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T W E N T Y F I V E
- Maeve -
I had no idea what was going on. All I knew was that Finn’s tongue had triggered a chemical reaction in my body so strong I probably would’ve done anything he asked of me in that moment. So agreeing to stay the night? It was a no-brainer.
Even if all we did was lie on the couch like this, the weight of his body on mine, that was fine by me. Then again, there was something animal in his eyes, something hard. Like the rest of him.
He peeled himself away and stood up, inviting my eyes to sweep from the bulge in his jeans to his toned chest to his face.
I pushed my dress down like I hadn’t already shown him my most secret parts. “What?” I asked, feeling intimidated by the intensity of his expression. “Thinking about drawing me like one of your French girls?”
“Don’t tempt me,” he said, bending over to scoop me up.
I’ve been scooped, I thought. Holy shit. He didn’t even groan when he lifted me. Nor had he asked permission. He just scooped me. Like I was easy pickin’s.
“Let’s continue the tour,” he said, walking around the couch and heading for a cracked door across the room.
“The tour of your apartment?” I asked, linking my hands behind his head.
“That, too,” he said, kicking the door open with his foot.
The room was dark apart from the light pouring through the doorway…until Finn closed the door in poor Otis’s face. The dog barked once, whimpered, and then who knows? Maybe he sauntered off. Maybe he was listening at the door. I wasn’t worried about anything except getting my bearings, since all I could see was the glowing clock beside the bed.
Finn lowered me down beside it, our breathing strangely audible in the moment before he flicked the light on.
“Hi,” I said, admiring how handsome his face looked in the dim light before I scanned our surroundings. Unfortunately, the residual numbness in my legs made it hard for me to care about the details of the space, though I managed to clock a disorganized bookshelf and a long dresser with a mirror over it. “This is where you sleep, I take it?”
“Not tonight,” he said, his hands bunching the bottom of my dress.
I swallowed and lifted my arms, my body breaking out in goosebumps as cool air hit my stomach and back. “Don’t get too excited,” I said when his eyes dropped to my chest. “There’s not as much boob there as it looks like.”
He lifted his eyes. “You’re perfect.”
I bit my bottom lip and wondered how we got here. A half hour ago we were watching a movie, nothing but relaxed friendliness between us, and now we were… I don’t know what we were. All I knew was that I felt like putty in his hands, and it was thrilling and scary at the same time. Being on his turf. Playing by his rules. It was a rush.
And I could see that he wanted me. All of me. And I was afraid if I played coy, he might not take me, and I really, really wanted to be taken by him. I reached behind me and unhooked the clasp of my bra, aching for another kiss. His eyes dripped down me, his jaw clenching when he saw how my darkened nipples strained towards him. I’d never felt sexier in my life.
I dropped my eyes to his belt, and he read my mind, pulling the leather strap loose so the buckle came undone, the soft jingle as loud as a foghorn.
“Finn.”
“What?” he asked, pushing his pants and boxers down. He grabbed his cock and watched me as he stroked it slowly from base to tip in a way that seemed restrained. As if he were hesitant to unleash it. Then he pulled the drawer of his nightstand open and grabbed a condom.
“Let me,” I said, eager to touch him.
He handed me the foil wrapper, and my hands trembled as I ripped it open, my heart pounding so hard I wondered if he could hear it.
“We don’t have to do this,” he said as I reached for him.
I froze and met his gaze.
“If you don’t want to.”
“I do,” I said, searching his eyes. “Don’t you?”
“‘Want’ isn’t a strong enough word.”
I licked my lips as I grabbed him, rolling the condom on carefully. Not because I wanted to torture him, but because I found his girth intimidating.
