Page 10 of A Hard Fit (Falling Hard #2)

And Then

Rory’s lips were even softer than Finn had imagined. They sighed into the kiss and slid their long fingers into Finn’s hair like it was their sole purpose in life—like they’d been waiting to explore that territory since the minute they’d met.

Finn leaned Rory back against the counter, pressing their bodies together. His lips parted, and he was home. The kitchen vanished. The party disappeared. Finn’s house, his art, his obscene jack-o-lanterns, all gone.

There was only Rory.

The kiss went on and on, until he was dizzy and they had to break apart for air. He pulled in a deep breath, oxygen flooding his cells like the joy flooding his soul.

“Thank God,” Rory murmured, hands gentle but very present on the back of Finn’s neck.

“Thank God what?” Finn asked, brushing another kiss to Rory’s lips, his little kitchen a sparkling disco ball of euphoria around him.

“I mean”—Rory sucked in a small gasp of pleasure as Finn’s nose dragged along their jaw. Their fingers were back in Finn’s hair again—“thank God you like me back.”

“Are you serious?” Finn tried not to snort as he cocked an eyebrow at Rory. “Thank God you like me back!”

“What?” Rory laughed, thumb now leaving a trail of goosebumps as it stroked Finn’s neck. “I’ve sort of had a thing for you since the moment I saw you.”

Finn rocked back onto his heels. “You…what? Really? Rory, I—I’ve wanted you this whole time, too.”

Now it was Rory’s turn to be shocked. “You did? I thought maybe you liked Luka.”

Finn threw back his head with a bark of laughter. “That princess? Nah, he’s my best friend but you… Rory, you…” He kissed them again, his tongue urgent as it found its counterpart.

God, fuck, if he could do nothing but kiss Rory for the rest of his—

“Oh, sorry.” The words ripped them apart. Georgia stood in the doorway, an empty chip bowl in each hand. “I’m so sorry. I did not mean to interrupt…anything.”

“It’s fine.” Finn straightened his flight suit, aware he was desperately short of breath, and desperately aroused. “Sorry.” Well, not that sorry.

Rory cleared their throat and smoothed their hair.

“Oh, don’t be sorry.” Georgia set her bowls on the counter. “It's just a little quieter in here, is all.”

Suddenly Finn was very aware of the sound of Morgan pretending he was Freddie Mercury, voice rattling the windows at the top of his register. Apparently, the karaoke had started. Finn cringed. “This is quieter ?”

Georgia chuckled as she refilled the chips. “I’m afraid so. I think he’s almost done, though.” She collected the bowls with a sheepish grin. “I’ll get out of your way.”

Finn meant to reassure her that it was fine, but she was gone before he could get the words out. He stared at Rory again. Fuck, they looked so hot, lips pink and swollen, tongue darting out to moisten them. Finn took hold of Rory’s hips.

“We should probably join the party,” Rory said, seeking Finn’s lips again.

“Why did I agree to host a party?” Finn muttered, eyes closed. “So stupid.”

“At least it got us here,” Rory murmured in reply before their tongues touched.

Finn’s hands slipped down Rory’s waist and gripped their neat little backside. “I’m kicking out every last one of them right this minute.”

Rory laughed. “You can’t do that.”

Finn sighed, pulling Rory closer, inhaling their scent like it was the only thing he needed to survive. “All right, fine. But, then…” Another kiss, searing and urgent.

“Yes,” Rory whispered, sending more goosebumps rippling over Finn’s skin. “Then.”

With great difficulty—more difficulty than he had ever experienced doing anything in his life—he let go of Rory and got back to restocking the veggie platter. The noise coming from the living room had lessened, and the soft, pleasant sound of Georgia singing drifted in as they chopped and stacked the veggies in brightly colored piles.

But everything was different now. Now Finn’s soul was singing. Now he was floating ten feet off the ground. Now he could take Rory’s hand and kiss them if he wanted. And he did. So he did.

“Mmmm,” Rory moaned, jar of ranch dip in their hand forgotten as they returned the kiss. “By the way, you look so fucking hot in your costume, Maverick.” Rory tilted their lips up to his, impossibly tantalizing.

