Page 88 of The Hot Shot

“Is that...?” My voice is a ghost in the dark.

But he hears it.

“Yes,” he says at my temple. “You get near him and he wants to say hello.”

Ducking my head, I smile into the pillow. The devil in me has me arching my back just a bit, pushing my ass into his hardness.

Finn grunts low in his throat. His hand spreads wide over my belly, holding me. So slow, it’s barely a movement, he rocks against me. The rest of our bodies lay still. Oh, but my heart beats like a mad thing, violently pumping within my breast.

Finn’s breath chuffs out as if he can’t quite control it. His lips rest on my hair. “God, you smell good. You always smell so fucking good.”

It’s such a low murmur, I barely hear it over the sounds of the movie.

“It’s the coconut oil I use on my skin,” I whisper back, pretending everything is casual, that my sex isn’t starting to throb and my breath isn’t growing light.

Finn breathes in deep and lets it out slowly. “It’s you. All you.”

A shudder wracks him, and he seems to go tight all over, as if he’s trying to hold on to his control. The hand at my belly is stroking now, small, leisurely explorations.

My breasts grow heavy, my nipples drawing tight. The screen grows blurry. I can’t think.

Finn’s hand slips beneath my shirt. His fingers are rough with calluses but featherlight against my skin. A ripple of pleasure dances over me, and I suck in a breath, silently urging him on. Up and down he traces, the edge of his thumb touching my belly button, the tip of a finger glancing along my waistband.

His hand moves higher, and the blunt end of his thumb grazes the bottom curve of my breast. We both freeze. The shudder that moves through Finn is almost violent. His thumb presses into my bare breast, and he shakes again, a near-silent groan leaving him.

My lids flutter, desire making everything heavy and hot. I press my cheek against the couch pillow, waiting, willing him to explore me. A gust of breath stirs my hair, and then his touch slides up. The warm weight of his hand over my breast feels so good, I gasp.

Finn’s body jerks, shoving against mine. As if in a dream, hepalms 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 blunt end of his finger worries my nipple, toying with the stiff tip.

When he talks, his voice is hot smoke along my neck. “I want to see you.” His finger skims back and forth. “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 in a fog of need, I roll onto my back, my body resting in the circle of his arms. The action sends Finn’s hand skimming over to my other breast. He kneads 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.

But we can’t kiss. Not here. It would be too loud, and 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 loves it. He’s reveling in it.

Gaze hooded, he fondles me, tugs my poor, achy nipple—teasing.

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 shifts his thigh between mine.

With a happy sigh, I lean into him. My lips touch the smoothcurve where his neck meets his shoulder. He smells delicious, clean like soap, and 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.