Page 155 of Player

Epilogue

Life with a woman who is inquisitive by nature, asks hard-hitting questions for a living, and has the keen knack for seeing past my malarkey isn’t easy for a fella like me.

But I’m up for the challenge, God help her.

“I can never show my face in Starbucks again. They think we’re insane.”

I roll her onto her back, and she moans as I sink back inside her. “Want me to stop?” I smirk, knowingly.

“Never.”

“So, you don’t want to cancel the delivery?”

She arches her hips, drawing me in deeper. I’ve fucked her six ways to Sunday over the course of three days. Surviving on love, her moaning me name, and Starbucks delivery service. The minx thinks it’s funny forcing a big bloke like me to subsist on foods like Chicken Caprese and Yogurt Parfait. Taking the piss, she is. “Putting those gift cards to work,” she says.

“They think we’re in love,” I correct.

“Finn.”

“I love you, Clarissa. And we’ll make this work, long-term-like.”

I still my movements, awaiting her response. Forgiveness is one thing. Committing to me for a lifetime, that’s another.

“Okay.”

My jaw drops. I’ve got to say, I expected more of a fight. And there’s a shiteload of things to work out. Like the boundaries that must be set for work, the secrecy Hayden demands be upheld, the logistics of where home will be, and how we’ll make it work even when we’re apart.

My colleagues seem to manage. That shyster Diego’s relationship is thriving. Jaxson and Kylie haven’t killed one another yet. Declan’s wan hasn’t left the cold-hearted killer. As for the bastard, Hayden? I’m still scratching me noggin’ over the huge motherfeckin’ secret he’s been keeping all these years. God help that woman, whoever she is. Because he’s coming for her ... whether she’s ready or not.

“We’ve a few things to discuss.”

She presses a finger to my mouth. “Not right now, we don’t,” is her urgent reply.

I grin. Greedy woman. But she’s got a point. I lift my hips then slowly sink forward. “Better?”

She shakes her head no.

No?“Christ on a bike.”

Got to say, confusion is written on my face because she bursts into a garbled mix of laughter and words. “You have.”Laughter.“A way.”More insanity.“With words.”Hysterical laughter.

Not bleeding now, when I’m at a loss for words.

As far as actions ... I lift my ass and drive back home, stealing the laugh from her lips. She loves it, and as I hasten the pace, so do I.

“Yes, Finn.”Moan.“Faster is better right now.”Grunt.“Hurry.”Sigh.“Before the delivery guy arrives.”

I rear up. “That’s what this is about?”

She winds her arms around my neck, cocks her head, and gives me this look that I feel straight in me bones. She’s mine. I’m hers. And right now, that’s all that matters. “Three minutes. Are you up for the challenge?”

Now, I might be a lot of things. Hitman. Occasional liar. Fighter. Player. A few wee times, a bleeding eegit. But what I’m not is a fella to pass on a challenge like this. “Two and a half,” I counter.

And then, it’s off to the races.

* * *