Spin

Twenty-Three

[RORY]

I woke up to the smell of the sea breeze as it lazily drifted through the open balcony door and tickled the floor-length curtains. Seagulls were chirping and waves were crashing and I couldn't possibly think of a better alarm.

Stretching my arms as high and wide as I possibly could, I sat up, shutting my eyes and breathing in the Sicilian serenity. I hadn't a clue where my phone or my boyfriend was, only bothered by the latter.

I climbed out of bed, grabbing Finn's discarded t-shirt off the back of one of the lounge chairs. Perhaps in a normal setting I'd be a bit more subtle, but I couldn't be bothered with finding my underwear, fully appreciating the seclusion of our quiet, less-than-little villa on the coastline.

The tile was chilly against the bottoms of my bare feet as I made my way out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen. I smiled to myself, seeing that the back doors were also perched open, the refreshing bite in the morning air felt throughout the cozy home.

Though I was in desperate need of caffeine, I bypassed the espresso machine and made my way straight to the back patio. I walked up to the iron railing, unable to contain my happiness seeing a finally well-rested Finn swimming laps in the pool.

I leaned my elbows onto the railing, taking in the scene – the pool overlooking the rocks and ocean below, Dean Martin playing softly from Finn's phone on one of the chaises, the warm sun balancing out the chill in the fall air.

"Shark!"

Finn clearly heard me but wasn't too concerned, finishing his final few strokes before standing to his full height and shaking his head like a dog. He tugged his goggles off and tossed them to the side, squinting up at me.

"Well good morning, angel. 'Bout time."

"Shut up."

"Is there a towel up there?"

I glanced around quickly.

"No, let me grab you one."

"It's alright–"

I ignored him, jogging inside to find a clean towel. When I came back out, he was out of the pool and shivering like a little boy as I walked down the few steps to him.

I wasn't sure what was in the air in Italy but as I watched him drag the terry cloth fabric all over his body, the familiar need to be pressed against it returned. I was nearly positive in the three days we'd been in Sicily so far, we'd had more sex than the entirety of our relationship.

Finn smirked as he dried his hair, taking note of my lack of clothing.

"Hot shower sounds nice."

"Emphasis on hot," I hummed, wrapping my arms around his neck. His eyes dipped as the shirt rode up, leaving nothing to the imagination. "Mind if I join?"

"I'd mind if you didn't."

I shamelessly tossed his shirt onto the kitchen floor as he trailed behind me like a lost puppy, inspired by the show I was putting on and discarding his swim trunks somewhere along the way. Though the concept of a shower is to cleanse, there was nothing clean about what unfolded next.

Knowing Finn better than most, I purposely stepped into the shower and kept my back to him, letting the water cascade down the front of my body. I felt his warmth before he touched me, familiar calloused fingers sliding against the damp skin of my hips and making their way up.

"Who said you could touch?"

"Not in the mood for that game," his husky whisper tickled my neck as I shut my eyes, my body betraying me and melting against his. He massaged my chest aggressively. "Doesn't seem like you are either."