I shiver, the heat of his words sinking beneath my skin, through my bones, straight to my core.
His lips barely graze my jaw as he whispers, "Let me take care of it."
There’s something about his absolute obsession that makes me crave what he’s offering, even here in the alleyway, with the pungent smell of trash nearby.
Before I can react, he twists me in his arms, pinning me between his body and the cold brick wall. The sudden shift knocks the breath from my lungs, but he just watches me, eyes dark and hungry.
His fingers trail up, brushing over my collarbone, along my jaw, leaving sparks in their wake. His focus is razor-sharp, memorizing me, carving me into him.
Then—click. The sound rips through me, a shiver down my spine. I blink up at him as he lowers the camera, smirk tugging at his lips.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, dragging his knuckles along my jaw, touch so reverent it weakens my knees.
I should shove him away. I should. But instead I melt into it—into him. The way he sees me, the way his gaze wraps around me, whole and consuming, soothes something fractured inside me.
“Look at you,” he breathes, thumb tracing the curve of my bottom lip, pupils blown wide. “You love it. Knowing I see you in a way no one else does.”
I suck in a shaky breath, pulse hammering, my skin burning beneath his slow, deliberate touch.
God help me, he’s right.
Finn sees me. Not as some untouchable, overprotected omega. Not as some fragile thing to be shielded and locked away. He sees me as I am.
And that should scare me.
It doesn’t.
I let out a slow, shuddering breath, my lips parting on instinct. “You’re right.”
Finn stills.
Something shifts in his eyes, the teasing flicker gone, replaced by something more primal, more possessive. His fingers tighten just slightly around my jaw. “Say it again.”
I wet my lips, pulse hammering against my ribs. “You’re right, Finn.”
That’s all he needs.
He crashes into me, mouth claiming mine in a kiss so deep it steals my breath, so thorough it feels carved into my bones.
A moan rips out of me as my fists curl in his shirt, yanking him closer. He groans, body crushing into mine, hands sliding into my hair, gripping hard—anchoring himself, refusing to let go.
The world tilts, gone. All that’s left is him. His mouth on mine, hungry, desperate, devouring me as though I’m oxygen, as though he’s starving and I’m the only thing that could ever fill him.
And fuck—I love it.
A deep growl rumbles from his chest as his tongue slides against mine. My knees weaken, my body melting into his. And just when I think he’s going to fuck me right here against the brick, he pulls back.
Abruptly.
His chest is heaving, his hands still tangled in my hair. His jaw flexes as he inhales deep, trying to steady himself.
I blink, dazed, aching, my lips swollen and tingling.
“Not here,” he says, his fingers brushing against my cheek. “You deserve better than a dirty alleyway.”
His standards shouldn’t make me melt.
But they do.