“You have no idea how sexy you are in yours, Goose,” Finn replied, stealing yet another kiss.

The oven dinged.

“Leave us alone,” Finn murmured, holding Rory tight.

“Come on, the pigs are all toasty in their blankets,” Rory said, giving Finn a gentle push toward the oven.

Finn sighed. “Right. Food.” He dumped the sausages onto a plate and followed Rory with the veggies out to the snack table.

They set down the refreshed food and were collecting a few stray napkins and candy wrappers when Finn saw who was singing now.

“Oh my God.” He grinned. Rory turned to look. Luka and Thomas were performing a duet of Summer Nights from Grease.

“Aw, look at them! So cute!” Rory said.

“So fucking cute.” Finn shook his head, watching them all blushy and unable to hold prolonged eye contact. He hoped he hadn’t been that obvious around Rory. Then again, what did it matter now?

Morgan stomped by like a drunken storm cloud. “You’re out of ice,” he snapped at Finn on his way to the bar.

Finn bit back a retort and instead looked at Rory. “Help me grab a few bags from the garage?”

Rory nodded and followed Finn back into the kitchen and through the door into the garage.

Finn paused before he turned the light on. “Don’t judge me.”

Just about every painting Finn had ever done was in the garage. Even his work as a kid that his grandma insisted on keeping was there, clumsy and unskilled but fiercely passionate. Finn couldn’t bear to throw them away now. Dust covers turned most of them into rectangular ghosts, leaning in piles against the walls, wedged next to broken easels and blank canvases still wrapped in paper, plus boxes of brushes and paint, and some of his grandma’s belongings he hadn’t been able to part with. Plus, of course, his weight bench and treadmill in one corner. There wasn’t room for even a toy car in this garage.

Rory took it in politely. “Wow,” they said, running a hand along a painting entitled Fear that Finn had jammed in there right before the party, losing his nerve to leave it hanging in the living room. “Look what you’ve made.”

“A fucking mess? Yeah, I know. I just don't know what to do with all of them.”

“No, not a mess.” Rory drew lines in the air. “A gallery.”

Finn snorted. “You haven’t been to many galleries.”

“You could fill one, I mean. With all of this.”

“Nah.” Finn yanked open the door of the deep freeze. “I already tried that. I didn’t sell a thing and the gallery director made me pay for the custodial crew after my opening. Here.” He handed Rory a bag of ice and took another two more for himself. “We’d better get back in there before Morgan files a complaint with HR.”

Rory ignored him. “What is this one called? It’s…got an ache to it.”

“Uh… Fear .”

Rory studied him a moment before swinging back to examine the painting again, bag of ice forgotten. A figure was curled in one corner of the canvas, surrounded by dark, oppressive shapes. “What are you afraid of?”

“Morgan singing another song.” Finn offered his hand to Rory, smiling. “Come on.”

“All right.” Rory took Finn’s hand. “I’ll let you change the subject for now…if you’ll sing a song with me.”

“I cannot sing. Like, at all.”

“Don’t care. I want to sing with you, Maverick.” Rory waited, but when an answer didn’t come, their eyes turned back to the canvas. “So, Fear , huh?”

“Damn it,” Finn grumbled. “Fine. I’ll sing with you.”

He was somewhat mollified when Rory beamed and kissed him on the cheek. “Yay! Let’s go before the ice melts.”

The accountants were singing Ghostbusters when they went back inside to dump their ice in the drink tubs.

“There’s Luka and Thomas,” Finn said, nodding at them over in the hall by the bathroom. “Let’s go say hi.” He wanted to see Luka’s reaction when he took Rory’s hand.

As they approached, Finn noticed that Morgan was there too, slumped against Thomas, face green and fake mustache gone. “Everything all right?” Finn asked. Morgan did not look all right.

“Morgan needs to go home,” Thomas grumbled. “I can take him, make sure he gets there okay.”

Finn’s concern for Morgan was tempered by the sparks sent along his arm when Rory’s hand brushed against his.

“That’s nice of you,” Luka said, although he clearly didn't mean it.

Morgan groaned again.

Don’t you dare puke on my carpet was Finn’s main thought.

“Do you have a plastic bag or two we can take with us?” Thomas asked Finn.

