We watch the game in silence for a few minutes, falling into our old rhythm. These past few weeks have taught me that, even when we’re not talking, just being with Finley is enough to make me feel whole in a way I’m not sure I have since I started playing hockey. Since I started chasing my dad’s dreams and embracing them as my own.
“I wanted to say yes,” Finley admits, her eyes still glued to the game on the television.
“What?” I ask.
“I’ve been avoiding you, not because you wanted to kiss me, but becauseIwanted to say yes.” She finally looks at me, and I can see the uncertainty in her eyes.
“You… wanted me to kiss you?” I ask, a million butterflies taking off in my stomach at once.
She nods, her gaze dropping from mine to my lips.
This. It’s everything I’ve wanted, and all the things I know I can’t have. That Ishouldn’thave. But, if Finley wants it, too, who am I to resist? Hell, I haven’t been able to resist her since we started spending time together. What would possibly make me think I could do it now, when she’s looking at me like that?
“Do you want me to kiss you now?”
She nods again, just once, and as much as I want to crash my lips against hers, I can’t risk a misunderstanding. Instead, I lean toward her, my hand finding her cheek. As I lightly stroke it with my thumb, I murmur, “I need to hear you say it, Queenie. Tell me I can kiss you.”
Rather than responding, she leans toward me, her mouth pressing against mine as her arms wrap around my neck. I catch her, lowering us both, so she’s lying on top of me as our lips explore each other.
The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s heated and rough, and I demand more, teasing my tongue along the entrance to her mouth. She opens for me, and suddenly our tongues are dancing, a sensual entwining that snaps every last thread of my control.
I pull her body into mine, my hips thrusting of their own accord when she grips my bicep to rock slightly against me. It’s just one small movement, but it ignites a raging need inside me. The one that’s been building for months.
“Can I—” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“Yes,” she replies, her ice-blue eyes dark with lust.
I chuckle, the sound warm and deep between us. “You don’t know what I was going to ask.”
“It doesn’t matter. The answer is yes. I fucking want this. I want itall.”
A tiny voice in the back of my head tries to tell me this isn’t a good idea, that she doesn’t mean it, but I forcibly shut it down.Finley Blake is not someone who agrees to things she doesn’t want.
I have her borrowed sweatshirt over her head seconds later and throw it as far from the couch as I possibly can. Making sure she’s covered with the comforter, I start to explore.
My hands flow from her ass to the sides of her breasts, tracing and teasing every line as I continue to kiss her.
Needing more access, I wrap my arms around her and flip us both. Our lips break apart, and I drop my forehead to hers, breathing heavily.
“Fuck,” I groan. “You’re perfect.”
A cocky smile plays across her lips. “Then why are you stopping? Make me come, Beckett.”
I drop my mouth to her beautiful, dark pink nipple, nipping at it gently before sucking it into my mouth. She may be in charge most of the time, but not here.
She arches at the touch, letting out a sigh as her fingers rake through my hair. I suck harder, and her body jerks. I’m sure I could have her falling apart in minutes, me following close behind, no doubt, but now it’s a challenge. And I plan on making this last as long as possible.
Before I make her come, of course.
“That’s right, just like that,” I murmur as she whimpers slightly.
I take my time, exploring, tasting, sucking. Moving from her neck to her perky tits to her hip bones and back up again.
She grinds against my erection, and I moan, “Good fucking girl.”
I move against her, the friction like a trophy at the end of a hard-fought season, but when she gets too close, I pull back, keeping the tension at a point that’s enough but not too much.
“Fuck, Beckett,” she breathes. “Please.”
