Page 167 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

The top of her head barely reaches my chin. My arms swallow her completely. She could kill a man with her bare hands and she fits inside my arms like something I need to be careful with.

We stand there for a while, looking out at the river. The water is black and still, the moon reflected in it like a coin at the bottom of a well.

“You know what this reminds me of?” I say against her hair.

“What?”

“The night we met.”

She’s quiet for a moment. Her thumb traces the rim of the glass.

“It feels like such a long time ago,” she says softly.

“Do you know I came home that night and told Max and Ethan about you?”

She turns in my arms, looking up at me. “You did?”

“I wouldn’t stop talking about you for days. I tried to find you—asked about you at the gala, described you to everyone I could think of. Nobody knew who you were.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “This woman with dark eyes and a laugh that made me forget my own name, and she vanished like she’d never existed.”

I tuck her hair behind her ear and study her face. Her eyes are green in the moonlight, pale and clear, nothing like the dark brown I remember from that night. The real ones. The ones she hid from everyone, including me.

“I like these better,” I say.

She blinks. “What?”

“Your eyes. The green.” I trace the edge of her cheekbone with my thumb. “I didn’t think you could get more beautiful. I was wrong.”

She bites her lip. “Finn, I thought about you too. For days after. I even dreamed of you. I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.”

Her eyes drop to my mouth, then come back to mine.

I kiss her. My hands cup her face and tilt it back until she rises onto her toes. Her mouth opens under mine, and her warm, sweet taste pulls a groan from me. I deepen the kiss, my tongue meeting hers, and the sound she makes into my mouth vibrates through my whole body. Her hands grip my bare waist, fingers digging into my skin as she pulls me closer.

The glass of water is still in her hand. I take it from her without breaking the kiss, set it on the windowsill—and then both my hands are in her hair and both of hers are on my chest and the kiss deepens into something that isn’t slow anymore.

My hands find the hem of Ethan’s shirt. I pull it up and over her head, and she’s bare underneath—just smooth skin and the breasts I’ve been thinking about since the kitchen, and the sight of her in nothing but underwear and moonlight makes my hands shake.

“God, Sophie. You’re perfect.”

I cup her breasts in both hands and roll her nipples between my fingers, gently, and the moan that comes out of her goes straight to my cock. I kiss her jaw, her neck, my mouth open against her pulse while my hands move over her slowly, taking my time with every inch.

My hand slides lower. Down her stomach, over the soft curve of her hip, and between her legs. She’s already soaked—slick and hot and swollen through the fabric.

“Sweetheart.” My hand goes still on her. “You’re soaked.”

I slide a finger through her folds and she gasps, her hips rolling against my hand.

“Finn—”

I kiss her before she can finish.

Then I lift her. Her legs wrap around my waist and I carry her to the couch, kissing her the whole way. I sit down and pull her into my lap. I stroke her cheek and look at her—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, those green eyes fixed on mine, wanting and disbelieving at once, like she still can’t quite trust that this is real.

I kiss her again. Every time she shifts against me, my cock presses harder into my boxers, but I don’t rush her.

“Finn?”

“Yeah?”