Let Me (O'Brien Family, #2)(31)
He unlocks the door, and flicks on the light, illuminating the cherry wood floors. He shrugs out of his leather jacket. As I unbutton my coat, I take in the room around me, so captivated by the rich feel of “home”, I barely feel him slip the coat from my shoulders.
Comfortable and classic-looking chocolate brown leather couches make up the family room, a dark wood and stone table at its center. To our right, French doors open to a small library, two comfortable and cushy chairs set in front of a brick fireplace, along with an antique secretary’s desk near the window.
“You like to read?” I ask, motioning to the shelves that take up every inch of one wall.
He laughs. “I used to, mostly fantasy.”
“Fantasy?” I question, stopping to try to make out the hardcover novels in the dimly lit room.
Again he laughs. “Harry Potter, the Dresden files―action-related fantasy. But I haven’t picked up a book in forever. When I train as much as I do, I either go out for a bit or come home and crash.” He leads me into the kitchen, his fingers playing with my hand as he walks. “Want something to drink?”
“Water would be great,” I say, taking in the wood beam ceilings. “I always wanted to live in a house like this,” I add, taking in the freshly painted plaster walls.
“Yeah? Why?”
It sounds stupid, but I tell him because it’s true. “It feels like a real home.”
He nods as if he knows what I mean. “It does,” he agrees.
He tosses his keys on the counter as we step into the kitchen. The cabinets are stained sage green and white granite with swirls of silver make up the counters. It shouldn’t work, but somehow it does, adding another degree of elegance to an already beautiful home. “Did Sofia help you decorate?”
“Damn right, she did.” He hands me a bottle of water from the stainless steel fridge. “Do you think me and Wren would have been able to pick this shit out?” He cracks open a bottle of his own and downs half of it before pointing. “We were going to go with black and white―the counters, cabinets, even the tile. Sofia didn’t want us to lose the classic look of the house―or however she put it, and really had to work to convince us. Hell, I’m glad she did. Wren’s friend, a realtor, stopped by after we finished. Said something about doubling the value just by preserving its structure―not that we’re going to sell―but it’s good to know.”
Finn leans against the counter, his ripped muscles bulging against his gray T-shirt. Dark jeans cover his strong legs and firm assets. But it’s his face and grin that draw me closer . . . and the knowledge that his powerful body will be on top of me all night.
He frowns at my approach, noticing I’ve only taken a few sips of my water. “Do you want to watch T.V. or something?”
My eyes fix on his. “No.”
The purr in my tone suggests I’m done talking. “Well, all right,” he says, pushing off the counter.
His arm slips behind my back and his mouth lowers on mind for a kiss. He smiles against my lips before leading me out through the other side of the kitchen, down a small hall and toward the bedroom. I catch a glimpse of a bathroom at the end before we enter a large bedroom.
Dark wood furniture a few shades lighter than the floor make up his room. There’s a framed MMA poster signed by Tito Ortiz near a king-sized bed with a leather headboard and a thick white comforter. A triangular rug with a pattern of white, brown, and gold squares lies parallel to the bed. It’s a simple, modern décor, but still very much Finn.
He releases my hand by the door, edging back to the bed and lowering into a sitting position. “Hey,” he says.
Seeing how much space he’s giving me, I’m beginning to wonder if he thinks I’m a virgin. But like I mentioned, I’m not.
I answer by unbuttoning the top of my black blouse and slipping it over my head. Finn’s eyes widen when my lacy mauve bra lands on the floor beside the blouse. Despite my petite stature, I’m pretty busty. And while Finn has played with my breasts, he’s never actually seen them. Not like this. His reaction stirs my blush, but also an impish grin.
He likes what he sees. Hopefully he’ll like the rest even more. I shut the door and lock it, stripping slowly out of the remainder of my clothes as I make my way across his bedroom.
I step between his knees, biting down on my lip as my gaze falls to the large bulge pressing against his jeans. “Hi,” I murmur.
His hands glide along my curves and his smoky stare rakes down my body, taking every inch of me in before returning to my face. “You ready for me?” he asks.
There’s no hesitation. I pull his shirt off and toss it aside.
CHAPTER 13
Finn
Holy. Shit.
Sol’s breasts skim over my chest when I haul her to me, her nipples stiffening as they graze across my skin. Our kiss is slow at first, but as it builds, so does my erection, pulsing hard against my jeans. I kick off my hiking boots and socks as fast as I can, flipping her onto her back even faster.
She squeals from surprise, but as I rub against her she gasps and arches her back, encouraging me to pull one of her large brown tips into my mouth to suck. A deep moan rips from her chest as she clutches me to her. But when I slip my fingers between her legs, those moans turn to grunts.
My mouth releases her nipple with a pop as I sit up, needing to see her face―needing to know she’s okay with what I’m doing. Her eyelids flutter as my fingers circle her, slickening folds. “You like that, baby?” I ask.