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Good grief. An existential crisis was not exactly what she had expected to encounter this evening. Dinner. A little sex, maybe. Okay, a lot of sex. But definitely not a heart-to-heart.
She liked it. They had always been able to talk to each other growing up. Damn, she’d missed him these past years.
They steered away from the conversation long enough to finish making the cake. Their last task was pouring the batter into the clean pan he had rubbed all over with butter.
She loved watching him cook. So sure of himself. So confident that everything he touched was in his control. A shiver ran up her spine as her body shifted gears. Would he touch her in the same way? With the same confidence and control?
“You’ve got a little something—” He interrupted her sensual thoughts with a swipe of his finger against her cheek. It was covered with flour when he pulled his hand away.
She rubbed at her skin, but it only made him laugh. He pulled a tea towel off the oven handle and wiped her cheek. When he was satisfied, he grabbed her hand and gently wiped away her messy fingers with the rough fibers of the towel. His touch ignited a fire deep inside her. As he trailed his finger along her forearm, excitement built, sharp and tingly in her stomach.
More and more her lips parted, the longer he kept their bodies in contact. She swiped her tongue across her bottom lip. She tasted dry flour and saw desire clouding his eyes.
She placed her hand on his and stopped his motions. He dropped the towel, his hand immediately reaching for her cheek. She let her head fall into his palm and savored the warm feel of his skin. But there were so many other places she’d like his hand—both of his hands. And right now, they all ached for his touch.
She was no shrinking violet. She knew where she needed him and how she needed him. And she wasn’t going to waste one more minute on shy, conservative Veronica. She would channel June Beaver and take the reins. Finally! Satisfying her lifelong crush with some good hot sex with the object of her schoolgirl adoration was exactly what she needed. She’d spent too many years lusting after a man she’d thought she could never have. But tonight, she would make him beg to get into her pants. A small—and hopefully short-lived—victory, but she’d take it.
“Finn…you and I, we both need to break free of our ruts,” she murmured.
He tipped his head. “And you expect to find whatever we’re looking for in bed?”
She nodded. It was a start, anyway. “Yes, I do.” She stepped forward, backing him into the counter. “Did you feel like a mediator when I was grinding on your lap in the alley?”
The seriousness that had darkened his gaze instantly vanished, replaced by a glitter of desire. “Hell, no.”
“Stepping across the line felt good, didn’t it?”
Just as she had felt while she’d been up onstage before that. Something deep inside her had taken over. Something powerful and sexy. Something not plain, boring Veronica. Which was exactly what she’d needed.
“Break the rules with me, Finn,” she urged.
He needed the same thing. He needed to feel powerful, too. To have control over something in his life that wasn’t tied to his brothers. Or even the kids he mentored.
And yeah, she knew exactly where he would find that power and control.
“Let me make this real easy for you,” she whispered.
“Yeah?” His eyes turned darker still as he listened intently, hanging on her every word.
She swept away a strand of his hair from his forehead. “Being with me is the one place you don’t have to worry about an
yone else’s feelings. I give you complete control. In my bed. You can take what you want. You can do what you want, whenever you want.”
His knuckles burned white at the strength of his grip on the edge of the counter. She had definitely sparked his interest. Although, she was pretty certain she’d had it all along. But she had just sunk a three-pointer. The ball was now in his court.
He gulped down a breath. “Handing over control is an excellent seduction tactic.”
“Hmm. You have fantasies?” She leaned in closer, grazing her lips over his jawbone. “Well, I have fantasies, too.”
He twitched, and a clatter sounded behind him. His elbow had knocked over a cup and some utensils but he seemed unfazed by the racket. He reached back and his hand wrapped around a silicone spatula. Finally, he met her gaze. His eyes were now a deep navy.
Suddenly she tensed. This unfamiliar expression was unnerving. It nearly knocked her off her game.
So she called upon June Beaver. But from deep inside, a little voice chided her. She was still Veronica—boring, conservative, motherly Veronica. And what was sexy about that picture?
“Suddenly, I’m not hungry”—he held up the spatula and smiled, maintaining eye contact—“for food.” His voice was rough and hinted at exciting things to come.
“What—” She had to clear her throat. “What are you hungry for?”
