Only Mine (Fool's Gold #4)(26)

Finn’s eyes were dark with passion, which was nice. She was tempted to glance down to see if there was physical proof of his feelings, but she couldn’t figure out how to do it without being obvious. Still, there was every chance he’d been offering a polite kiss and she’d gone after him like a sex-starved monkey.

“I, ah, don’t know what to say,” she admitted, not quite meeting his gaze.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Finn mumbled. “You weren’t… That’s not why you…” He cleared his throat.

She frowned, not sure if he was apologizing or trying to escape. Hope shoved embarrassment out of the way.

“I’m glad that you did that,” she said, telling herself that being brave built character. “You are?”

She forced herself to look at him and found him staring at her. Oh, yeah. That was some serious passion.

“Very glad.”

One eyebrow raised. “Me, too.”

Heat stained her cheeks, but she plunged ahead anyway. “We could do it again.”

“We could. There’s only one problem.”

He was married? He used to be a woman? He was g*y?

“I’m not sure I’ll want to stop,” he admitted.

The relief was nearly as good as the kiss had been. Dakota stepped toward him and didn’t stop until her body was plastered against his. Which answered the question about his feelings on the subject.

“That works for me,” she whispered.

She’d planned to say more, to suggest they move to her bedroom, but she didn’t get the chance.

Once again, Finn kissed her. And while it wasn’t as unexpected as the first time, she still found herself swept away.

She surrendered to his strong embrace, wanting to feel his arms around her. She parted her mouth, and he plunged inside, teasing her into passionate frenzy. Even as his mouth claimed hers, his hands were everywhere. He stroked her back, then dropped lower, to her rear. He cupped the curves, squeezing until she instinctively arched forward.

Her belly rubbed against his erection. He was hard and thick, and the image that contact painted made her whimper. Without thinking, she reached behind her and grabbed his hands, then brought them around to her br**sts.

The second he touched her, she began to melt. His hands cupped her curves, caressing the skin as he learned every inch of her. His thumbs and forefingers found her ni**les and teased them. Then he grabbed the hem of her sweater and tugged it over her head.

He’d barely had time to toss it away when she was pulling at the hooks on her bra. The bra went flying. Her only thought was to hope the stove was off so if it landed there, nothing bad would happen.

While she was doing that, Finn pulled off his shirt and kicked off his shoes. Then he bent down and drew her right nipple into his mouth. He licked the hard, sensitive tip before sucking deeply. She felt the connection all the way down her belly. Wanting tugged her center.

The combination of the movement, the heat, the moisture and the friction nearly drove her to her knees. She held on to him to keep standing. He switched to her other breast and used his fingers to caress the first. She ran her fingers through his hair, then brought his face to hers so she could kiss him again.

As their tongues tangled, he unfastened the button on her jeans. She stepped out of her flats. Seconds later, her jeans and bikini briefs hit the floor. Finn followed, dropping to his knees, parting her thighs and kissing her intimately.

There was no warning, she thought frantically. No way to prepare herself for the gentle assault of his lips and tongue. She was defenseless as he explored all of her before returning again and again to her swollen center.

With each erotic lick, she felt herself getting closer. Her legs trembled until it was nearly impossible to stay upright. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, but it wasn’t enough. She could feel herself starting to sink.

He caught her as she fell, pulling her into his embrace and against his chest. His skin burned hot against hers. As he stood, her feet left the floor, then he was carrying her through the small house.

She thought about giving directions, but as there were only two bedrooms on a single floor, she knew he could figure it out. Sure enough, he went directly into her bedroom, where he placed her on the quilt. Before he joined her, he sent his jeans and boxers skidding to the other side of the room.

He slid down next to her and put his hands on her body. He began at her forehead, lightly tracing her skin. He touched her cheekbones, her ears, her jaw. He traced her shoulders, her collarbone, before settling his hands on her br**sts.

From there, he journeyed down her waist, over her hips, to the vee between her legs. She’d thought he might linger, finish what he started. But instead he continued down her thighs to her knees, her calves to her ankles.

He made the return trip more slowly. When he reached the soft skin of her inner thighs, he shifted between her legs, parted her and bent down to kiss her.

His tongue went immediately to where she was most sensitive. The steady stroking, a back and forth rhythm designed to drive her to madness, made her moan. Her body was not her own. He controlled every reaction, every sensation. Over and over again. Up and down.

Her muscles tensed. She felt herself straining toward the finish.

Not yet, she thought frantically. It was too good. She had to make it last. But it was impossible. The sureness of his touch, the feel of him against her. She felt herself nearing the end, nearing the inevitable.