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Chapter forty-one

Foxx

“So you’re partially unemployed now, huh?” Finn asks.

“I guess… From OCC, at least.”

Finn stretches beside me, his voice still rough with sleep, mouth tugging up at one corner. “Don’t worry, Professor,” he says, sliding a hand across my stomach, fingers tracing idle patterns there. “I’ll keep you busy. Wouldn’t want your brain to go soft.”

A laugh rumbles in my chest. “Not much goes soft around you, baby.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s fucking criminal, actually. You should come with a warning label.”

He pats my chest twice. “I do. You just ignored it.”

I shake my head, hand brushing back through his curls, already hopelessly out of place. “You’re such a fucking brat.”

“Come on.” He nudges my thigh with his knee. “You love me bratty.”

“I love you always.”

I say it easily, my heart swelling with each beat. Because it’s true, and because I want him to hear it as often as it takes for him to believe it every single day.

“I love you, too.” And I’ll never get over hearing him say it either.

We lie there for a while, the lazy winter air outside, never touching us in our cocoon.

His skin is warm, his breath brushing the hollow of my throat.

The blankets are kicked halfway down the bed, one of his legs tossed over mine, and it feels so fucking good.

Being here, I’m so high on him that I feel a sense of confidence I’ve never felt with a partner.

Granted, my only relationship was Ryan, but I spent all of it proving my worth somehow, and yet Finn hasn’t once asked me to do that, subconsciously or not.

“What will you do with Thursday evenings now?” he asks, bringing my thoughts back.

“I can do whatever I want, and that feels really damn good.”

He tilts his head, curious. “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “See things. Travel. Not spend my summers working summer school. Let myself want things without apologizing for it.”

He looks up at me, baby blues gleaming. “You should. You absolutely should.”

I glance at him. “You don’t think it’s selfish?”

He shakes his head. “I think it’s probably the first truly unselfish thing you’ve done for yourself in years.”

I let that sit for a second before asking the one question that I’m dying to know the answer to. “Would you come on vacation with me during the summer?”

His mouth curves into a grin so big and so blinding, it feels like I’m looking out at the sunrise.

“I mean, I’m a really busy guy, I’d have to check my schedule.” He’s joking, or at least I hope he is.

I blink at him, needing to check. “You’d better be joking.”

I’m still watching him when the smile sneaks back onto his face. It’s full of mischievous promise and so damn irresistible. I know that look. I’m in trouble.

So I roll. Fast.

I flip him onto his back with one clean twist, straddling him before he can wriggle away. His laugh bursts out before I even touch him, hands already trying to push me off like he knows exactly what’s coming.

“Foxx—don’t you dare—”

“You have a schedule?” I say, already dragging my fingers down his sides. “Really? You?”

He’s gasping, laughing now, trying and failing to squirm away. “I’m very busy! I have…plans—” he cries through grunting laughs.

“You are such a menace,” I mutter, grinning as I tickle his ribs with merciless precision. “Say you’re coming with me.”

“Okay! Okay!” he wheezes, clutching at my arms, half laughing. “I’m coming! I’m coming!”

I slow, fingers resting on his stomach. “Words I love to hear you yell.”

He chuckles, and I lean down and kiss him once, hard and fast. When I pull back, his hands are still curled around my wrists, his eyes clear and open and full of something that settles me in a way nothing else ever has.

I can already picture it. Long drives, plane rides, shared headphones, coffee in cities neither of us know.

I picture him asleep in some unfamiliar bed in a town we don’t know the name of yet, my suitcase beside his, his mouth pressed to my shoulder as morning sun spills across the sheets.

Anywhere we decide to go, as long as it’s together, it’ll be special.

“You pick the place,” I say, rolling off him, but bringing him right back to my side. “Anywhere.”

“Okay.” He kisses my shoulder like a promise. “But just so you know, wherever we go, I’m not carrying the bags.”

“You’re absolutely carrying the bags.”

“You’re stronger.”

“You’re younger.”

“Exactly. Let me live.”

I laugh, deep in my chest, as he drapes an arm around my middle again, settling in. I feel his heart beating against my chest, my own seeking his rhythm.

“Hawaii,” he says. “I’ve never been, and I think it’s a good place to maybe try surfing again.”

That catches my attention. I know that wasn’t a throwaway comment. I watch the way the light slides across his face, and all I can think about is how much he’s grown since the day we met. Not just into someone who’s stronger, but also who lets me see him. “I’m proud of you.”

“For getting back in the water?”

“For not running from it anymore,” I say. “For wanting to make it yours. I think that’s brave as hell.”

The flush of color tells me everything I need to know about how he’s feeling. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“Hey, maybe you can teach me some more tricks?”

Then he shifts, rolling toward me with a slow, lazy grin, eyes gleaming. “You realize this means I get to boss you around, right?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that how it works?”

“I’ll be the instructor,” he says, smug as hell. “You’ll be my student.”

I snort. “You’ll lose focus the second I take my shirt off.”

He places a hand on my chest. “I’m a professional.”

“Uh huh,” I say, unconvinced. “You made me come in my office. So professional.”

“That was after hours. Besides, you let it happen,” he counters smoothly, then presses a finger to my lips. “As your surf teacher, I expect full focus, Mr. Jones.”

I bite his finger gently, just to see the flush rise in his cheeks.

“You gonna pace the beach looking all serious and in control?” And fuck, I like that thought more than I should.

The idea of letting him lead me— teach me—isn’t just hot.

It’s something else. Something I want to let him do.

I’ve been so used to control, to structure, to being the one with the plan, but with Finn?

I’ll follow him anywhere.