Yes. This. It was just what she needed, because here, held by him like this, her guilt, her regret, her fears . . . all of it gave way to this heady, languid sensation of being desired and she didn’t want it to stop.
Any of it.
His eyes were deep and intense as he shifted, nudging against the apex of her thighs. Keeping his gaze on hers, he kissed her again, sending licks of fiery desire right through her. Then those hands drifted down to her thighs, his fingers over the terry cloth, his thumbs beneath.
“Is this what you want?” he asked.
She gasped at the sensation of his callused thumbs grazing over her inner thighs, and he caught her mouth with his in a deep, hot, wet kiss as he slipped beneath her towel now, cupping her bare ass in his big hands.
When she was too breathless to hold the kiss, she broke it off, her head falling back as his mouth skimmed hot and wet down her throat, across her collarbone. Her entire body felt strung too tight, like her skin didn’t fit. Impatient, she arched into him again, dragging a rough groan from him.
“Pru.” His voice was thrillingly rough, but there was a warning there too. He wasn’t going to let this get away from her. She was going to have to say how far they took things.
“I want this,” she whispered, clutching at him. “I want . . .”
His mouth was at her ear, bringing her a delicious spine shiver. “Name it.”
“You. Please, Finn, I want you.”
Raising his head, he stared at her before kissing her again, stroking his tongue to hers in a rhythm that made her hips grind to his. The soft denim of his jeans rasped over the tender skin of her inner thighs and thrilling to it, she wrapped her legs even tighter around him, drawing him closer, the hottest, neediest part of her desperately seeking attention.
Finn said something low and inaudible, and then let out a quiet laugh as he nipped her lower lip, her throat, and then . . . her towel slipped from her breasts.
He’d loosened it with his teeth.
When he put his hot mouth to her nipple, she nearly went over the edge right then and there. He cupped her breasts in his big warm hands, shifting his attention from one to the other, his stubbled jaw gently scraping over her in the most bone-melting of ways, his movements sensual, so slow and erotic she could hardly stand it. “Finn.”
He lifted his head and held her gaze while he spread the towel from her, letting it fall to her sides before he worked his way south, lazily exploring every inch of her like he had all the time in the world, humming in pleasure when he found the little compass on her hip. He spent a long moment there, learning her tattoo—with his tongue.
And all she could do was grip the counter on either side of her, head tipped back because it was too much effort to hold it up, her nerve endings sending high bolts of desire through her at his every touch.
She was completely naked to his fully dressed body now. Open, exposed . . . vulnerable in more ways than one. Certainly more than she’d allowed in far too long, although she didn’t feel a single ounce of self-consciousness or anxiety about it.
She felt nothing but the sharp lick of hunger and need barreling down on her like a freight train in tune to his clever mouth and greedy hands. She was afraid if he so much as breathed on her special happy place, she’d go off like a bottle rocket.
And then he dropped to his knees.
His hands glided up her inner thighs, holding her open so his lips could make their way homeward bound. About thirty minutes ago she’d thought she needed steak more than anything but it turned out that wasn’t true. She needed this, with Finn.
One of their phones buzzed, either hers on the floor in her pants pocket, or his from wherever he had it tucked away. She started to straighten but then his fingers stroked her wet flesh and she forgot about the phone. Hell, she forgot her own name. “Oh God, don’t stop. Please, Finn, don’t stop . . .”
“I’ve got you.” And then he replaced his teasing fingers with his tongue, giving her a slow, purposeful lick. She whimpered as he continued to nuzzle her, luring her into relaxing again—and then his lips formed a hot suction.
And that was it, she’d become the bottle rocket and was gone, launched out of orbit. Hell, out of the stratosphere. When she came back to planet Earth, she realized she had Finn by the hair, her fingers curled tight against his head, her thighs squeezing his head like he was a walnut to be cracked. “I’m so sorry!” she gasped, forcing herself to let go of him. “I nearly ripped out your hair.”
The words backed up in her throat when he turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to her inner thigh, sending her up a very male, very protective, possessive, smug smile. “Worth it,” he said, and licked his lips.