Finn rushed to the kitchen and came back with a handful of grocery bags and two bottles of water. “Here. Make him drink these before he passes out.”

“Thanks.” Thomas collected the items and hefted Morgan upright. “Well…” He looked at Luka. “I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

“Yeah.”

The disappointment on Luka’s face was clear. Finn felt bad for his friend, especially when his own heart was soaring.

Morgan’s cheeks bulged. “Air,” he burbled, lurching toward the front door.

“Have a good night,” Thomas mumbled, then they left.

Luka stared at the door, bereft.

“Sorry, man. That sucks,” Finn said.

Luka forced a smile onto his face. “Yeah. But…” He looked at Finn and Rory’s fingers now laced together and the smile shifted into a genuine one. “Let’s enjoy the party.”

“Has she lost that loving feeling?” Rory asked Finn, nodding toward the microphone.

“Fuck, no. That song’s too sad. I have a better idea.” Finn pulled Rory over to the karaoke machine, the touch lingering as they flipped through the song choices.

“Something to keep in mind,” Finn said, pointing at his suggestion and leaning over to whisper in Rory’s ear. “As bad as I am at singing?” He dropped his voice even lower. “That’s how good I am in bed.”

Rory giggled, a blush spreading over their cheeks. “God, I hope you’re awful at singing.”

Finn raised a confident eyebrow at them. “You’re about to find out.”

Luckily for Rory, they sang—or “sang,” in Finn’s case— You’re the One That I Want , Danny and Sandy’s happy ending song, and Finn was indeed truly terrible.

Luka was more his usual self as the night went on, insisting that Finn’s singing was not that bad—“When you actually hit the note, your tone is not the worst I’ve ever heard,” he said— and complimenting Georgia on her delicious purple Jell-O shots. And he sang. Oh, did he ever. Finn had never heard Luka sing so much. Usually, he had to be coaxed to do even one song for Finn, but he had clearly found a comfort zone at the party. He even busted out some of Britney’s choreo to Toxic , at which point Finn started sending Luka Britney GIFs, snickering into Rory’s shoulder, completely and perfectly content.

But when Finn closed the door behind the last person to leave, the click was a cannon, a thunderbolt, a gong announcing a profound shift. He turned. Rory was watching.

“Hi,” they said, smile knowing and vulnerable all at once.

“Hi,” Finn said.

Finn wasn’t sure if he moved first or Rory did, then they were one, lips devouring, desperate and hungry.

“Rory,” Finn panted when they paused for air, foreheads touching.

“Yeah?” Rory replied, nimble fingers making quick work of Finn’s costume zipper.

“I just…”

Rory slid their hands inside his suit, around his waist and up his back and Finn lost the ability to form words. He shrugged his arms out of the sleeves and wound them around Rory, pulling them tight to his body. The kiss heated, erupted and roared white hot behind Finn’s eyes. Then they were moving toward Finn’s bedroom, Rory stumbling backward, Finn holding them up with strong hands around their small waist.

They banged through the bedroom door and Rory peeled their own flight suit off, revealing a tight white tank top and underwear.

“God, you’re sexy,” Finn muttered, eyes drinking in the sight, hands reaching, lips searching. Finn pressed them to Rory’s neck, dragging along their jaw to their lips, then they fell onto the bed, limbs winding.

“Finn,” Rory moaned as their hips rocked together. “Please…”

Finn paused, pushed the hair off Rory’s forehead, stared deep into their liquid eyes. “Yeah?” He couldn’t tell if the pounding in his chest was his heartbeat or Rory’s.

“I’m yours, Finn. Take me,” Rory whispered.

So he did.

* * * *

A while later, they lay together spent, naked and sweaty, limbs liquid, a river of contentment under the blankets.

Rory propped themselves up on an elbow and twisted one of Finn’s curls around a finger. “The number of times I’ve thought about doing this…” they murmured.

Finn closed his eyes. “Do it some more, please.”

Rory smiled, pushing their long fingers through Finn’s locks, leaving a trail of goosebumps across Finn’s scalp. “Your hair is a wonder,” Rory said. “You don’t know how beautiful it is.”

Finn’s heart was near bursting. “This feels amazing,” he murmured.

