Page 29 of Primal
If I never see her hurt like this again, it’ll be a lifetime too soon.
“You’re it for me,piscín,” I whisper before placing a soft kiss against her lips and releasing her hands. “You can leave, but I won’t be able to let you go,” I confess, rolling off her.
“Finn…” My name cracks over her lips as we both stare up at the stars. “Do you love me?”
More than I have words to describe.
“Your name is carved across my heart.” I roll to face her and wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Do you love me,piscín?”
She closes her eyes, and her throat bobs as she takes a hard swallow before she gives a gentle nod. Cupping her tear-stained face, I pull her toward me and softly kiss her salty lips.
Helping her from the ground, I notice the grass stains on the back of her dress and that the strap tore when I tackled her. “Let me take you home.”
“The club? Don’t you need to go back?”
“No. I can’t bring you back there like this.” I fix her dress to ensure it’s covering her. “They’ll be fine without me while I take you home.”
Flagging down a taxi, we ride in silence with her nuzzled against me. As much as I want to take her back to my place and spend the night apologizing to her and professing my love, I know this is what she wants.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CATLIN
After saying good night to Finn, climbing out of the cab and walking up the church steps isn’t right. Walking away from him feels wrong.
When I sneak into the convent, I’m taken aback by my appearance in the mirror. My hair is a disheveled mess, and trails of mascara are smeared across my cheeks. I strip from my ruined dress, and I hop into the shower to clean the makeup and grass stains from me.
I put on a pair of cotton shorts and a white tank top before brushing the knots from my tangled hair. My reflection smiles back at me when my thoughts drift to Finn.
He loves me.
In the short time I’ve known Finn, he’s changed so much. Or maybe it’s just my perception of him that has. I’ve changed, too. He makes me question things I have blindly accepted my entire life. There’s a whole world that I’ve been denying myself; one that he is so eager to show me.
Why the hell am I sitting here?
Before the thought has left my head, I grab a hoodie from the closet and toss it over my tank top. Next, I throw on a pair of Converse and head out the door. Quickly scaling the wall around the courtyard, I slide down the bricks, which are slick from the light mist. Pulling the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, I shove my hands into my pockets and begin walking.
Two blocks from his apartment, the sky booms with thunder, and the light mist becomes a heavy downpour. Suddenly soaked to the core, I feel as though God is trying to give me a sign; I start second-guessing my decision.
You’ve come this far, Cat.
When I reach Finn’s building, I’m surprised at how quickly the doorman lets me in. I’ve only been here once, and it was only for a matter of minutes so Finn could grab something from his apartment.
My shoes squeak across the white marble tiles in the lobby as I make my way to the elevator. When the cab arrives, I step in and push the button for the top floor, trying to remember Finn’s apartment number. The elevator dings when I reach the eighteenth floor, and I hesitate so long to exit that the doors begin to close. Shoving my hand into the small gap, they push back open for me to step into the hall. Walking fast and fueled entirely with nervous energy, I make my way to his door and read the number, confirming it’s the right one.
What are you doing?
Water from my soaked hair trickles down my face, and my sodden clothes are dripping into a puddle around my feet. My fist thumps against his door, the rapping of my knuckles as fast and loud as the pounding of my heart. It’s nearly 2:00 a.m., andI’m going to rouse his neighbors, but I don’t care. This can’t wait, because I’m already beginning to lose my nerve as I wait for him to answer.
“I’m tired of pretending,” I blurt when Finn opens the door. He stares at me with wide eyes, no doubt questioning why I’m soakedandon his doorstep. Stepping into the open threshold and looking up at him, I take a deep breath and exhale, “I don’t want to be a good girl.”
“Cat?” He gazes at me in disbelief that I’m on his doorstep. “You’re soaked. Did you walk here in the rain?”
“Yes,” I mutter as he pulls me into the apartment and shuts the door. Water drips from me onto his hardwood floor, but I can’t pull my eyes off him. He’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs, leaving nearly all of him on display. The geometric ink covering his neck and arms covers every inch of his torso. My eyes roam down his pronounced pecs and over his rippled abs to the large bulge beneath the tight cotton of his boxers.
He’s hard.
“I told you; every night.” He smirks at my overt stare. “What are you doing here?”