Page 41 of Daring to Love

“The things I want to do to you,” he rasps, running his nose around mine. He rubs his palms against the hard peaks of my nipples, the callouses teasing me as he swipes his tongue along the seams of my lips. “You’re so fucking sexy. I want your hands and mouth on me. I want you to see and feel everything.”

His words make me tremble, and I grow more and more impatient to be closer to him.

“Yesterday, we made love,” he growls and widens my legs. As he runs them up my thighs, his thumbs draw achingly closer to my core. I want to meowl out in protest when they vanish, only to settle under my ribs, but then he lifts me up and brings me closer to where I want to be. Maddening pleasure courses through me, and I whimper as I sit down on top of him. “Today, I want to fuck you, eat, and sleep.”

“Tais-toi et embrasse-moi,” I moan, lifting my arms to burrow my fingers in his hair.

“Mmm, I love that you speak French when you’re turned on,” he hums in approval, “and I’ll shut up and kiss you in a minute, but…”

My pulse spikes as he pushes his hips up, the friction deliciously erotic against my swollen clit.

“But...?” I gasp.

“But first, I need to hear you want this as much as I do, sweetheart.”

One more swipe of his tongue, this time on my neck, is one more reminder of what he can do to me. He cranes his head to stare deeply into my eyes, showing me that the fire he speaks of is rising to the surface. I burn from the look alone, but I crave his body on mine.

Can he really doubt I want this as much as he does? Another day spent in his arms feels like heaven to me. I want to feel his firm weight pressing me down on my bed, my arms and limbs holding him close. To taste his sweat on his chest. To play with his body as much as he plays with mine.

The answer is an easy one to answer.

“Oui, mon chéri,” I whisper. “I want all that and more.”

Triumph flashes in his eyes as he finally gives me what I crave – he tilts his head moments before he takes my mouth, our teeth clashing from the wildness of our hunger for each other. It’s a desperate kiss, a crazed one, but oh, so lovely and honest as it is raw.

Then we do as he asked for: we fuck, we eat, and we sleep.

Then we do it again.

And I have never felt happier in my life.

* * *

“There’ssomething I should tell you,” Finlay murmurs in my ear.

We’re spooning on my sofa, naked underneath a soft blanket, and watching old episodes of Friends on the telly, but his words instantly make me tense.

“What’s that? That you’re really married and have a brood of children?”

He chuckles and I feel his lips pressing down on my neck.

“Nothing like that.”

I shrug, but I’m not sure he buys it.

“Whatever it is, tell me before the next episode is on.”

He snuggles closer to me, and I secretly thrill at his need to cuddle. While I’ve never experienced it before, I am already a huge fan of spooning.

“Right. The day we met, I Googled you.”

I groan and bore my eyes down to his arm resting under my head.

“And?” My voice comes out muffled, but I don’t care.

“And I didn’t find anything, which strikes me as odd since my editor at the paper has heard of your talent. But then an old article from a French paper popped up, and I tried to translate it. Even with my rubbish skills, I believe I got the gist of it…”

“Go on.”