Now that he knew, he could see Tate in her - a little bit. He could see her in the color of her eyes and the sharpness of her chin. Just out of sight. Gone, but lingering. It was better that she wasn’t fully Tate. He and Tate would have never come to this. “It makes sense to me, too,” he said, leaning carefully forward to press a kiss against her temple when the angles were right.
Her hands on his skin were electric, and if they were already this far in then it didn’t make sense to stop. Or maybe that was just the heady mix of pheromones in the air saying that. But whatever. Finn slipped his hands up under her dress, eased it up over her head, and he said, “Yes.”
