“Nah.” I lean down to kiss her forehead. “I think it’s all going to turn out perfect.”
Chapter 47
Beckett
“Areyouready?”Iask, pulling a suit jacket over my shoulders and taking one final look in the mirror.
“Ready,” Finley replies as she walks into the room, still fastening her earring as she moves.
She looks amazing, in a black dress that hugs her curves and heels. Her dark hair is down, the curls she’s been working on swaying slightly.
“Never mind,” I say, caging her between me and the wall in our upmarket Parisian hotel room, “let’s just stay here. You look far too good to go out.”
It was the tenth day of Finley’s suspension when I suggested we go literally anywhere people wouldn’t recognize us.
For the first time in our lives, we both have unlimited free time. After spending eight days barely leaving my bedroom, we finally came down from the high of being together enough to realize that we needed to do something other than have sex.
Not that I was complaining.
And based on the way she woke me up with her mouth every morning, I don’t think she was, either. But I wanted to take her on dates. To buy her dinner. To go to the movies. And Denver isn’t exactly a safe place for that at the moment. Hell, the United States and Canada were both out, considering how recognizable she is.
But Paris? Well, it felt like it’d be a lot easier for us to go unnoticed here.
Plus, it was the most romantic place I could think of.
And since I tell Finley just how hard and fast I’ve fallen in love with her at least once a day, it felt fitting for our vacation. Even if Finley feels guilty about taking a vacation when she should be enduring her suspension.
Fortunately for her, I disagree.
So we booked our flights two days ago. And now, here we are with two weeks left before we need to return to Denver.
I lean down, brushing a kiss against her lips that deepens into something more.
When we finally pull apart, Finley wipes at the edges of my lips with her thumb. “My lipstick looks good on you.”
“It’d look even better on my dick,” I whisper in her ear, my voice teasing.
She quirks her lips to the side. “Only one way to find out, I suppose.”
“We’ll be late for dinner,” I force myself to remind her, and it takes a Herculean effort to get the words out as she starts to drop to her knees in front of me.
She pauses, her hand on my zipper as she thinks about it. After a moment, she says, “We can be late.”
“Fuck, yes, we can.”
She looks up at me, her tongue millimeters from the head of my cock, and warns, “Just don’t fuck up my hair.”
“Yes, Queenie.” I love this version of Finley. The one who is working on being okay with being late every once in a while, but still commands a room like a fucking drill sergeant.
She licks the tip of my dick before pulling me into the warm tunnel of her mouth. My hips jerk forward, and I have to fist my hands next to me to avoid gripping her head to take control.
Working me with her mouth and hand, I’m right on the edge quickly. It’s fucking incredible how my body responds to this woman.
“Need to be inside you,” I say, pulling her to her feet. I slide her dress over her hips and lift her up, spinning us so her back is against the wall. I shove her panties to the side, groaning when I feel how wet she is for me.
“Fucking love you,” I murmur as I slowly push inside.
Finley’s eyes flutter closed as I pick up my tempo, but she still manages to reply, “Love you, too.”
