“Not until you undress too.”

The firm set of his chin tells me he’s not going to let this go. With a sigh, I pull off my clothes, aware of his observation. It’s the way he watches that really gets to me, though. He clearly likes what he sees, but there’s a tenderness to his expression, as if he’s drinking me in, memorizing every line of my body, cherishing it, that makes my heart clench.

I shake off the feeling and stand by his side. “There. Now we can both go to sleep.”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he says.

I clear my throat but my voice is still raspy. “You’re beautiful too.”

He doesn’t seem to hear me but keeps gazing at my face as if I’m an answer to an old riddle. “How did I get so lucky finding you?”

“Must be your Irish blood.” I move to take his arm and help him up when Finn strikes.

He rolls over to pin me to the bed and the tip of his penis touches my opening, where it is slick and wanting. We both pause, staring at each other, our breath going a little erratic. I know he feels how wet I am. I give him a weak smile. “It’s a Finn related condition.”

The words are barely out of my mouth when he groans and pushes in swift and deep. We both groan then, my back arching, hips bearing down. A second’s pause and then he’s fucking me with steady but hard strokes.

I stop thinking. I move with him, my hands gliding over his firm muscles. He feels so good the way he fills me up, the way he works me. “We weren’t supposed to do this. You’re drunk.”

“Your fault.” He grunts. “You let me feel your pussy. Game over, babe.”

“You stuck your dick in my pussy.” I moan. “It’s your fault.”

Sweat rolls down his temple, and he swivels his hips in a way that hits all the right places. “If you want to get technical, I stuck my dick in after I felt—”

“Shut up, and fuck me, Mannus.”

A shudder goes through him and then he’s pounding me into the bed. So very good.

His lips graze my cheek. “I love this. I fucking love this.”

I do too. So much. Nothing is like being with Finn. I wrap my legs around his waist and nuzzle the damp hollow of his neck. He shudders when I lick him there, suck on his smooth skin. I want to bite him, clamp my teeth and let him ride me.

“Fuck, Chess. Tell me this is real. That you’re not going to get bored and have a threesome without me.”

The words take a second to sink it. But I rear back and glare up at him. “Finn!” I slap at his side to get his attention.

He pauses, deep inside me. I can feel the pulse of his dick and it almost distracts me. Almost. I give his shoulder a little shove. “You did not just say that.”

This is why we shouldn’t be having sex when he’s chatty Kathy dunk.

Gazing down at me, he grinds his base against my clit just once as if his body is independent from his mind, then he groans. “Sorry,” he manages. He blinks down at me and takes another breath. “That was stupid… I don’t think you… It’s just North’s wife fucked three other guys, and Dex’s girl is depressed. Jake thinks everything is crap, and Rolondo’s warning me about training camp woes…”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but his expression is aggrieved and distraught. My hand strokes his back. “What kind of crazy-sauce dinner was this?”

“An awful one,” he laments, slowly starting to move again. God, he knows how to fuck.

My lids flutter and I run my hand down to his firm butt.

“I got heartburn and wanted to go home to you,” he states. “But they kept talking about relations and giving me beers.”

I fight a snicker. And he grumbles some more, frowning at the memory.

“Poor baby,” I whisper, pulling him down for a kiss.

His mouth meets mine. It’s a bit sloppy but intense, as if he wants to devour me, and my pulse quickens, heat surging. I wiggle beneath him, and he starts thrusting again, hard, grunting pumps that feel so good, I whimper.

“Tell me we’ll try,” he demands inside of a kiss. “Tell me I won’t be crying in my macaroni.”

My lips twitch, but I cup his cheeks, and kiss him deep. “We’ll try. No crying in macaroni, Finn.”

“No,” he agrees. And then he’s all business, moving with skill and precision. I’m coming before I even know what hits me. My reaction sets Finn off.

I’m pretty sure he comes, but I’m too distracted by the second orgasm. It hits me so hard, I lose track of things. By the time I settle back on Earth, my throat is sore and I’ve called Finn a god several times over. I may have used other terms. I can’t remember.

Sweaty and panting next to me, he gives me a lazy, pleased look. “I’m glad we got that settled, Chester.” His lips brush over mine. “Hush now, your fuck master needs his rest.”

Right. I’d called him that. I’m too exhausted to do anything more than drape my limp arm over his slick chest and drift into a well-earned sleep.

 

* * *

 

Finn

 

* * *

 

Morning is not my friend. We have a dubious relationship at best; I get up early because I have to, not because I enjoy it. But right now? I feel like a truck ran over me in my sleep.

I blink, trying to clear my vision, and notice the slim form of Chess standing by the bed. She’s grinning down at me with an expression that’s a bit evil. “Good morning, starshine.”

Licking my dry lips, I manage to roll onto my back. “Do you think,” I rasp. “That we could both pretend I’m perfectly fine right now?”

Chess’s grinning mug hovers over me. “Now, why would we want to do that?”

I try to glare but my eye pulses, and I groan instead.

Chess smiles so wide, her cheeks puff up. She takes a step back, and only then do I notice the cup of steaming coffee in her hand.

“Please say that’s for me.”

“I don’t know. Can you sit up?”

With a grunt, I haul my sad ass up and slump against the headboard. The room tilts for a second, and I take a deep breath. “Coffee.”

Chess sits on the edge of the bed and hands me the cup. She is a goddess because the coffee is strong and black with exactly the right amount of sugar.