“Don’t bother,” I growl.
She tilts her face up at me.
I lean down and kiss her full on the mouth. I can’t understand why this woman alone can turn me to mush without doing anything.
16
Ashley
I can’t for the life of me work Finn out. Or myself.
All I know is this feels like more than just a crush in some ways, but in other ways, it feels like that’s all it should be. The way we don’t seem to be able to hold ourselves back from having sex with each other is mad and crazy, and it shouldn’t even be legal.
In some ways, what we’re doing together feels good and I think I should let it play out and see where it goes, but in other ways, in the sensible part of my head, it feels like a train wreck waiting to happen. It’s funny because Finn often accuses me of thinking with my emotions rather than my head, and yet he’s not exactly putting a stop to what keeps happening. I just wish he were thinking with his heart rather than his cock. And that’s where the problem lies.
That’s how I know I’ll end up hurt.
The chemistry between Finn and me is undeniable now, but for him, I think that’s as far as it goes. Yes, that’s definitely as far as it goes. He doesn’t want more. I’m pretty certain he doesn’t feel anything else for me except lust. If he does, he certainly doesn’t show it. He instigated the sex last night and afterwards, I know he was the one who spread a blanket over us and cuddled into me. But that’s how he probably is with all his women.
After all, he seems perfectly capable of having sex with me and then going back to us being a business arrangement and nothing more. I don’t like the idea of us being just fuck buddies, but I also don’t want to put a stop to it.
Even the thought of Finn and me being in close proximity to each other and not having sex is just unthinkable. God, why can’t I be one of those women who can have sex with a hot guy and not get attached to him? Why can’t I be someone who just takes pleasure in the moment and doesn’t feel the need to analyze everything and overthink it?
Maybe if I move out of Finn’s apartment and put some physical distance between us, I could make sense of my emotions, put it into perspective a little bit more. I should just make up with my father and ask to go back home. Or take one of those shithole apartments I’ve viewed until I can find somewhere better.
It’ll look weird me moving out of Finn’s place just three weeks away from marrying him. And besides, I don’t want to move out. I like living with Finn. And that’s the truth of it. I like being here. It feels right, like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
Even now, I’ve rushed home from work earlier than I usually would, to try and spend some time with Finn because I know I won’t see much of him tomorrow evening. He’s having dinner at his parents’ place tomorrow evening. I’d been invited to the dinner, but I politely declined. Helen is so damned scary and it’s more than enough when I have to see so much of her for the wedding planning, let alone socializing with her. I’ve only met Finn’s father once. He came to the apartment and Finn introduced him to me, but I was rushing out and we never got past hello. While he seemed nice enough, it doesn’t mean I want to sit through an awkward dinner with him.
Heck, I don’t even know how that would go. Would we all sit around the dinner table and pretend like Finn and I are a normal couple, or would we acknowledge the fact this is a sham relationship?
I wonder what Helen would make of the fact that Finn and I can’t seem to keep our hands off each other when we’re alone together. I smile at the thought of her patronizing face. Would she be annoyed at Finn being with someone so socially inept?
The intercom buzzes and I frown.
At first, I think Finn has forgotten his keys, but I remember the doorman. There’s no way he’d call up ahead to tell me Finn is here. Finn would obviously just come up. Unless he’s making sure I’m home first, just to save himself the journey if I’m not. I’m not going to solve the mystery sitting here dithering that’s for sure. I get up off the couch and move to the intercom then press the talk button. “Hello?” I say.
“Hello, Ms. Winters. I have a Janette Lake for Mr. Jagger,” the doorman greets.