Page 52 of Love Bound

Oh God.

He's asleep, his chest rising and falling so softly I’m not sure he's breathing.

I'm lying here watching him do the thing I can’t right now. A thought has wormed itself into my brain, denying my quest for sleep, boring a hole of insecurity. The fact that I had to control what went on in bed had thrilled me. But it left me confused, too.

Will I ever be able to just let go completely?

Is Devon right?

Am I that much of a control freak I can't enjoy life? Sex?

She said it kept me from love—that I was one not bound for love, but just working substitutes. That it’s why nothing ever works out between me and men. Devon said I just fuck them.

But I've never had an experience like this, so sudden, so hot, so right.

In the middle of my own sexual analysis, he shifts and a sharp intake of breath tells me he should have taken a painkiller.

He moves, agitated, and rises up partially. "Allison?" He peers at me, half-awake, his body on alert, tense with something unknown and unexpected: a woman in his bed.

"It’s me," I whisper, and still, he seems confused. "Claire."

Though he sighs and drops back into sleep, this begins a second worm of insecurity.

Chapter Fourteen

Finn

I haven’t slept with anyone since Allison died and we didn't sleep together the last month of her life. I want Claire to know this, to understand how special this is, she is, but it seems like a weird conversation to have first thing in the morning.

Especially after last night.

I'm just happy to lie here and watch her sleeping. Her skin is rosy and cool, and when I put my hand on her shoulder, it seems too cool. I pull the blanket up to her chin and she guides the edge of the comforter into a tuck underneath.

Last night, when she whispered, "Let go, Finn," a piece of me did. I let go of loving Allison on one plane of existence. She is gone, as Nic keeps reminding me. But I'm not. Letting go of the guilt of being alive when she is not, was what happened last night. At least in the moment.

I hate the fact that I'm thinking of Allison now. But I didn’t think of her once last night in the middle of lovemaking. And that's exactly what it was: lovemaking. I'm sure Claire thinks she fucked me. But I've been fucked and I've done the fucking. That wasn't a fuck.

This was something different. This was as close to love since . . .

I have to stop thinking of what happened.

Claire shifts again under the blankets and I give her a soft kiss on the forehead. Her eyes open, bright sparkly blue, and for just a moment I see a vulnerability there that breaks my heart. There's something she's afraid of. Then something happens and a little veil drops.

She blinks and rises on one elbow. "Good morning," she says and smiles. "Were you watching me sleep?"

"Yes."

She flops back on the bed. "Well, touché."

I have no idea what that means, so I tilt a little to kiss her.

"Oh no," she says, clapping a hand over her own mouth. "Dragon breath. I need to brush."

I call after her as she walks to the bathroom, "That's dragon's breath. Dragon's, possessive."

She's naked and her body is beautiful in the morning light. Lithe, strong, graceful, and her ass is high and tight with enough to grab.

Later, watching her from the kitchen window, working with Salty, coming in, blowing off her hands and finger combing that mane of blond hair as she talks and pours more coffee makes me feel both oddly settled and really aroused. What seemed like a mundane Monday morning, was anything but.