Counterfeit Love

So from there, things went into overdrive.

Equipment was hauled out.

Every surface I had been near was wiped, and a few more for good measure.

"What about the car?" I asked, meaning the one parked at the side of the house.

"Ewan took it to the car wash yesterday. Got it vacuumed out and everything. We should be fine, "Chris told me in a whisper as we made our way to the cars.

"We're going to head back," Ferryn told us as we walked up. "Don't want to be caught down here with all this illegal shit," she added, shrugging.

"I'll hitch a ride back with them," Malcolm added after a long look at Chris and then me.

"We have to return the rental and book a flight," Chris told me. "We will be back sometime before tomorrow afternoon."

"Yep. Have fun," Ferryn called before closing herself into the front seat beside Vance, who had the car running.

For a long moment, Malcolm held my gaze, saying a thousand words in a single look, before climbing into the SUV and closing the door.

"That was weird. Even for him," Chris decided, shaking her head at the car pulling away.

"He was telling me I better not hurt you, dollface," I told her.

"That's ridiculous," she decided, rolling her eyes, then going around the car to the driver's seat.

"Your people love you. That's not ridiculous. So, what kind of fancy-ass place you got booked for us?

I didn't understand her dubious look until we pulled up to the old motel, until we climbed out, until we walked down the hall with its shabby carpet and peeling wallpaper.

"This kinda joint doesn't have a presidential suite, huh?" I asked, moving into her room.

"They don't even have extra towels," she told me, grimacing.

"Where's your canned air? And pillows? Spare sheets?"

"Honestly," she said, dropping down on the corner of the bed, "I forgot about all of that. I was a little obsessed with tracking down this guy I know."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, sending her a smile. "He must be something pretty special then."

"I think so," she told me, as I took a couple steps closer, stopping when her hand pressed into the center of my chest, stopping me an arm's length away. "I also think he needs a shower. And probably a toothbrush."

That was fair enough.

"Alright. How about I get cleaned up, and you order something to eat? I've been eating slop for weeks."

"I, ah, I remember that well. I ate everything I could get my hands on for weeks after. I will run out and grab some snacks and stuff too for the rest of the night. And get you a change of clothes."

When I got out of the shower, she still wasn't back, which left me walking around in a towel since this wasn't the kind of place to provide robes.

I didn't think much of it until she hustled in, arms loaded down with bags, then froze, lips parted, gaze sliding hungrily down my body.

"Oh," she hissed, slowly dropping down the bags.

"Hand me the clothes," I demanded softly. "No?" I asked when she gave me a tight head shake.

"No," she said, voice airless.

"Prefer me in this?" I asked, teasing.

"Yes," she told me, voice a little husky.

With that, she was moving across the floor toward me, stopping maybe a foot away, her hand raising, pressing into the center of my chest, then slowly, excruciatingly, moving downward, slipping toward the side, pressing gently over my ribs. "Does this hurt?" she asked.

"Not right now," I admitted, not sure how much touching I could stand.

Her hand slid down, sliding over my hip bone, across my stomach, stopping at the tuck of my towel.

Then hooking her fingers in it.

"Chris..."

Her gaze moved upward, finding mine, holding.

"I want to try," she told me, voice barely more than a whisper.

"You're sure?" I asked, praying she would say yes, but prepared for her to say no.

Her fingers pulled, loosening the tuck, making the towel fall to the floor.

"Yes."Chapter FifteenChrisI was.

That was the craziest part.

I was sure.

I wanted it.

Him.

I wanted him.

I'd known that already, had experienced the fierce attraction I felt when he was near.

I figured that we would work our way toward physical intimacy over the weeks and months ahead.

I never imagined that in one split second, I would make a decision that I wanted to try.

Not just wanted. That was too tame. I needed to try. Everything inside me was begging for a release to the desire coursing through my veins, sparking off my nerve endings. It overwhelmed my senses. It banked down all the old fears, the old traumas. All that was left in that moment was curiosity, anticipation, and a bone-deep surety.

So... yes.

A thousand times yes.

The weeks of uncertainty had only strengthened my confidence that Finch was it for me.

Sure, it was too soon to say something as cheesy as 'happily ever after'--if it was ever appropriate to say something so ridiculous--but I knew that this was something serious, that it was something possibly life-changing.