At 5:58, there was a knock on my door.
I took a breath and opened it.
And there was Finn.
He wore silky athletic shorts that hung low on his hips and showed a bulge that made my pulse race. His shirt was far too tight, the vintage Apple Computer logo at its center, clinging to his chest and arms in a way that made my mouth water.
“Hey, you,” he said, that soft smile spreading across his face.
“Hey,” I managed.
Before he could say another word, I reached out, grabbed the Apple logo on his shirt, and yanked himinside. Our mouths met in the middle of the living room. We weren’t gentle or tentative. Hell, that kiss felt desperate and wanting and three days overdue.
Finn made a growling sound low in his throat and pressed closer, his hands finding my waist and pulling me against him.
God, he felt good.
I walked him backward until he hit the wall, never breaking the kiss. Finn’s hands went to my hair, tugging in that way that made heat pool.
When we broke apart, both breathing hard, I looked down at him. He was flushed, with swollen lips and bright eyes.
Then I reached down to touch the silky fabric of his shorts.
“Ooh,” I said, running my hand over the material. “I like these shorts. I can feeleverything.”
Finn’s breath hitched as my fingers found his cock.
His eyes darkened.
Then he said, voice rough and confident in a way I hadn’t heard before: “I bet they’ll feel a lot better on the floor.”
My brain short-circuited.
“Yeah?” I managed.
“Yeah.”
I didn’t wait, didn’t think, just grabbed the waistbandand yanked his shorts down, watching them pool at his feet. Finn kicked them away, standing there in just that tight Apple T-shirt and nothing else, looking at me with hunger and certainty in his gaze.
Then he surprised me a second time in as many minutes. He stepped back, motioning up and down my fully clothed body with one hand, and said, “This time,youneed to strip. Every last piece. I want you naked before you worship me.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Worship you,” I muttered.
But my hands were already moving to the buttons of my shirt, undoing them one by one, because Finn O’Brien could tell me to do something in that accent and I would simply do it, no questions asked.
“That’s what I said,” Finn replied, watching me with those bright blue eyes. “Worship.”
I shrugged off my shirt and let it fall to the floor.
Finn’s gaze tracked across my chest, down to where my hands were moving to my belt.
“Keep going,” he whispered.
“Now who’s bossy?” I pulled my belt free with more drama than the act required.
Finn didn’t dare look away. “You get to be in charge—I like that—but youwillworship me as you order me around. Got it?”
What was it about this guy that made me want to crawl into his skin and inhabit the same space? Jesus.
