For a moment, Fin thought she was going to insist that hedesist and was prepared to hand the camera back but then her expression changed, her chin jutted and she dropped her hands. ‘Like this?’ she asked.
Fuck. Yes. ‘Perfect,’ he murmured.
She posed for him then, straddled atop him, the soft centre of her pressed firm against the hard centre of him, her modesty falling away in increments as she became more and more comfortable being the subject for a change. Bold, even, as she shoved her hands into her hair, thrusting her chest, arching her back, scooping up her breasts as if she was offering them to him and—yeah … he was done with the nudie photography session.
But she was not, apparently, as he discarded the camera on the bed and vaulted up to suck a nipple into the hot, deep cavern of his mouth.
‘No,’ she panted as she pushed on his shoulders. ‘Wait.’
Fin relinquished his mouthful regretfully, falling back against the sheets, his belly taut with banked desire, his head fuzzy with lust.
‘One more.’ She grabbed the camera as she climbed off him to slide in next to him and pull up the sheets to cover herself. ‘Selfie?’ she asked, raising herself on an elbow, her other hand holding the camera out from them, the lens pointed in their direction.
Very much liking the sound of that, Fin nodded as he also raised himself up on his elbow. ‘Sure.’
Confident they were reasonably centred in the frame, they posed with their heads smooshed together, smiling then laughing as Sweeney’s trigger finger snapped what felt like a hundred pictures. ‘Should be something good amongst that lot,’ she said, finally satisfied as she reached across him and placed the camera on his bedside table. ‘Now.’ She settled back on her elbow. ‘Where were we?’
Fin grinned as he yanked at the sheet tucked under her arms, exposing her breasts to his view once again. ‘Here, I believe,’ he muttered, his salivary glands already responding to the swift peaking of her nipples.
‘Oh no.’ Sweeney pushed him onto his back as she moved to kneel between his legs, dragging the sheet down with her. ‘I think it’s your turn.’
Fin let out an unsteady breath as her fingers landed on the band of his underwear that was barely restraining his raging boner. She pulled then and the showy little fucker popped straight out, thudding hot and heavy against the swathe of flesh slung low between his hip bones.
‘Mmm,’ she hummed appreciatively, her gaze travelling all the way up his body and meeting his. ‘Perfect,’ she mimicked with a smile.
Then she lowered her head and licked him from root to tip andeverythingwent hazy.
Twenty-Eight
Sweeney’s phone vibrated at five-thirty the next morning. Considering she and Fin had only been asleep for three hours, it was a rather rude awakening.
It was Veronica.
Airlines flying again. Job ready to go. Booked you on a plane leaving Brisbane airport in four hours. Emailed the deets. Text me when you’re boarding.
It was typical Veronica—brevity being her specialty. And in her boss’s defence, shehadlet Sweeney know before she’d left for the Gold Coast that it should only be a matter of days. Still, Sweeney had figured the missive would come once they were back in Ballyshannon and, with so much going on this weekend, she hadn’t been obsessively watching the news out of Indonesia as she had been for the last few weeks.
Also, her boss didn’t know she’d spent all night tangled up with Fin or how much, for the first time in her life, Sweeney wanted to stay put. And it was for that reason that Sweeney tapped a quick reply. Fin was the last guy she could stay put for.
Will do.
She sent it out into the ether. See your brevity, Veronica, and raise you one.
Glancing sideways, she stared at Fin’s back and was grateful for small mercies. It would have been a lot harder to get out of bed and pack if she’d had to look at his face. His sexy, whiskery, oh so familiar face. But shehadto get out of bed and pack. Because it was her job and this was who she was.
No matter how her hand itched to slide onto his shoulder and kiss him one last time, no matter how her heart ached at the thought of leaving, no matter how empty she felt at the thought of all the days ahead without Fin in them beingFin.
Once upon a time she’d taken his presence in her life for granted. And then they’d grown up and life had taken them in different directions and their connection had been fond and nostalgic but infrequent and that was fine because that was the way of the world, right?
But she’d had a Fin reboot, got used to having him around again, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to the odd DM and a birthday text.
Even though they’d promised they’d keep in better contact.
The hot well of tears built at the backs of her eyes and Sweeney blinked them away. She didn’t cry when she walked away. Shenevercried over a man. And she wouldn’t cry over Fin, who shewouldsee again—they’d made a pact, damn it—and who would, one way or the other, always be in her life.
Would the fact they’d crossed a line last night make those times a little awkward? Sure, at first. But they were grown-ups and they’d just have to get past the bit where they now knew each other carnally.
Thanks to their mothers.
