“What?” She wished she could be like Bonnie, casual and breezy. But she heard the catch in her voice and knew he did, too.
Finn continued past the bed until he stood on the other side of the couch with her. Placing the champagne on the table, hemoved to stand within reaching distance of her. “You look… perfect. Framed in the window. It’s hard to believe you’re real.”
She knew he was giving her the choice to close the distance or not. That amount of respect for her, of thought for her comfort, touched her more than anything else he could have done.
“Can we have the champagne here?” she asked. “On the couch?”
“Of course.” Happy to have some kind of instruction, he eagerly reached for the bottle. “Just let me… hold on now….” He struggled with the cork, his lips pressed together comically as he eased it out until it popped loudly, a plume of smoke escaping.
“Here.” Penelope grabbed the glasses quickly before any of the bubbly liquid could escape onto the carpeting.
“Now,” he said, filling one glass after the other, his eyes twinkling. “There we are.”
Realizing he’d been trying to make her laugh was almost as heartwarming.
She took a quick sip for courage, deciding she better make it two, then curled up on the couch, pulling her legs up under her. “The view is amazing,” she said appreciatively as he joined her. “And the room.” She started to turn her head towards the bed before thinking better of it, redirecting her gaze back to the couch and table.
She jumped as his hand settled onto her knee, and he withdrew it quickly.
“Penelope.”
There it was again. Whenever he said her full name in that soft, deep tone, it sent shivers down her spine that traveled to other areas she wasn’t ready to focus on.
“Nothing has to happen. If we sit here, holding hands, looking out at this view all night, I will be a happy man. I know this is all happening fast. I didn’t mean for you to feel pressured.”
Penelope breathed in and out deeply, staring at the hand now resting in his lap. She wanted to reach out and touch those long fingers, to lace them with her own, to take the comfort she knew he would offer, but she couldn’t quite make herself do it. She was going to have to share the rest of her truth. She needed him to understand both how hurt she’d been and how much of a fool. She didn’t know how to go forward without being honest. She was afraid to confess her inexperience, but more fearful of coming off the wrong way if she didn’t.
Her glance never wavering from his hand, as if she could draw from his strength, she told him in a quiet but steady voice everything she’d confessed to Bonnie about Carson. She tried not to feel the words, to spill them without emotion, while he sat quietly listening.
It was only when his fingers clenched tight, although he released them immediately, knowing she was watching, that she felt the tears on her face.
“I know I was an idiot,” she finished lamely. “I should have known better.”
“Known what?” he asked in a voice straining to remain calm.
“Huh?” Confused by the question, she finally looked up.
“Known what?” he asked again, holding her eyes.
Worn out from her admission, she could feel her emotions bubbling up, surprised that fear was at the top of them—fear that she had driven him away. “I don’t know what you’re asking.”
“What should you have known, Penelope?” His hand moved now, reaching out to touch her face, keeping her from turning away. “I want to be sure it’s the right thing… that you know that he was the fool, the asshole. That he did everything wrong. That none of it was you.”
She nodded into his palm, even as her eyes broke contact, closing.
“I’m not sure that you do.”
“I want to,” she admitted, the tears falling in earnest now.
“Then let me help convince you.” She felt the warmth of his breath before the touch of his lips on her cheeks, kissing away the tears. “You are beautiful,” he said between kisses. “You are priceless. You are so worth being loved.”
She wasn’t sure if she had initiated it or he had, but she was moving into his lap, where his arms encircled her, holding her close. It was definitely her lips that sought out his. It was her hands that moved under his shirt to feel more of him against her. It was as if saying it all out loud to him had finally washed the pain away. She wanted to move forward, leave Carson in the past, and see what a future with Finn could be.
Holding her shoulders gently in both hands, Finn pulled back. “We don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
She was surprised by the moan that escaped her as she turned her body, spreading her legs to sit on top of him. “I want this. I want you.”
His answer was to run his hands down her back, cupping her there and pulling her closer. “Thank God,” he whispered his desire into her ear.
