Let Me (O'Brien Family, #2)(53)

“Finn, I start the path to my doctoral program in the fall. It’s a hard course, and the money I’ve saved will only cover minimal expenses―”

“I’m not asking you to pay rent, utilities, or even groceries. I’m only telling you I want you with me.” He adjusts his position. “Kill and Sofia lived together before they were married. Yeah, her mom and Teo didn’t like it, but it worked out for them.”

“But Sofia wasn’t completely dependent on Killian,” I remind him. “She worked and earned her own money. Finn, I won’t be able to do that.”

“I don’t care. I’ll take care of you.”

“I don’t want you to take care of me.” I don’t mean it the way it comes out, and the hurt registering in his face makes me instantly regret what I said. I press my hand against his chest. “You know what I mean, right? All this is too soon and a lot more than I’m ready for.”

“I’m not asking you to marry me,” he says.

“I know,” I respond, my quiet tone reflecting my disappointment. While I’m not ready for marriage, it would mean more if that’s what he was asking.

His hand glides along my curve of my waist, his voice lowering from the depth of his emotions. “Me asking you to move in was supposed to be a good thing― Show you that I’m serious about us, and prove you’re the only one I want to be with.”

“I know,” I tell him, unable to meet his eyes. “But I can’t.”

For a few long minutes, neither of us speaks. Our chests are touching, but he feels so far away. “Finn, don’t push me away,” I say when he withdraws.

He squares his jaw. “I’m not the one keeping us apart,” he answers.

His words just about kill me. My eyes sting, blurring my vision. But as tough as he is, I swear my tears are his kryptonite.

“Sol, don’t,” he says gathering me to him. “Look . . . I’m not trying to hurt you.”

He clutches me as I weep against his chest. I don’t mean to get so upset, and it’s not something I generally do around him. He’s my heaven on earth. But the fact that I am makes me realize exactly how much I’ve been holding in. “I’m living a fantasy with you,” I tell him.

“A sexual one?” he asks.

He’s trying to make me laugh, and he does, even as my tears finish falling. I meet his face, my smile soft yet somehow there because of him. “What I mean is, my life with you doesn’t feel real sometimes. It’s more like a dream, an escape to someplace better. We laugh, have fun, attend events and enjoy each other, you know?”

He nods, like he understands. “Yeah. It’s been real good. That’s why I’m asking you to live with me. I like what we have and want to keep it going.”

“But it’s not reality, Finn. At least my reality. It’s only a temporary reprieve from my problems.”

“You mean your mom,” he clarifies.

Catholic guilt is such a bitch. “Yes, my mom. I’ve ignored her to be with you. It’s not right, and I hate myself for subbing out time with her just to be happy.”

“You’ve had it rough. Is it such a bad thing to be happy? To want some joy after all the shit you’ve been through? I hope not,” he murmurs when I don’t answer. “Because that kind of happy―the kind I don’t have to fake is what I feel when I’m with you.”

“I feel it, too,” I tell him gently.

“Good,” he says. He lifts his hand to hold my face, his stare so intense I grow perfectly still. “Because I think we both damn well deserve it.”

I push up when his lips sweep over mine. The way he kisses me is so lazy, but so sexy, my body melts against his. He rolls on top of me, positioning his body so he can play with my breasts and so that his growing length can slide and harden against my thigh.

I adjust my legs beneath him, causing his penis to fall between them. He lifts off me, just enough to grin his thanks before diving back and attacking my mouth with increasing fervor. He knows he makes me hot. But at this moment, I want to return some of that heat.

Using slow tilts of my pelvis, I urge him onto his side, continuing to kiss him and allowing him to play. Does he know what he does to me? How drunk I get from the scent of his skin, his taste, his touch . . . how the thought of him when I’m alone is enough to cause my hands to wander?

Again, I rock my lower body, encouraging him onto his back and rolling on top of him. I doubt I’m the first girl to straddle him. But I want to be the one he begs not to stop. My fingernails trail down his skin to his ribs, causing him to jerk. I do it again, knowing I’m tickling him and making it a game.

He jumps again, snagging my wrist. I grin as I tug on his lip and pull away. “You don’t play nice,” he says, his eyelids heavy.

“No?” I ask, dragging my pelvis over his thick staff.

He growls, drawing out the sound. Between those throaty sounds and the way his erection builds with each pass of my hips, I’m having a hard time keeping quiet and staying focused.

His palms push against my chest, making me think he wants to be the one on top until they squeeze my breasts all the way down to tips. I whimper, involuntarily pressing harder against his thickening staff and adding to my pleasure.

Finn’s smile is so full of lust, I almost can’t take it. “You like this?” he asks, rolling my nipples and inciting another gasp. “Yeah, you do don’t you?”