“You’ll ruin your bed if you get in like that,” he whispered, coming to a stop inches from me. He reached out a hand and tugged the front zipper of my coveralls, dragging it down so slowly the breath caught in my chest. I don’t know how he made stripping me of baggy painting clothes into something sensual, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. This was Finn, after all – he could make just about anything sexy.
Except Crocs.No onecan make Crocs sexy.
When the zipper reached the end of its downward journey, Finn lifted his hands and pushed the material from my shoulders. It slid off quickly, pooling around my feet in a white and blue-splattered cloud and leaving me in only my tank top and shorts.
“Step out,” he murmured, taking one of my hands in each of his andguiding me toward him. My heart fluttered in my chest and I felt a swarm of butterflies explode into flight in my stomach. Staring up into his dark eyes, my hands found their way up to rest on his broad shoulders.
His eyeswere hooded, and I immediately saw the desire that swirled in their depths. My hands slid from his shoulders around to the front of his coveralls, the residual paint on them leaving blue streaks in their wake. When my fingers found the zipper, they trembled.
Finnleaned down slowly and pressed a kiss to the hollow of my throat. My hands began to move, drifting downward and dragging the zipper along with them. As my fingers traced slowly down across his stomach, I felt the muscles there contract and an involuntary puff of air slipped out from between his lips.
When there was no more tread left in the zipper, I slid my hands lightly back up to his shoulders, taking my time to graze each taut muscle of his abs and chest as I went. His head lifted from the crook of my neck and he started down into my eyes as I gently shoved the material of his coveralls off his shoulders. His eyes darkened even further, the cobalt irises nearly disappearing into the black of his pupils.
The material dropped around his feet, revealing a tight black v-neck and faded gray jeans that looked like they’d been washed a million times and fit him like a dream. He was utterly still, watching me. Waiting to see what I’d do next.
“Step out,” I whispered, echoing his earlier command.
At my words, he took one stride forward and was on me, invading my space completely and hauling me up against his chest. His mouth crashed down against mine and I lifted up automatically onto my tiptoes, determined to meet his kiss head on. I poured all my pent up frustrations from the day into that kiss, letting my lips tell him in no uncertain terms what I’d never admit out loud – that I’d been suffering without his touch for hours and wouldn’t, couldn’t, stand another minute without his hands on my skin.
He groaned into my mouth, a soundthat made me want to do cartwheels around the room because it told me he’d been suffering too – he was just better at hiding it, apparently. His hands were everywhere, skimming from my hips up my sides, just grazing the undersides of my breasts before moving away to explore the small of my back. His fingers lightly traced the exposed skin between the edge of my tank top and the elastic of my thin cotton shorts, and mine were fully ensconced in the unruly hair at the nape of his neck.
His lips were relentless, his tongue unhesitantand proprietary as it entered my mouth, like he was reclaiming something that was already his. I tugged at his hair, trying to pull him even closer – to deepen his crushing kiss.
I wanted more.
His hands slipped beneath my tank top and traced along my spine, sending shivers radiating through all my limbs. I’d never felt like this – so out of control in my need to possess someone. And I’d certainly never before wanted to be possessed in turn. But right now, I had to push all of my normal hang-ups about sex from my mind, because Finn was invading my senses completely and using up all my brainpower. When he was in my head, there was simply no room for anyone, anything, else.
I wasn’t a virgin by a long shot. I liked sex, a lot – it was my drug of choice, after tequila. But this wasdifferent. It was all-consuming. A need like I’d never experienced rushed through my veins and demanded more of him. His hands moved again, and then my tank top was on the floor and I was standing before him in just my bra and shorts.
Thank goodness I’d hadforesight enough to put on my cute lace bra set from Victoria’s Secret before I got dressed this morning.
“Beautiful,”Finn whispered, gazing down at me and dragging his thumb across my bottom lip. Before he could move it away, I gave it a playful nip with my teeth and then traced my tongue lightly along the pad.
He let out another throaty groan, andpulled me against him again so my nearly bare chest aligned with his. My hands slithered down his sides and found the bottom hem of his shirt, yanking it up impatiently when I realized I was too short to lift it over his head.
He chuckled darkly and bent slightlyat the waist, lifting his arms so the shirt could slide free. I carelessly tossed it next to me with no regard for my aim, and watched as the black v-neck sailed into a pan of cerulean paint.
“That’s the second shirt of mine you’ve ruined,” he grumbled in my ear, pressing kisses along my jawline.
“I’m sure I’ll think of a way to make it up to you,” I breathed, gasping as his mouth moved over a particularly sensitive spot beneath my ear.
Before I could react, I was lifted into the air, cradled inFinn’s arms as if I weighed no more than a feather, and gently laid down on one of the paint-splotched drop cloths covering my hardwood floor. I could feel the slightly tacky wetness of the paint sliding over my bare back as he laid me down, but I quickly forgot about that as he settled over me, with one arm braced on either side of my head and his legs straddling mine.
He kissed me again, and I leaned up into him so our chests were touching, skin to skin.My hands wrapped around his back and I explored the solid muscles there, tracing their fluid movements with the tips of my fingers. I used my grip on his back to leverage myself, sitting up beneath him. He rose with me, leaning back on his knees and somehow never disengaging his mouth from mine as we moved.
We kneeled eye to eye, our breathing ragged as we stared atone other. He stilled as his eyes flickered down to notice the light scar that marred my collarbone, and his eyes clouded over with more emotions than just lust; something darker, harder, scarier filled his eyes as he saw the mark my childhood had left behind, but it was tempered by a tenderness that made my heart turn over. He was angry that someone had hurt me. He didn’t know who, or what, or when it had happened, but I could tell from the storm raging behind those gorgeous cobalt eyes that he hated the idea of me bleeding for any reason.
Someone examining my imperfections so closely should have embarrassed me, and likely would have – exceptit was Finn. He didn’t look at me with pity or disgust; he didn’t flinch away or ask probing questions. Instead, he leaned forward and gently kissed the scar, as if tracing it with his lips would make it vanish, and take away the painful memories it was a permanent tribute to.
I wanted to cry. None of the guys I’d slept with in the past had ever even noticed my scar, let alonetried to kiss it better for me. A pang of longing lanced through my chest, one I didn’t understand and didn’t want to overanalyze at that moment – not when there was a beautiful, half-naked Finn kneeling inches away.
Taking him by surprise, I launched myself at his chest and we toppled roughly backwards. He landed on his back with me sprawled half across hisbody, my hands planted on his shoulders. Our shift had upset one of the paint pans we’d used earlier, and there was a sudden rush of cerulean liquid leaking across the drop cloth and onto our tangled limbs.
I laughed asFinn realized what had happened, dipping my right hand into a paint puddle near his head and then splaying my fingers wide across his bare chest. When I pulled my hand away, there was a perfect blue handprint over his heart, like some crazy tribal war paint. I giggled at the surprised look that came into his eyes, but my laughter cut off abruptly as they narrowed in a promise of retribution.
“Don’t,” I half-begged, trying to hold in more giggles as I watched him examine his decorated chest. His eyes shifted to mine and in a flash he was sitting up, with my legs straddling his lap. We were pressed close, nose-to-nose.
“Oh,you asked for it,” he said, smiling roguishly as one hand snuck around my back and unhooked my bra with a quickness that could only be achieved with years of practice.