“Hottest sex I’ve ever had,” I said, lifting my head slightly and catching his gaze. “Fast and rough, and pretty much perfect.” My ass ached where Finn had fucked me, and yeah, I liked it. Liked feeling where he’d been.
He pressed the barest trace of a kiss on the curve of my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I whispered back, my mouth tilting up into a smile. I rolled so I was facing him and leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. The shy smile he gave me was different from his normal cocky grin, and I got the feeling I’d like getting to know this softer side of my boyfriend.
Hewasmy boyfriend now, right?
In my current blissed-out state, I didn’t have the energy to second-guess myself. Instead I said, “Hey Finn, are we dating now?”
Apparently the cure for overthinking is afterglow. Who knew?
His smile widened. “Yeah.”
Warmth settled in my chest, and I reached out and pulled him close so I could kiss him some more. When he rolled onto his back, I sprawled across his chest and let my hands roam over his body, learning the shape of him. His mouth was soft and pliant against mine, and I could have kept kissing him for hours—except a loud crash from the kitchen had us jerking apart.
We stared at each other and then at the door. “Asshole,” I said and climbed out of bed. I took a minute to get dressed and Finn did the same. Then we went to check out the damage.
It was bad.
Asshole had pushed the cake board holding my castle off the counter and another one of the walls had shattered, so the floor was littered with chunks of gingerbread. The half-rolled fondant we’d abandoned was covered in smudged paw prints, and there were places where it looked like she’d licked it. I was pretty sure I saw the imprint of her ass in the center. The cat was nowhere to be seen, which was standard operating procedure for Asshole. She came, she saw, she broke shit—and then she vanished.
Finn took in the carnage and let out a low whistle. He picked up the cake board and set it on the counter. “Maybe we can save it,” he said doubtfully—right before another side wall caved in, leaving nothing but a crumbling mess.
“I guess I’m spending the day starting over,” I said and waited for the disappointment I’d normally feel over a catastrophe like this to hit.
But it didn’t.
Maybe it was because Finn chose that moment to wrap his arms around me from behind, and I was reminded that I had more interesting things than cake decorating to think about.
“So, hear me out,” he murmured, resting his chin on my collarbone. “Instead of spending the day working on a new entry, you enter this as it is and call it something poetic like Shattered Dreams, and we go back to bed and fool around some more while we wait for the snowplow.”
I hummed, pretending to weigh up my options, but really, the choice was an easy one. “If that’s your advice as a professional baker, who am I to argue?”
Finn grinned, and together we cleaned up the kitchen, put the remains of the castle back into the pantry, and went back to bed, where I spent the afternoon getting thoroughly plowed.
Afterward we fell into a satisfied sleep, still tangled up in each other, and when I woke, the soft, faded light of late afternoon filled the room. From outside, Asshole yowled and scratched at the bedroom door.
I sighed and propped myself up on my elbows as the cat’s meowing got louder and more demanding. “I guess we’re getting up,” I said, throwing the quilt aside and getting out of bed.
Finn let out a soft groan and sat up, and then he got up as well. I saw him smirk when I moved carefully as I tugged on my sweats. He had every right to be smug—he’d wrecked me in the best possible way.
Once we were both dressed, I opened the bedroom door. Asshole stalked into the room, paused, sniffed the air, and stalked right back out. I followed her to the laundry where she stared at me, at her empty food bowl, and then at me again. I took the hint and fed her.
The cat wasn’t the only one who was hungry. I’d worked up one heck of an appetite and Finn probably had too. When I went back out to the living area, he was making coffee, so I opened the walk-in and started pulling out ingredients. “You like pasta?” I asked over my shoulder.
“Ilovepasta,” Finn said.
“Good, because we’re having fettucine Alfredo,” I informed him, carrying what I needed over to the counter and hip-checking him out of the way. “Go sit down.”
Finn gave my ass a playful pat as he went, and it was such aboyfriendthing to do that I had to stop and catch my breath when it hit me anew that we were dating now.
Was this what winning the lottery felt like? Because Finn Kelly being my boyfriend honestly felt too good to be true.
Maybe it was.
I put the pasta on to cook and started to prepare the Alfredo, melting the butter, adding the garlic, cheese, and heavy cream, then mixing in the seasonings. And as the saucepans simmered and bubbled, so did my thoughts.
I’d asked Finn if we were dating and he’d said yes.
