Later, the lights are low, the sheets are cool against my skin, and the silence between us is thick enough to drown in.
We’ve brushed our teeth in the world’s fanciest bathroom, exchanged awkward goodnights like we weren’t tangled up in each other’s limbs just nights ago, and now, we’re lying in bed.
Together.
Finn doesn’t speak. He just slides in next to me, warm, massive, and freshly showered. He smells of expensive cologne, and his sexual energy rolls off him.
His scent curls into the space between us—minty and clean, fresh but masculine, and it’sdevastating.
I keep to my side. He keeps to his. But slowly, like the tide creeping up on unsuspecting sand, I feel him shift and his body finds mine.
His arm comes around my waist. His chest presses into my back. And—oh God—he’s hard.
He’s not doing anything with it yet. There’s no grinding. No suggestive talk. It’s just—there. Solid. Ready to take me on a second’s notice.
And I liked how he claimed me.
But now? He holds me like I’m precious, like I belong in the curve of his body. Like his whole world begins and ends with my back pressed to his chest.
I try to breathe. I try like hell to think of anything else to keep my mind off the electricity flowing between and the slickness that’s pooled between my legs.
But my pulse is a drumbeat because everywhere he touches me, I feel lit from the inside. My body is alive, and desire consumes me even though I clenched my thighs. My body betrays me in a thousand small ways.
I could move. I should move. But do I? Hell, no! Instead, I turn into him. My hips nestle into him, traitorous and slow. He makes a sound in the back of his throat—a quiet, strangled groan.
His nose brushes my hair. “Kate.”
He says my name like it’s a prayer.
“I know,” I whisper. “Don’t.”
“I’m not trying to start anything,” he says, voice rough. “Just... can’t help wanting to hold you.”
“God help me,” I breathe, “I don’t want you to stop.”
We stay like that. His body was tight against mine. His arm locks me to him like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. No moves. No pressure. Just heat and restraint and a promise neither of us dares speak aloud.
And somehow, I fall asleep like that—wrapped in the arms of a man I’m supposed to be pretending with and wishing to God it were real.
After breakfast, we fly straight to Maine on his jet—hischarteredjet. It still doesn’t feel real—none of it does. My body’s still vibrating from the concert, his offer, and the way the world is falling at my feet, and he’s built an entirely new world just for me, one filled with private jets and luxurious hotels.
But I’m from Pine Hollow, where dreams die a thousand deaths, and I tell myself this won’t last. I’m okay with that, it’s what I’m used to, but I never envisioned how my sudden popularity would change my life until we land.
15
KATE
I COULD GET USED TO THIS (AND THAT’S A PROBLEM)
“They’ll chaseyou down until they know your name…” Kate Riggs
We barely make it out of the terminal before the cameras find us.
They swarm like wasps—buzzing, blinding, shouting questions I don’t even understand. I hear my name—Finn’s. The wordweddingricochets more than once. I grip the handle of my suitcase like it’s a weapon, my eyes wide, as if I’m going into battle.
And I suppose I am, sort of. Cameras. Shouting. Flashbulbs. I wonder if these people have been waiting all night just for a glimpse of us, just to snap a photo they can sell.
Finn takes my hand before panic swallows me whole. He holds it tight, like I’m the most important thing in his world. I don’t know what to think of him—ofus—but I hold on anyway.
