Chapter 32 Teased
KARA’S POV
Dad is the first one to tire. I notice it in the way his laughter slows, in how his hand rests a little longer on the armrest when he stands. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t announce it, but I see it anyway because I always do.
“Alright,” he says eventually, clearing his throat as he wraps the towel around his shoulders. “I think that’s enough excitement for one old man.”
“Dad,” I start, instinctively moving toward him.
He raises a hand, smiling. “I’m okay. Just… pleasantly exhausted.”
Manang Milda is already beside him, ever reliable. “Come, sir,” she says gently. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Dad turns to me before leaving, his eyes warm and full. “Thank you for today, Karaella and everyone! Thank you so much for coming."
I swallow. “Thank you for staying.”
He chuckles softly, then looks around at everyone. “Don’t stay up too late.”
Finnian nods. “Good night, sir.”
Dad pauses, then smiles at him knowingly. “Take care of her.”
Finnian answers without hesitation. “Always.”
My chest tightens.
As Dad walks away with Manang Milda, I watch his back until he disappears inside the house. Only then do I let out the breath I’ve been holding all evening.
“It’s strange,” Sancha says softly. “Seeing him this happy.”
“It’s beautiful,” I reply. “That’s all I wanted.”
“And you got it,” Louisse adds, smiling. “You did good, Kara.”
Someone passes me a glass.
“Well,” Sancha announces, lifting her drink, “it’s Saturday night.”
“And her last day of leave,” Louisse adds teasingly.
I groan. “Don’t remind me.”
Finnian clinks his glass lightly against mine. “To surviving the week.”
I smile. “To family.”
We drink. The night loosens us. Conversations overlap, laughter comes easier, and the weight I’ve been carrying for days finally slips from my shoulders. Music plays softly from someone’s phone, nothing loud, just enough to fill the pauses.
Louisse raises her hands when another drink is offered to her. “I’ll stick with juice.”
Sancha laughs. “Right, right. Pregnant lady rules.”
“I don’t mind,” Louisse says cheerfully, lifting her glass of orange juice. “I still want to be part of the chaos.”
“You’re glowing,” I tell her honestly.
She smiles, resting a hand on her stomach. “I feel happy. And full. Emotionally, not food-wise.”
“Yet,” Sancha teases. “Give it ten minutes.”
We all laugh. Finnian then leans back against the pool edge, one arm resting casually behind me. He doesn’t touch, not really, but the closeness is there, steady and warm.
“So,” Sancha says, eyeing me knowingly. “Back to the condo tomorrow?”
I nod. “Yeah. Reality waits.”
“Do you want it to?” Louisse asks gently.
I think about it for a second. “Not really. But I’m not running anymore.”
Finnian glances at me. “You don’t have to.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “That’s the difference.”
Another round of laughter breaks out when someone tells an embarrassing story about Dad from years ago, and I laugh too, freely this time, without fear tugging at the edges. The pool lights shimmer, glasses clink, and the night wraps around us like a promise instead of a goodbye. Tomorrow, I go back, but tonight, I stay.
The stories keep coming, each one pulling more laughter from us until my sides ache in the best way. Sancha and Louisse trade glances, their hands occasionally brushing their bellies in that absentminded way pregnant women do, like they're already sharing secrets with the lives inside. I watch them, feeling a quiet envy mixed with joy and envy for the simplicity of their happiness, joy that it's all unfolding here, under the stars and the soft glow of the pool.
Eventually, the yawns start creeping in. Louisse stretches first, her cheerful energy finally dipping.
"I think that's my cue," she says, standing with a little wince. "This bump is heavier than it looks."
Sancha nods, finishing her drink. "Me too. Early night for the mom-to-be."
They hug me goodbye, promising texts and meetups soon, and I walk them to the gate, the cool night air brushing my skin where the towel has slipped. Finnian stays by the pool, giving us space, but I feel his eyes on me the whole time.
When I come back, it's just us. The others have trickled out too, leaving empty glasses and the faint echo of music. He hasn't moved, still leaning against the edge, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the line of his chest, damp from the earlier swim.
"Finally," he says, voice low, a smile tugging at his lips.
I slide into the water beside him, the warmth enveloping me up to my shoulders. "Yeah. Quiet now."
He turns toward me, his arm draping over the edge again, fingers grazing my shoulder this time. It's light and deliberate.
"You look relaxed."
"I am." I tilt my head back, eyes closing for a second. "Thanks to you, all of you."
His fingers trace a slow path down my arm, under the water, sending a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the temperature.
"Dad's right. I got you."
I open my eyes, meeting his gaze. It's intense, the kind that makes my pulse quicken. He leans in, his breath warm against my ear.
"You've been holding back all night. Let go a little more."
Before I can respond, his hand cups the back of my neck, pulling me into a kiss. It's soft at first, lips brushing mine like he's testing, teasing. But then his tongue slips in, slow and sure, tasting of salt and the faint sweetness of his drink. I melt into it, my hands finding his chest, fingers curling into the wet fabric of his shirt.
He deepens the kiss, one hand sliding down my side, under the water to grip my hip. His thumb circles there, pressing just enough to make me arch toward him. I gasp into his mouth, and he chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against my lips.
"Finnian," I murmur, breaking away for air.
"Shh." His mouth moves to my jaw, then my neck, nipping lightly at the skin below my ear. His other hand joins the first, both now exploring, tracing the curve of my waist, up to the edge of my bikini top. He doesn't push it aside, just lets his fingers skim the underside, teasing the swell of my breast until my breath hitches.
I shift closer, legs brushing his under the water, feeling the hard line of him against my thigh. My hand drifts lower, palming him through his swim trunks, and he groans, low and rough, his hips bucking slightly into my touch.
"Kara," he breathes, voice strained.
His fingers dip lower too, slipping between my thighs, rubbing slow circles over the fabric covering me. It's electric, the pressure building with each stroke, making my core clench. I rock against his hand, chasing the friction, my nails digging into his shoulders.
He kisses me again, harder this time, tongue mimicking the rhythm of his fingers. Heat pools low in my belly, every nerve alight, but he pulls back just as I'm teetering on the edge, his hand stilling, mouth leaving mine with a final, and lingering suck on my lower lip.
"Not tonight," he whispers, eyes dark with want but steady. "Just this. Teasing you until you beg."
I whine in protest, but he just smiles, withdrawing his hands to rest them innocently on the pool edge.
"Go inside, get some rest. Tomorrow's a new start."
Frustrated and flushed, I climb out, wrapping the towel around me as he watches. The ache he left behind throbs, a promise for later. As I head toward the house, glancing back, he's still there, that teasing grin on his face. Tonight was perfect. Family, laughter, and now this spark.
I think reality can wait a little longer.