Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar, #2)(92)

I’d held up those guards for years.

They all came crashing down when I stared at the last picture.

It was of Finn and me at my college graduation. I was wearing a black cap and gown. His parents had come to celebrate with Poppy and me, and Rayna had asked Finn and me to pose for a picture. But instead of taking a pose, Finn had wrapped his arms around my waist, trapped me against his chest and tickled my ribs until I’d laughed so hard I cried.

Rayna had scolded him for nearly ruining my mascara. The photo she’d taken in that moment had become my favorite. It was us.

I’d framed it for Finn’s office when we’d started Alcott. While Finn had been in the hospital and I’d gone to Alcott, I’d wondered where that photo had gone.

It had been on his mantel the whole time.

“Here you go.” He came into the living room and set two frosty mugs on the coffee table.

I pointed to our picture. “How long have you had this here?”

“A while.”

“Define a while.”

He gave me a small smile. “Since I moved in.”

“The whole time?” I whispered.

“The whole time.”

“But . . .” My words died as my mind raced. He’d had this photo of us, just us, on his mantel for years. He’d kept it there when he could have put it in a drawer and hidden it away. He could have thrown it out. But he hadn’t. He’d left it out on display for the kids to see. For his parents and Poppy and Cole. For any visitor who’d come here. He’d left it on display, along with a family picture, for his girlfriends to see any time they came to his place. “Why?”

He sighed. “At first, I was trying to make this place a home for the kids. I thought having pictures of you and all four of us would make them feel like this was their home too.”

“That was six years ago. They’re plenty well-adjusted now.”

“I know. But I couldn’t take it down. Every time I tried, my hand didn’t have the strength to lift it off the mantel. I needed to see your face every day. I needed you here. In my house.”

Tears flooded my eyes. “We were divorced. You were dating other women.”

He stepped closer, his hands skimming up my cheeks, his fingers disappearing into my hair. “And you stayed on this pedestal the whole time. Now you know why I’ve been dumped consistently over the last six years.”

I laughed, dropping my gaze. Finn wasn’t the type of man who’d take pleasure in hurting those other women. Still. “You deserved to be dumped.”

“Yeah. I was the worst boyfriend ever.” His grin fell. “And husband.”

“No.” I pressed closer, my breasts brushing against his chest. “Not the worst. We just failed a test, but that doesn’t mean we haven’t learned.”

His free hand banded around my back, pulling me forward until I was flush against his torso. “Let’s try again, Molly. Please. I know we won’t fail a second time. I won’t let us.”

“On one condition.”

He held his breath. “What?”

“Kiss me.”

His lips came down on mine so fast, I gasped. Finn’s tongue dove inside, twirling against my own as his lips consumed mine.

I let out a moan, which was met by one of his. We were a mess of wet lips and grappling fingers and shuffling feet as we made our way down the hallway.

Finn walked me backward, his arm never once leaving my back. His hand was firmly tangled in my hair, holding my head at whichever angle suited his tongue best.

Patience had disappeared the second his lips touched mine. As I tugged at his shirt, we crashed into the wall, my hip ricocheting hard enough to tangle up my feet. Finn held tight, steadying me. But instead of continuing our walk, he pressed me against the wall.

One of his hands moved to my breast. The other moved from my hair down to my ass. He squeezed both, the bite of his fingertips sending a rush of pleasure to my center.

I was throbbing, aching for more. I met his darkened and hungry gaze then circled my hips forward, wanting to feel his erection beneath his jeans. It felt like years since we’d been together, not months. And tonight was more than sex.

This was the turning point.

Finn was claiming me. We both knew that after this, we’d never go back. We were all in, taking this journey together. Taking another chance on one another.

There would be people who’d call us reckless for getting together when we’d already tried once, crashed and epically burned. I didn’t care what people thought. No one knew about Finn and me. No one except us.

Finn pulled me away from the wall, his hand on my ass holding tight. The hand on my breast lifted so he could snake it around my back, then he rushed down the hall. At the doorway to his bedroom, we stumbled again, his shoulder smashing into the doorframe.

We were like a pinball, bouncing off every surface until we finally found the bed. We broke apart and I hopped onto the mattress, still bouncing as I ripped my shirt over my head. Finn kicked off his shoes and toed off his socks. He undid just enough buttons on his shirt to reach behind his head and pull it away.

By the time he was unzipping his jeans, I was naked but for my thong. The moment his eyes landed on the scrap of fabric, he let out a long curse that filled the room. “Fuck.”

“I’d love to.” I smirked. “Lose the pants.”