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"Damn."
"Damn what?"
"A little play fighting would lead to... interesting things," she said, sending me a saucy smile.
"We could finish eating, and then wrestle over who gets use of the remote control," I suggested.
"I do love a good compromise," she said, following me into the dining room, then sitting down in the chair closest to me. "Don't you have to go to work today?" she asked.
"No, I... shit," I grumbled, shaking my head. I never had to go into work unless there was an active case for me. "I have a meeting." Meeting the new team member, and all that.
"When's that?"
I didn't have a fucking clue.
"That's a good question," I said, reaching for my phone, finding the reason it had buzzed earlier. There was a text from Jules to all of us, reminding us of the meeting at seven. "Seven."
"At night? You guys keep strange work hours."
"Different timezones and such," I said, it being partly true.
"Oh, true. Well, we have plenty of time for, you know, calisthenics."
"It's important for heart health," I agreed.
"Keep looking at me like that, and we won't make it through breakfast."
"I don't exactly have any objections to that," I said, putting down my fork. "Actually, I think I might have an appetite for something else," I added, watching as realization crossed her face.
Before the heat could even spread to her eyes, I was out of my chair and kneeling beside hers, turning her to face me.
"Finn..." she said, shaking her head. "You don't..."
"But I want to," I told her, reaching for her hips, pulling her upward so I could pull down her pants and panties, then sliding between her thighs as she sat again.
It had been so long since I'd let myself want a woman, let alone have one. I was never going to get enough of her.
My tongue traced up her cleft, finding her clit, working it slowly, wanting to draw it out, make it last. I wanted to memorize every sigh, every catch of breath, the way her hands tightened on the back of my head, the way she cried out my name as she came.
"Wait, where are you going?" she asked after she came back down from her orgasm.
"Eat," I demanded, getting back into my seat, a little disappointed to lose the taste of her from my mouth as I picked up my fork. "We are going to need our energy."
"Oh," she said, beaming. "Right. Well, in that case," she said, digging into her food.
And when I say she rushed through her meal, I mean she was practically swallowing each bite whole, only managing to get it down by chasing it with coffee.
"Okay, that's enough fuel," she decided, jumping up, reaching through the window into the kitchen, grabbing another of the bags she'd brought in, producing a box of condoms, ripping it open, and pulling one out. About a second before she was climbing on top of me in my chair, her lips crashing into mine. Hard. Hungry. Demanding.
Her impatient hips attempted to grind down against me, sending the two of us flying backward, crashing hard against the ground.
There was a moment of shocked surprise before her hips did that roll that she needed so badly.
Ignoring the ache in my back from the chair tumble, I hooked a leg around her hips and rolled her onto her back, pressing her into the floor, reaching down to hook her legs around me, then sliding my hand up her shirt, yanking the cup of her bra out of the way, then grabbing her bare breast, letting out a groan as her nipple hardened against my palm.
Her own hands moved down, wiggling out of her pants and panties before throwing her weight until we were rolling again, this time with her coming out on top. Pushing up, she smiled down at me as she raised her arms above her head—a silent invitation.
With a smile on my lips—something I was finding there a hell of a lot more frequently than ever before when I was around her—I folded upward, removing her shirt, then her bra.
"What are you doing?" she asked, brows furrowing when I moved flat again.
"Enjoying the view," I told her, gaze roaming over her bare body. "Does this one have a meaning?" I asked, running a finger over the flower tattoo on the side of her thigh.
"Irises are my mom's favorite flower. Does this scar have an interesting story?" she asked in turn, sliding her hand under my shirt to trace over the smooth, aged skin of a scar on my lower hip.
"It's an ugly one," I said, the memory flashing across my mind. Being caught alone because my troop had disappeared around a building ahead of me. Getting a knife thrust into my body and pulled upward. Right before I pulled the knife away, and jammed it through his eye, and into his brain, killing him instantly. He'd barely been more of a kid. "No, forget it," she said, reading my troubled gaze. "I didn't ask," she added, leaning forward to press a kiss into my neck. "Don't go there. Be here," she said, voice soft, coaxing. "With me," she added, her tongue moving out to trace up my throat.
