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That’s the difference. That’s why I can turn the kiss around, become the aggressor, nip his bottom lip and revel in the pleased groan he releases. His hands tighten on my body, pulling me close. I’m a curvy woman. Not particularly slender. He makes me feel like I’m delicate. His hands roam my body with hunger and more than a little awe.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against my lips.
The words strike a chord inside me, like a pluck of the piano’s secret strings. I’ve been a help to my parents. A caregiver for my younger siblings. A friend to Leo.
But it’s been so long since I’ve been a lover to anyone.
Long enough that it feels new when he rubs me against his erection. The hard length presses into my stomach, and I gasp. My thighs press together, instinctive and seeking. It feels bigger than I remember a cock being, but then again, I only ever saw one.
He flips our positions, so that I’m the one leaning against the desk.
This way he towers over me. Strong hands set my hips onto the desk. Papers flutter to the ground around us. Nondisclosure agreements, probably. Power of Attorney documents. There must be a million paperwork remnants of their family curse.
Neither of us care about that in the moment.
Now I understand why he’s so desperate to experience everything.
I feel the same urgency when I spread my legs. It pulls the silk of my dress higher up my thighs. He glances down at me and groans. The fabric of my panties matches the dress. “It should be illegal, how incredible you look.”
A pleased blush steals over me. It’s nice to drive a man like this, someone experienced, someone almost jaded, to this kind of desperation. But it’s not enough. As long as he has words to charm me, I’m still not seeing the real him. The true Finn.
His caress steals up my bare thigh and around my hip. Along the sides of my body, almost ticklish if I weren’t already shaking with anticipation. Then his large palm cups my breast, and I let out a shaky breath. He holds the weight in his hand. His thumb brushes the tip. My nipple hardens through the fabric of the dress and my lace bra.
“Eva.”
I’m in such a dreamy state, I can barely focus. He has to say my name again before I force myself to concentrate. Of course he doesn’t make it easy. He still molds his hand to my breast, warm and sure and possessive. “What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice hazy.
“Did someone break your heart?”
I stiffen, but it doesn’t do anything to dampen my arousal. “Finn.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
A fist around my heart. That’s why he’s hesitating. My heart might already have been broken once. He doesn’t want to risk it. Specifically, he doesn’t want me to get the wrong idea about this encounter. He might kiss me and touch me. He might even fuck me, but it’s not going to change our relationship from fake to real. “You can’t hurt me.”
It’s a lie, but he doesn’t realize it. Or he can’t wait any longer.
He pulls the dress down, along with the lace, revealing my bare breast. My skin looks very pale in the dim light of the office, my nipple a dark red. “Someone should lock you up,” he mutters, still talking about how I’m illegal. It makes me smile, even in the midst of hurricane level passion, that he sounds almost annoyed that I’m sexy.
He presses a trail of feather-light kisses across my jaw. Down my neck. Across the cushion of my breast. His lips close over my nipple, and I suck in a breath at the heat. Arousal arcs through my body. It centers at my clit.
I want him inside me.
No, that would be too intimate.
My body doesn’t care. It wants everything.
I lean in and kiss the side of his neck.
He shudders as if it’s been a long time since anyone kissed him this way. Maybe it has. Maybe all the lovers he has in the city, and in all those fight clubs and in all those illegal poker rooms, haven’t been enough. I want him and not just Finn, the man who smiled at a poker table, but Finn, the man who comforts his father, the one who’s secretly running an empire, the one who hasn’t said a word to anyone except for nurses and doctors.
And now I’m one of them. That’s real enough.
I reach and fumble at his jacket. He helps me, shrugging it off. Then I go to work on the buttons of his dress shirt. My fingers feel useless under the onslaught of pleasure. He moves to my other breast, taking his time, tasting me as if I’m the finest wine.
I’m like the casino and the underground fight club, I realize. An experience he indulges in while he still can. He returns to my neck, and my head falls back. His mouth lingers on a place behind my ear, one that makes my breath catch. One that makes my thighs tighten around his lean hips. “Please,” I whimper, though I’m not sure what I’m asking for.
The truth is that even though he’s younger than me, he has more experience. Exactly like he told me. The truth is that I’ve had my heart broken. The truth is that I’m terrified that it’s going to happen again, and this time I’m not sure I would recover.
