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I can’t help the smile that tugs my lips. “I should get shot more often.”
She takes her time cleaning my mess. I feel spoiled in a way I don’t deserve, but I don’t tell her to stop. Instead, I savor the way she pets my abdomen, moving her way up my chest.
“Do the other women take care of you?” she asks.
“What other women?”
Her chestnut eyes observe mine. “I know you’ve slept with women before.”
“I have.”
“How many?”
“Does it matter?”
She screws her mouth. “Hundreds?”
I give her a ballpark. “More than ten. Less than thirty.”
She considers that, and I can see the wheels in her brain working. “That’s less than I thought.”
“I don’t lack opportunity,” I explain. “Just interest.”
She cocks her head. “Why’s that?”
“Anonymous sex doesn’t cut it for me. And in my line of work…I didn’t have the option to be anything but anonymous.”
I’m dancing around the truth a bit. It’s true—I don’t like one-night stands. But there’s more to it than that.
The strangers I took to bed weren’t Finley. Anything else didn’t satisfy.
Finley slides the washcloth up my chest. “Turn your head,” she says, so I do, and she cleans my neck. It’s almost embarrassing how hard I came, and I can’t help but chuckle at the ridiculousness of it.
“You did a number on me,” I tell her.
“In a good way?”
“Very good.”
She finishes by drawing the cloth downward. She cleans my softening cock, my balls, and her touch is so nurturing, I’m disappointed when she’s done.
“Tell me I’m the best,” she says suddenly. “Even if you don’t mean it. I want to hear it.”
I sit up and take her face in my hand. She leans into my touch like a cat, her eyes slipping closed, and I draw her close. “You’re the best,” I murmur against her lips. “I mean it.”
I close my lips over hers, and she sighs in my mouth. My baser urges are rising again. I want to rip her shirt from her body, pin her to the bed, and fuck her so hard that she never again doubts how much I need her. How much I want her.
But that’s not going to happen. Not tonight. I force myself to release her from my kiss. I will the embers making my blood boil to cool.
“Let’s go to sleep,” I tell her, and that’s the final word on that.
21
FINLEY
When I open my eyes again, dawn blue bleeds through the flower-printed blinds.
Archer is curled around me. He’s hearth warm, and when I snuggle in tighter, I feel those drum-tight muscles flat against my back. His arm is dead weight across my middle, and I’m comforted by the slow beat of his breath on the nape of my neck.
