Finn sags against me, his breath silted and damp on my neck.
The world around us returns—the loud explosions on the screen, the reflective lights of the movie playing over Finn’s skin.
As if coming out of a deep sleep, Finn blinks at me, his lashes fluttering. And then his gaze clears, zeroing in on me with a force that makes my breath hitch. His lips barely move, his voice so low only I can hear it. “Bedroom. Now. Or I take you here.”
* * *
I move like water, rising up and flowing to my feet. My limbs don’t feel like my own anymore. Somehow he’s claimed them, and I’m left this throbbing mass of need. My nipples are so stiff they hurt. I need him to pinch them harder, put his mouth on them and suck…
Blood rushes in my ears, and distantly I hear myself saying goodnight to Glenn and Emily
Emily is asleep.
Glenn waves me off without looking back.
I know Finn is following. He’s coming for me. The knowledge is cool heat on my skin, a pulsing pressure between my legs. My thighs clench with each step.
I don’t make it far. The darkness of the hallway closes in, and then his warm hand is there, wrapping around my arm, pivoting me.
Silently, he presses me against the wall, one hand in my hair, the other cupping my chin. But he doesn’t kiss me. Not yet. Our breath mingles in rasping pants, as we stare at each other in the shadows. The line of his jaw bunches. I’d think he was angry if it wasn’t for the intense look in his eyes. As if he was hurting.
Need.
That’s what that is. Because I feel it too.
I lift my chin, nudging at his hand, leaning into his touch.
And he swallows hard. His thumb strokes the edge of my jaw. “Tell me again that I’m a bad bet. Because I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”
Barely a whisper, and yet a hard plea. Anticipation shimmers through my belly. “Prove it.”
All the tension leaves him with a breath, replaced by something more intent.
When he kisses me, it isn’t rough or impatient, it’s deep and consuming, as if he’s been given air after so much denial. Or maybe I’m the one who feels deprived, because that first touch ignites me. Nothing compares to kissing Finn Mannus. It is glorious, delicious. Perfect.
With a rough noise, he settles into the kiss, feeding me his tongue with easy glides, coaxing mine to play with his. And I do, tasting, taking. I draw in a quick breath, plunge in again, working for those rough, pained sounds he makes, as if he’s dying and only I can save him.
I’m so attuned to him at this moment, every rapid thud of his heart against his ribs reverberates through my body. My fingers curl into the loose fall of his shirt at his back. I’m shivering with heat, my lips swollen, my jaw aching.
As if he feels my need, his grip on my hair tightens. He takes my mouth with soft, nibbling kisses, deep explorations. All the while walking us toward his room.
Hands fumble behind me. He gets the door open, and then we are in the cool quiet of our bedroom. Standing in the center of it, I watch him close the door, pull his dirty shirt off and toss it to the side. Blue moonlight plays on his shifting muscles as he moves, I drink in the sight, my fingers clenching with the need to touch.
Finn’s eyes gleam as he reaches out and flicks a switch. The bedside lamps turn on, and he grins, a slow curl of his lips. The look in his eyes is predatory.
My belly does a little flip. “Afraid of the dark, are we?”
He takes a step farther into the room. He looks as undone as I feel. Hair mussed and eyes glazed. “Needed to see this in full color.”
We speak in hushed tones, as if neither of us want to break the quiet spell.
He stops close enough that I feel his warmth, see the way his pulse beats a rapid tattoo at the base of his throat. His lids lower in lazy perusal. Softly, he traces a line down my neck, sending little shivers in his wake. His finger hooks on the edge of my shirt and plucks it. “Take this off.”
It’s a low murmur that rubs like velvet on my skin.
Holding his gaze, I pull the shirt free. Cool air buffets my skin.
Finn’s breath hitches. He stares at me without blinking, his chest lightly lifting and falling. “That first night,” he rasps. “You were wearing a gold, silky top. I wanted to slip my hands under it, cup these perfect tits.”
The backs of his knuckles graze the side of my breast, and I twitch.
Finn makes a rough noise in his throat. “I knew they’d be so fucking pretty, Chess.” His thumb brushes over my nipple. “I wanted to suck these juicy nipples right there. Right there at the bar. Right through your little top.”
I sway a little.
Finn’s eyes meet mine. “Take the rest off. I want all of you.”
My hands go to the waste of my pants. “You too. Let me see you.”
Our eyes hold as he unbuttons his jeans and pushes them down with an impatient thrust. He’s naked before my pjs touch the floor. And then there is just us. And this Finn is just for me, his cock jutting out hard and long, a little pearl of need glistening at the tip. That big cock lifts a little, swaying under its own weight, as preens for me.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell him.
He grasps that beautiful dick in his hand, giving it a light stroke. “And you’re mine.”
I move to him, sliding my arms around his neck, melding my lips to his. He wraps me up in his warmth, his hard against my soft, his tongue dipping into my mouth for another taste.
Stumbling back, he takes me with him, his mouth never leaving mine. We’re on the cool bed. And he lays me down, kissing his way along my neck. Big hands glide over my skin like a dream, slow, soft.
I squirm as, he licks his way down my breast, seeking the tender bud of my nipple. All that time on the couch, he played with me there, working me up, getting me so sensitive, the slightest touch now is almost too much.