, if he wakes. When he doesn’t, I rub across it lightly.

Paying no attention to anything but his eyes, my finger, and his lip, I don’t notice the hand that now is holding mine until it’s too late to pull it away. Then he rolls to his back, still holding my hand.

I follow the motion to avoid waking him, and he places it against his heart, which beats slowly against my hand. With the steady rhythm, with the knowledge that, if I pull away, there is a chance I will wake him, I make the decision to stay still and wait him out until he moves again, regardless of how much time it takes.

I wake to something rubbing my back and the scent that is Finn. My head rests on his chest, his heart beating much too fast for me to think he is asleep. My leg is wrapped around him, and something hard is pressing against it.

Dear God, what have I done? I think to myself as he lets out a deep breath.

“You’re tensing up on me. You must finally be awake.”

I open my eyes, knowing I can’t hide it any longer.

“Can you fall back asleep and pretend this didn’t happen?” I try to move, but he holds me more tightly.

“Even when we sleep, there is something magnetic between us. I propose we talk about this like adults.”

“Are you still sorry about stealing my sucker?” I ask.

He chuckles. “No.”

I drag my leg off him, and he groans when it rubs against his erection. When I sit up and look at him, his eyes are closed and his jaw muscles tight.

“Do you still think I’m mentally ill?”

He shrugs. “You clearly have some issues, but don’t we all?”

The whisper-soft, gravely way he says it is not meant to antagonize me. His eyes open, clear of muck and redness.

I nod.

“I’m sober right now, Sonya. I won’t hate you regardless of the answer you give, but we do this or we don’t.”

I shrug.

“I should also point out that I am sober and my dick is not only hard but aching, too.”

I laugh, and he smiles.

“You said on two occasions to tell you when I’m sober and—”

“I know I did.” I nod, then shake my head.

“Stop overthinking this and—”

“There are some things you should know,” I start.

“The past?”

I nod, confirming, as tears build in my throat.

“Look.” He sits up and takes my hands. I know he’s trying not to grip too hard, trying not to scare me. Guilt rushes over me and spills out one tear at a time.

He lets go of my hand and brushes his calloused thumb across my cheek. “The first time I saw you, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to fuck you or …” He pauses. “Well, you know the rest. It was like my past and future collided and there could be nothing in between. I don’t want that.

“I’m sure you’ve done your research. I’m sure my past scares the hell out of you, but what I can tell you—and it’s your choice to believe me or not—but I am not who I was. I am not who I have been. If I tell you I want you, I sure as fuck do. I’m not trying to get you in my bed by saying it, and I don’t want to get so caught up in trying not to feel that I stop completely.

“Look at me, Sonya.” I do as he asks. “My past is my past. My future is unknown. But right here, right now, I can tell you again, if you’re under me, no one else is.”

“But my past—”

“Don’t give a damn,” he says, wiping away more tears. “You tasted too fucking good the other night, and I’ve been trying to escape it since. Waking up with you right now felt good. It’s the only peace I’ve felt in a long time. You have me tied up, twisted, and running for the fucking hills, babe, and I need to be present. I’ve worked too hard to stand where I am today and feel like I’m just going to fuck it up. Past be dammed, I made it. Me fighting you, trying to get you to do the same, isn’t doing me or you a bit of good.” He lifts my chin, then bows his head and closes his eyes as if saying a prayer. “Which will it be?”

“I don’t want to kill you,” I whisper as his lips inch closer to mine. “I don’t want the past to ruin the here and now, either, but—”

“Fucking perfect,” he says, right before his lips press against mine.

I press my lips to his harder.

Past be damned, future be damned. I want Finn Beckett in a way I have for four years, and right now, in the here and now, I can have him.

His tongue caresses mine as his hands take my face, one on each side of my head. He angles it so I am leaning back, opening wider for him. His tongue rushes up my tongue then slowly down, and he groans, pulling away.

I open my eyes and they meet his. Nothing is hidden by muck or a mask; all I see is desire in layers of want.

“That fucking taste,” he growls as he moves my head again and goes for my neck. “Here, too. Fuck.” He flips me on my back effortlessly and holds himself above me, looking at me, searching for something. “Everywhere.”

His eyes grow hungrier as he uses one hand to push my long-sleeved T-shirt up as he kisses his way to my bra. Then he pulls the cup down, and my nipples ache even worse when the breeze from the ceiling fan hits them.

“Ahh,” I cry out.

“I’ve got you.”

His mouth wraps around my nipple as he cups and squeezes my breast in his hand. Then I feel his tongue caressing slowly back and forth and around it. He sucks gently then harder and harder until I fist his silky black hair in my hands. The intensity of the pleasure takes me away until I cry out his name.

His knee falls between my legs and the other beside my hip as he continues sucking slowly, gently while I try to regain my breath.

His hand works the front clasp of my bra and it opens, releasing me. When he takes his mouth from my breast, I groan in protest, and his eyes narrow as he looks at my chest while moving so he is kneeling, taking me in appreciatively.

I have never loved my naked body, but the way he looks at me gives me a sense of comfort and security I have never felt before.

I reach up, wanting to touch him, to show him appreciation. However, he captures my hands and lifts them up, his eyes glued to me, mine to his.

He lifts my shirt and tosses it aside, my bra next. Then his long, strong arm wraps around my back, and he pulls me toward him. One hand on my breast, eyes still intensely staring into mine, his other hand now kneads my ass and pulls me against him.

My body sizzles against his; the heat, the electricity is a connection I don’t understand, but I want to so badly. I wrap my arms around him and allow my hands to fall slowly from his shoulders down his muscular biceps and wrap around his waist, holding on tightly as his mouth begins another assault on my breasts.

I wrap my legs around him, seeking friction, wanting it, needing it.

“Tell me you want me,” he growls as he licks at my rock hard nipples, one then the other.

“I want you,” I pant as I arch my back, pushing myself against his mouth with urgency.

“Good damn thing, because there is no way I can be stopped.”

He leans forward, pushing me toward the mattress, one hand supporting my back, the other clasping my ankles together, keeping my legs wrapped around him, and pressing his erection firmly against what I can only imagine to be soaked panties.

His lips are against mine, his tongue tasting me and hand gripping my breast while the other is still cupping my ass, holding it firmly against his hard length as his hips grind against me. The pulse, the pull, the burn is building, and I am so close.

I whimper as he kisses up my jaw.

“Let go, Sonya. Come for me.”

“Together,” I cry out.

“I’ll get mine. We’ll do it together, but this one is you, all you. You and I sober and still unable to deny”—he thrusts hard against me, and I can’t deny a damn thing, not even if I wanted to—“us.”