Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CATLIN

After saying good night to Finn, climbing out of the cab and walking up the church steps isn’t right. Walking away from him feels wrong.

When I sneak into the convent, I’m taken aback by my appearance in the mirror. My hair is a disheveled mess, and trails of mascara are smeared across my cheeks. I strip from my ruined dress, and I hop into the shower to clean the makeup and grass stains from me.

I put on a pair of cotton shorts and a white tank top before brushing the knots from my tangled hair. My reflection smiles back at me when my thoughts drift to Finn.

He loves me.

In the short time I’ve known Finn, he’s changed so much. Or maybe it’s just my perception of him that has. I’ve changed, too. He makes me question things I have blindly accepted my entire life. There’s a whole world that I’ve been denying myself; one that he is so eager to show me.

Why the hell am I sitting here?

Before the thought has left my head, I grab a hoodie from the closet and toss it over my tank top. Next, I throw on a pair of Converse and head out the door. Quickly scaling the wall around the courtyard, I slide down the bricks, which are slick from the light mist. Pulling the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, I shove my hands into my pockets and begin walking.

Two blocks from his apartment, the sky booms with thunder, and the light mist becomes a heavy downpour. Suddenly soaked to the core, I feel as though God is trying to give me a sign; I start second-guessing my decision.

You’ve come this far, Cat.

When I reach Finn’s building, I’m surprised at how quickly the doorman lets me in. I’ve only been here once, and it was only for a matter of minutes so Finn could grab something from his apartment.

My shoes squeak across the white marble tiles in the lobby as I make my way to the elevator. When the cab arrives, I step in and push the button for the top floor, trying to remember Finn’s apartment number. The elevator dings when I reach the eighteenth floor, and I hesitate so long to exit that the doors begin to close. Shoving my hand into the small gap, they push back open for me to step into the hall. Walking fast and fueled entirely with nervous energy, I make my way to his door and read the number, confirming it’s the right one.

What are you doing?

Water from my soaked hair trickles down my face, and my sodden clothes are dripping into a puddle around my feet. My fist thumps against his door, the rapping of my knuckles as fast and loud as the pounding of my heart. It’s nearly 2:00 a.m., and I’m going to rouse his neighbors, but I don’t care. This can’t wait, because I’m already beginning to lose my nerve as I wait for him to answer.

“I’m tired of pretending,” I blurt when Finn opens the door. He stares at me with wide eyes, no doubt questioning why I’m soaked and on his doorstep. Stepping into the open threshold and looking up at him, I take a deep breath and exhale, “I don’t want to be a good girl.”

“Cat?” He gazes at me in disbelief that I’m on his doorstep. “You’re soaked. Did you walk here in the rain?”

“Yes,” I mutter as he pulls me into the apartment and shuts the door. Water drips from me onto his hardwood floor, but I can’t pull my eyes off him. He’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs, leaving nearly all of him on display. The geometric ink covering his neck and arms covers every inch of his torso. My eyes roam down his pronounced pecs and over his rippled abs to the large bulge beneath the tight cotton of his boxers.

He’s hard.

“I told you; every night.” He smirks at my overt stare. “What are you doing here?”

Unable to think straight, I repeat, “I don’t want to be a good girl.”

Finn takes a step toward me and puts his fingers under my chin. Angling my face up to him, he shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that for me.”

“It’s not for you,” I correct him. “It’s for me.”

“Are you sure?” he presses, keeping the distance between us.

My heart pounds against my rib cage as I stare into his blue eyes. His concern and the adoring look in his eyes solidify my decision. I’m nervous as hell, but I have never been more sure of a decision in my entire life.

Placing my hands on his firm, bare chest, I step into him. He stands unwaveringly still, waiting for my response. I keep my eyes locked on his, and I pull my hands from him before slowly lowering the zipper of my hoodie. Slipping it from my shoulders, the heavy, drenched cotton plops to the floor.

“Cat.” Finn’s eyes trail down my body. My white tank top is soaked through, leaving my braless breasts on full display beneath the now sheer fabric. The adoring look in his eyes grows ravenous with every second. Finn’s hand slides along my hip and up my side, and my breath hitches when his fingers dust along the side of my heaving breast. My fingers dance over his chest as he traces along the cup of mine.

“Please,” I beg, wanting more of his touch. Needing to feel him on me. Wanting to experience everything that he wants to share with me. “I want to burn with you, Finn. Show me what your heaven is like.”