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Sliding his hand up her body, he squeezed her breast as his tongue worked at her clit. She was almost there. Almost—
“Finn!”
She clamped her legs around his head and her fingers gripped the neck of his T-shirt. She pulled, her strength ripping the cotton fabric as spasms rocked through her body.
It didn’t matter that they were in full view of anyone who might walk through the door. It didn’t matter that this one night of fulfilled fantasies could change everything between them. They had left that behind the minute he picked up that spatula. Hell, the minute he’d spotted her onstage.
He carried her to bed, laying them both under the covers to snuggle for a few minutes as they recovered. Their time together was ticking by, and he needed to make sure he sneaked out before Cal got home from work. He glanced at his watch. They still had plenty of time for round two, three, maybe even five.
He drew her closer with a contented sigh. Holding on desperately to the fantasy that would turn into a distant memory the moment he walked out the door.
“Don’t fall asleep,” she whispered.
He moaned and nestled further into her neck. “I won’t.”
Chapter Seven
Veronica slowly came awake. She rolled over but didn’t end up on her back. Instead, she was cradled against something warm and hard. And she suddenly remembered.
Fi
nn O’Reilly.
In her bed.
Her body ached, in a good way—a just-been-fucked good way. A flutter danced in her stomach and a wave of heat rushed over her body at the memory of their encounter. Encounters.
She had been amazed. Exhilarated that his dominance was a complete turn-on. And have mercy, that spatula. She had expected pain upon contact but instead had been overwhelmed by a burning need to touch herself, for him to sate her urgent need for release. She’d never be able to look at a spatula again without sending a zing of pleasure straight to her clit. Good thing she didn’t actually cook.
Finn stirred, pulling her close to his body. His scent surrounded her, intoxicating her, pulling her under his spell, even though they hadn’t even spoken. The sun peeked inside her room through the tiny strip of window her horizontal blinds didn’t cover, and she wished she could turn around to admire him in the morning light.
She tensed. Wait a damn minute.
It was morning. And he was still here. Shit. Shit. Shit.
His hand slithered down her back to her hip and gripped, his skin warm against hers. “Morning,” he whispered against her ear.
She shivered and pressed her bottom backward against him. With one word, the man could make her melt. With one word he could make her forget her name. And she almost did…until she heard the toilet flush. The water rushed through the pipes in the wall behind them.
“Your heart is beating a mile a minute. What’s wrong?” he murmured.
“What’s wrong?” She craned her neck. “You fell asleep. It’s morning, and Cal is right out there.”
He tensed and lifted his head, cursing under his breath.
“Exactly.” How could he have forgotten? How could she have let him?
She wiggled out of his embrace and turned to face him. But in her maneuvering, the blanket fell away, revealing his very naked, very sexy body—the smooth line of his chest, his defined abs. She groaned. Why did he have to be so perfect?
But the movement of the blanket also brought the cool morning air. She cuddled up to him and swung her leg over his hip.
“You keep wiggling with your legs open like that and you’re going to get a stiff surprise.”
She smiled. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”
“Is that so? Well, I’m ready when—”
A heavy knock sounded on the door. “Veronica. Is there a reason why you undressed in the kitchen last night?” He opened the door. “The kitchen’s a—” Cal stood in the doorway, his jaw practically on the ground.
