There was no more talking then. Just movement. Just pleasure. Just ragged breaths and pounding hearts.
Then, with muffled cries, they came together.
He reached for her afterward, pulling her against his chest.
“I am not, and never have been, interested in Marsha. And any potential interest on her end doesn’t change the fact that I’m not interested, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed, feeling that strange flushing sensation move through her insides again. “I don’t like how she acts around you.”
“I get that,” he agreed, turning to tuck himself away. “Next time,” he said, “if there is a next time, stake your claim.”
“My claim?” she asked.
Finn leaned down, pulling her panties back into place, then dropping her skirt.
“If you think someone is being inappropriate, come over.”
“I was there the last time,” she said, dredging up the unresolved past. “You dismissed me. After barely introducing me.”
Finn reached for her, turning her, then reaching for her chin, tipping her head up.
“You’re right. I didn’t see it that way at the time, but you’re right. I’ll do better.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the outside of her lips. “I’m not used to having anyone with me,” he went on, kissing the other corner of her mouth. “But I will do better.”
With one final quick kiss to her lips, he straightened her dress and wiped a small smudge of her lipstick while she adjusted his shirt and tie.
Then they walked out of the bathroom, hand in hand, and joined the crowd as they moved toward the dining room.
True to his word, he kept her close all evening. His hand held hers, wrapped around her, or squeezed her knee under the table.
He introduced her to everyone with her full title and her connection to him.
This is Princess Iris Marivelle, my fiancée.
Each time he said it, she felt that warm gush move through her.
It was a lovely evening. Even if she had been overwhelmed by the formal table setting that included no fewer than five forks, five drink glasses, four knives, and three spoons.
But Finn sensed her confusion and squeezed her leg under the table before very slowly reaching for the correct utensil with each course of the meal.
As Finn explained, there had been a very charming panther shifter with sleek black hair and lively yellow eyes who served as the evening’s emcee. A few speakers got up to talk about the cause: the Paranormal Preservation Fund, which was dedicated to preserving historical landmarks tied to old magic, fae architecture, vampire crypts, and so on.
The only real surprise of the night was when the emcee moved off stage to allow someone else to introduce the surprise celebrity guest.
AndMontywalked out on the stage, decked out in a custom-made little suit, complete with a snappy bow tie.
“He always said he was destined for greatness,” Iris murmured as he charmed the crowd with a few jokes before introducing a siren who was one of the most sought-after and highly paid movie stars in the world.
She had a story about losing some of her own familyhistory due to the lack of preservation efforts for most paranormal communities.
Before she felt like she could soak up everything, the event was over.
Finn was stopped another eight or ten times on their way back to their car.
But finally, they were sitting in the back of the car, her heels on the ground, her legs up on Finn’s lap, and his hands massaging her aching soles.
Her cheeks ached from smiling; her feet throbbed from standing. But her heart? That was somehow lighter.
“You were wonderful tonight,” he told her. The praise moved through her like velvet, soft and indulgent.
