But fuck, I need to go home. I’ve been putting it off as long as I can but I’m needed there. I belong there. But how do I leave now? One smile or smart-ass comment from her and all my thoughts sort of rearrange themselves, the inappropriate, usually pornographic ones sliding to the front, while the important ones like family and responsibility are shuffled to the back.

I’ve tried to ignore it. I’ve tried to downplay the way my heart jumps in my chest when I hear her name, done my best to explain away the times I find myself thinking about her, wondering what she’s doing, worrying whether she’s all right. But I can’t anymore. I don’t want to.

Jesus, I’ve never thought this much about a woman in my life.

“Finn?”

I look down to see her blinking awake. “I’m here,” I tell her. I kiss her temple, her cheek, let my hand move down her body to rest at her hip.

“You stayed.” It’s not a question, and I feel the moment she really wakes up, realizes that I’m still here, with her. Harlow pushes herself up before she climbs on top of me. Her silhouette blocks the streetlights filtering in through the dark window and all I can make out is the shape of her body, the pink of her nipples against her skin.

“I stayed so I could fuck you again,” I tell her and she laughs.

Actually, I’m as surprised as she is that I’m still here. I’d promised myself I’d wait until she was asleep, I’d make sure she was okay and then I’d head back to Oliver’s. I’d come up with some sort of a plan. Clearly, I’m a liar.

Her hands move over my stomach, my cock already hard between her legs. She rocks her hips and I can feel where she’s still wet, the way she slides over me.

“Done sleeping?” I ask, placing a hand on each of her hips.

She nods, slow and sleepy. “Dreamed about you.”

I trace my thumbs in small circles over her hip bones and in, toward her navel. “What about?”

She rocks a bit more forcefully now, with intent. “This.”

With every shift backward she brings the head of my cock closer, closer, so close to slipping inside. Bare.

“Careful,” I warn, but it’s halfhearted at best.

Harlow’s head falls forward, the ends of her hair brushing my stomach, my chest. “Feels so good,” she says, hitching in a breath. “Oh... God, it’s so good.”

I know I should take control, guide her away from where I’m hard and greedy, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

One more time.

One more second.

“Wait,” I start to say, and hiss in a breath when I feel the gentle rise of her clit, warm and slippery. “Let me get something, sweetheart.”

“Just for a second?” she asks, grinding over me. “Ahh... right there. Right there.”