Snatched

“Hi,” I say, a little stunned to hear my own voice sound so small and sweet.

“Hi,” he answers, with none of my hesitation. He doesn’t look remotely nervous, a fact which doesn’t surprise me. I’m not sure Finn Thorne has ever been nervous in his life. He waves me around back. “Come inside. We’ve got a lot to get to,” he says, looking amused, but in a way that’s reassuring.

I make my way up the steps, unsure what to expect when Finn draws me close to him. He lifts an eyebrow, then reaches out and pulls me to him.

I look down at the ground, my heart thumping against my ribs “Are you going to mention the fact that you failed a quiz?”

He shrugs. “It was just a quiz.”

“Yes, but what about your test, Finn? It’s important.”

“You’ll make sure I pass.” He ducks his head down until I lift my chin and ours lips meet. It’s not the deep, needy kiss from last night; it’s delicate, searching, asking. He licks at my lips, and when I allow his tongue into my mouth, it’s playing and gentle. Though, of course, it turns me on all the same.

Finn moves aside so I can walk inside first. He has the television connected to his laptop, and is playing something to do with football— side by side comparisons of teams or plays or who even knows.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Me on the left, back in Florida. Adams on the right. The coaches put it together. Part of the reason Harton wanted me when I left Florida is because Adams and I play differently. They made a tape so I can identify and exploit those differences.”

I watch Finn on the screen, deftly throwing the ball, running a play, his shoulders wide, his back straight. He looks in control, sexy, his body wired with energy, all muscle and power.

“What are the differences? In layman’s terms. I don’t really understand football,” I say.

Finn looks stricken. “What part don’t you understand?”

“The part where you play football.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Finn says, grabbing his chest like he’s having a heart attack. “Nothing at all?”

“It’s not really my thing.”

“I’ll explain it to you,” Finn says, and starts toward the couch.

I cough to stop him. “Don’t take it personally, but…if I wanted to understand football, I would already,” I say as gently as possible.

Finn freezes, like he can’t handle this information. “But you go to Harton. You tutor football players!”

“I tutor you,” I say. “And you happen to be a football player.”

“Kenley,” he says. I cross my arms and laugh at him; he looks dismayed, but cracks a smile.

“Sorry to break the illusion, Finn, but not everyone loves football. Though I do know a lot about curling. My grandfather was on the Canadian Olympic curling team in the fifties.”

“Jesus Christ,” Finn mutters, and slumps onto the couch. “Alright. Though it doesn’t seem fair that I have to learn math from you,, but you won’t learn football from me.”

“Math is an academic.”

“Football is a national pastime.”

“That’s baseball.”

“A national pastime, not the national pastime. Do you even go to the football games?” As he says this, he motions for me to join him on the couch, and I do so.

“I’ve been to them before, if I get lottery tickets. I like the whole crowd experience,” I admit.

“You’ll come to one of the games they’re starting me in.”

“Okay,” I say, nodding. “I’d love to watch you play.”

“And in the meantime,” he says huskily, “I’ll just have to teach you something else.”

This puts an end to the banter and leaves me blushing. Finn reaches over and pulls me closer to him, kisses my forehead, then eases my right leg over his lap so I’m straddling him. Like everything else, he does it so easily that I become incredibly aware of how strong he is.

“You can’t just position me however you want, you know,” I say, but my voice is demure, a fact that isn’t lost on Finn.

“Yes, I can,” Finn says in response, then cups my ass cheeks with his hands. He scoots me in closer, then kisses me again, this time deeper, then pulls away and lets his tongue trail down my neck. He nips at the skin there gently, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make me wet. Wetter, actually— I’m already soaked, I’m a little embarrassed to admit.

“Mandy is mad at me for staying over with you,” I say suddenly. “We got in a big fight. It’s stupid. She thinks you’re trouble.” I don’t know why, exactly, I tell him— I didn’t even know I was going to tell him until the words came tumbling out of my mouth. Except that maybe…well. I don’t want to admit it, but maybe I’m a tiny bit worried that Mandy could be right. Not that I’d regret the last night with Finn even if she was, but…