My lids flutter, wanting to close. I press my cheek agains the couch pillow, waiting, willing him to touch me. A gust of breath warms my hair, and then he slides his hand up. The warm weight of his hand over my breast feels so good, I gasp.

Finn’s body jerks, shoving against mine. But he palms my breast, rubbing in gentle circles. So good. Such a perfect tease. My breath grows shorter, my thighs trembling. In the dark, hidden beneath a blanket, he fondles me, lightly playing. The tip of his finger worries my nipple, toying with the stiff tip.

“I want to see you.” His finger skims over my nipple. “Suck you here.”

A light pinch. Luscious tension sparks down my belly, pooling in my sex like wet heat.

I can’t take it. Moving as if in a fog, I roll onto my back, my body resting in the circle of his arms. The action sends Finn’s hand skimming over my skin to my other breast. He palms it with possession, as our eyes meet. Neither of us speaks.

I want to kiss him. I want it so badly my lips are swollen with the need to feel his.

We can’t kiss. Not here. It would be too loud, they’d notice. And when I kiss Finn, I know I won’t stop there. When I kiss him, I want to consume him. I see that understanding reflected in his eyes. This is killing him, but he love it. He’s reveling in it.

Brows furrowed, gaze hooded, he fondles me, tugs my poor, achy nipple—teasing me.

It feels good to be teased, to let the anticipation build and simmer. But he’s getting away with it far too easily. Carefully, I ease onto my side and face him. He watches me move, a light of expectation in his eyes. Holding his gaze, I slide my hand under his shirt.

Finn’s tight belly flexes beneath my palm as if he’s ticklish. God, he’s warm, his body hard but his skin soft. I rub him there, enjoying his textures and the way he twitches as if he can’t decide whether to pull away or press in closer.

Closer wins out when he cants his hips and slides his thigh between mine.

With a happy sigh, I turn his way. My lips touch the smooth curve where his neck meets his shoulder. He smells delicious, clean like soap, spicy like sex and pheromones. The fragrance of Finn goes straight to my head and makes it light, while the rest of me becomes heavy and hot.

I lick that curve, and he grunts—a breath of sound. His grip on my breast tightens a fraction.

Smiling, I tug the button of his jeans, and they pop open. Finn goes utterly still. He’s fairly humming now, he’s so tight. Delicious. I want to eat him up.

My hand slides under the waistband of his boxer briefs. His cock rises to meet me, fever-hot, silky-smooth. He’s so hard he pulses. I give him a long, easy stroke.

Finn’s breath comes out in quick, light gusts. He’s shaking now, but he barely moves as I quietly jack his cock. Up and down, squeezing just a bit at the tip. Finn’s free arm snakes beneath me and gathers me closer.

We’re wound together, my face tucked in the warm hollow of his neck, my hand stroking his dick, as he plucks and toys with my nipple. He can’t do more. We can’t move too much without being noticed. The huge muscle of his thigh, notched between my legs flexes rhythmically in a maddening push-release against my clit.

Trembling, he rocks his hips, slowly fucking himself in my grasp. I run my thumb over his tip, tease the ridge of his wide head. The tremors increase. I don’t know who is shaking more now. I could come like this. But I want his release more. Straining against him, I find the sensitive skin at his neck and suckle it as my grip tightens on his dick.

The sound he makes is tortured, almost a whimper and then he jerks so hard, I nearly lose my grip. Wet heat spills over my fingers. We both shudder then, gasping as he works through his orgasm.

Finn sags against me, his breath silted and damp on my neck.

The world around us returns—the loud explosions on the screen, the reflective lights of the movie playing over Finn’s skin.

As if coming out of a deep sleep, Finn blinks at me, his lashes fluttering. And then his gaze clears, zeroing in on me with a force that makes my breath hitch. His lips barely move, his voice so low only I can hear it. “Bedroom. Now. Or I take you here.”

* * *

I move like water, rising up and flowing to my feet. My limbs don’t feel like my own anymore. Somehow he’s claimed them, and I’m left this throbbing mass of need. My nipples are so stiff they hurt. I need him to pinch them harder, put his mouth on them and suck…

Blood rushes in my ears, and distantly I hear myself saying goodnight to Glenn and Emily

Emily is asleep.

Glenn waves me off without looking back.

I know Finn is following. He’s coming for me. The knowledge is cool heat on my skin, a pulsing pressure between my legs. My thighs clench with each step.

I don’t make it far. The darkness of the hallway closes in, and then his warm hand is there, wrapping around my arm, pivoting me.

Silently, he presses me against the wall, one hand in my hair, the other cupping my chin. But he doesn’t kiss me. Not yet. Our breath mingles in rasping pants, as we stare at each other in the shadows. The line of his jaw bunches. I’d think he was angry if it wasn’t for the intense look in his eyes. As if he was hurting.

Need.

That’s what that is. Because I feel it too.

I lift my chin, nudging at his hand, leaning into his touch.

And he swallows hard. His thumb strokes the edge of my jaw. “Tell me again that I’m a bad bet. Because I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”

Barely a whisper, and yet a hard plea. Anticipation shimmers through my belly. “Prove it.”

All the tension leaves him with a breath, replaced by something more intent.

When he kisses me, it isn’t rough or impatient, it’s deep and consuming, as if he’s been given air after so much denial. Or maybe I’m the one who feels deprived, because that first touch ignites me. Nothing compares to kissing Finn Mannus. It is glorious, delicious. Perfect.

With a rough noise, he settles into the kiss, feeding me his tongue with easy glides, coaxing mine to play with his. And I do, tasting, taking. I draw in a quick breath, plunge in again, working for those rough, pained sounds he makes, as if he’s dying and only I can save him.

I’m so attuned to him at this moment, every rapid thud of his heart against his ribs reverberates through my body. My fingers curl into the loose fall of his shirt at his back. I’m shivering with heat, my lips swollen, my jaw aching.