Rory leaned forward and kissed his nose. “I’ll run my fingers through your hair all fucking day if you want, Finn.”

Finn reached up to brush his thumb along Rory’s cheek, then kissed them again. This kiss was slower, gentler, the kind that went with the delicate teasing of ginger curls, twirled around long, clever fingers. They fell asleep, and the night drifted away.

* * * *

“What are you up to today?” Rory asked. The sun was doing its best to poke through Finn’s thick bedroom drapes, but with Rory still tucked firmly against his side, Finn had no desire to acknowledge its existence.

“Today?” Finn frowned in fake concentration. “Let me think. Busy day. First, I was planning to hold you for a while.” He lifted Rory’s hand and kissed their knuckles. “Second, fuck you into the mattress again.” The skin of Rory’s inner wrist was soft against his lips. “Then we could shower. I am an excellent back scrubber.” He kissed Rory’s palm. “I’ll make you breakfast and tell you how amazing you are for a while, then maybe I’ll fuck you again.” He blinked innocently. “Why, what do you have planned?”

Rory’s sigh was the sound of angel wings fluttering, like the ones tattooed on their collarbone. “That. Exactly that.”

* * * *

At some point in the middle of those plans, they were back in bed. Finn traced a finger along the vines on Rory’s arm. “What are the letters?” he asked.

“My family’s initials,” they said. “My dad, Jonathan. My mom, Lainey. My brothers, Jackson and Griffin, my sister, Bailey.” That letter was thicker than the rest, and a little swirlier, like another letter had been covered up. “And then Jackson’s wife Amy, plus Minnie and their baby Fiona.”

“And what’s this?” Finn leaned down to kiss the script on Rory’s ribcage. “‘Let it out and let it in’?”

Rory smiled down at Finn, whose nose was traveling toward their hip, leaving kisses along the way. Rory rolled onto their back, sliding their fingers into Finn’s curls. “Just breathe,” they whispered. “Just breathe.”

* * * *

“You play the guitar?” Rory asked, eyeing Finn’s Gibson sitting on a stand in the corner of the living room. They were on the couch, after Rory insisted on helping clean up from the party, eating leftover candy.

“Not really,” Finn replied. “I only know a handful of chords. I just mess around, really. You should hear Luka, though. He’s incredible.”

Rory got up and retrieved the guitar, bringing it back to Finn with a plaintive smile. “Will you play me something? Please?”

Finn already knew he was going to have trouble ever saying no to that face. “I guess, if you want to hear me scratch a few things out.”

“I do.” Rory handed it over with a kiss.

Finn strummed a couple of his easier favorites— Have You Ever Seen the Rain? and Love Me Do —then let his fingers wander. Rory watched it all with a soft smile on their face.

F major seven, F seven, B flat… The last chord hung in the air as Finn realized what phrase he’d been playing. “ Let it out and let it in.”

“You’re amazing.” Rory said it like it was an undisputed fact.

“Nah.” Finn flushed. “Like I said, I just mess around.”

Rory took the guitar away and climbed into Finn’s lap in its spot. “I mean you are amazing, Finn. You.” Their lips brushed over Finn’s brow, then his cheek, then found his lips.

Finn slid his hands over Rory’s back and held them close. “Was there anything else you wanted me to do for you today?” he murmured.

“Yeah.” Rory’s hips rocked in a lazy circle. “I can think of a few things.”

* * * *

“Don’t go.”

Rory laughed. “I have to, Finn.”

“You can borrow my clothes!” They were standing on his front step, his hands wrapped around Rory’s waist.

Rory raised an eyebrow at Finn’s tall, broad frame. “Oh? Do you have any from when you were fourteen?”

“I have a sewing machine. I’ll take them in.”

“You have a sewing machine?”

“It was my grandma’s. I’m not bad at hemming.”

Rory leaned forward to peck his nose. “I’ll miss you, too. But I need my laptop and stuff for work, and we’ll be at the office together all day tomorrow.”

Finn groaned. “One more kiss then.”

“One more now. The rest later,” Rory promised.

Finn watched Rory climb into their car, and stayed on the step until it disappeared around a corner. He went back inside and shut the door behind him. The smile on his face put the fucking sun to shame.