Page 23 of Finn

The second Finn kicked the door shut behind us, I was on him.

I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and hauled him down to me, crushing my mouth against his like I'd been starving for it. Like I hadn't just spent the last hour kissing him under the stars. Like I would die if I didn't taste him right this second.

He made a sound low in his throat—surprise, hunger, need—and his hands found my hips, lifting me clean off the floor. I wrapped my legs around his waist on instinct, feeling the hard planes of his body press against every soft curve of mine.

"Bedroom," I gasped against his mouth.

"Working on it." His voice was rough, strained, like he was barely holding himself together. I loved that I could do that to him. This mountain of a man, this fierce protector, coming undone because of me.

He carried me down the hallway like I weighed nothing, his mouth never leaving mine, and when he finally lowered me onto his bed, I felt like I was coming home.

Finn stood over me, breathing hard, his dark eyes roaming over my body with an intensity that made my skin burn. The moonlight through the window carved shadows across his face,highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips, the raw want in his expression.

"You're so goddamn beautiful," he said, his voice barely more than a rasp. "Do you know that? Every time I look at you, I can't believe you're real."

My heart clenched. This wasn't the Shady Meadows Finn—all heat and urgency and desperate need. This was something deeper. Something that made my eyes sting.

"Show me," I whispered. "Show me how beautiful you think I am."

Something shifted in his expression. A promise. A vow.

He reached down and pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, and God, I would never get tired of looking at him. All that ink and muscle, the scars that told stories I was only beginning to learn, the dog tags that glinted in the low light. He was a work of art—brutal and beautiful and mine.

He came down over me, bracing himself on his forearms, and started at my forehead. A soft kiss, barely a brush of lips. Then my temple. My cheekbone. The corner of my mouth.

"I'm going to take my time with you tonight," he murmured against my skin. "I'm going to worship every inch of this body until you forget your own name."

A shiver ran through me. "Finn..."

"Shh." He kissed the hollow of my throat, lingering there to feel my pulse flutter beneath his lips. "Let me."

His hands found the hem of my shirt, and he peeled it off me slowly, reverently, like he was unwrapping something precious. When he unclasped my bra and let it fall away, he just... looked. Stared at me like I was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen.

"Perfect," he breathed. Then his mouth was on me, hot and wet, tracing a path from my collarbone to the swell of my breast. When his lips closed around my nipple, I arched off the bed with a gasp.

He took his time. Sweet Lord, did he take his time. Licking, sucking, teasing one breast while his calloused hand kneaded the other. My fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to me, desperate little sounds escaping my throat that I couldn't have stopped if I'd tried.

"That's it, baby," he murmured against my skin, and the vibration of his voice made me moan. "Let me hear you."

He kissed his way down my stomach, pausing to worship every curve, every dip, every imperfection I'd ever been self-conscious about. His tongue traced the line of my hip bone. His teeth grazed my navel. By the time his fingers hooked in the waistband of my jeans, I was writhing beneath him, mindless with need.

"Finn, please?—"

"Please what?" He looked up at me, those dark eyes glittering with wicked intent. "Tell me what you want."

"You. I want you. All of you."

"You have me." He unzipped my jeans and slid them down my legs, taking my panties with them. "But right now, I need to taste you. I've been thinking about it all night."

He settled between my thighs, his broad shoulders spreading me wide, and the first stroke of his tongue made me cry out. He groaned against me—actually groaned, like I was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted—and the sound vibrated through my core.

"Fuck, Chloe." His breath was hot against my slick flesh. "You're so wet for me."

"Only for you," I managed, my voice wrecked already. "Always for you."

He rewarded me with his mouth—licking, sucking, devouring. His tongue circled my clit with devastating precision, then dipped inside me, fucking me with slow, deliberate strokes that made my thighs shake. One thick finger joined his tongue,then two, curling to hit that spot that made stars explode behind my eyes.

"Finn!" My hips bucked against his face, chasing the pleasure, desperate for release. "Oh God, I'm—I can't?—"