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His voice is low—velvety, sultry—a dangerous melody that undoes me with a single note. The way he says my name makes my knees weak. I hold my breath, frozen, unwilling—or perhaps unable—to pull away.
He steps in closer, the heat of his body licking at the space between us. His breath skims along the curve of my neck, and a tremor steals through me, unbidden.
Then, with deliberate slowness, his fingers drift to the nape of my neck. The pad of each fingertip skates across my skin, delicate as a whisper—but it feels like lightning.
Each brush of his fingers feels like a vow, whispered not in words but in touch. My skin hums beneath him, every nerve alight with awareness. There’s a gravity in his nearness, a pull I can’t—and won’t—resist. The thrum deep in my belly isn’t just desire; it’s recognition. Of him. Of this. Of something that feels inevitable.
Despite the hardened warrior Finn has become, there is nothing harsh in him now. His calloused hands move with aching gentleness, as though he’s trying to memorise the way I fit against him. He maps my body with reverent precision—like a man discovering sacred ground.
“You feel it too, aye?” Finn’s lips graze my ear, his voice a low, intimate growl. “That ache, that hunger—I feel it too, Triona, gods help me. I’ve never felt anythin’ stronger.”
Then his hand moves—steady, sure—rising to wrap around my neck. Not to control. To anchor. To claim. A silent vow spoken in flesh and heat.
A soft, unbidden whimper escapes my lips as I finally exhale the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. The sound is my answer, raw and unguarded, leaving no room for denial.
His hand at my neck tightens, the roughness of his calloused palm a stark contrast to the tenderness of his hold, anchoring me to the moment, to him, in a way that feels both dreamlike and achingly real.
“Aye,” he murmurs, his voice deeper now, rough with his own need. “I thought so.”
“This is no game to me, Little Doe,” Finn murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “You know that.”
My breath tangles in my throat, his words cutting through the defenses I’ve so carefully built.
“You see me, Triona. Ye’ve always seen me. And you know almost every part of me. And I knew from the moment you looked at me like I was worth seein’ that I’d never tire of you.”
My skin tingles under his palm, and despite my better judgment, I lean back slightly, letting my body move closer to his. The moment I do, he groans, the sound deep and guttural, his breath hot against my neck.
His other hand finds my hip, firm but not forceful, anchoring me in place. “I would not move again,” he warns, his tone devoid of playfulness as he groans into my neck. It feels hungry, almost desperate. A command wrapped in a plea.
“Finn…” I whisper, my voice trembling, caught between surrender and self-preservation.
“I dream about you. Whether I’m awake or asleep, ye’re there, hauntin’ every corner of my mind. You consume me, Triona, until there’s nothing left—only this yearning that refuses to fade. The weight of it is unbearable.”
“Thinkin’ I couldnae have you the way I wanted—it’s been torment. Pure and cruel.” His voice breaks slightly, each word a confession dragged from his very soul, before he exhales sharply.
“If we were sleepin’ outside under the stars,” he begins, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “even with everyone around us, I watched yer chest rise and fall, lingerin’ on every breath you took, wonderin’ if you ever dream of me the way I dream of you. Wishing to the gods above that it was me.”
His voice grows steadier with each word. “I pictured how it’d feel holding you in my arms, feelin’ yer bare skin against mine. I thought about how ye’d look after I worshipped every inch of you… kissin’, touchin’, tastin’… until you could take no more. Pleasurin’ you for hours, until the stars themselves envied what we shared.”
“From the moment I saw you standin’ on that cliff’s edge, the wind tanglin’ yer hair, as if it wanted to claim you for itself, I knew you had ruined me. No one else could ever compare.”
His words hit me like a wave, the weight of them sinking deep into my chest. My breath catches as I turn to search his face, looking for some sign of hesitation, of doubt—but there’s none. His golden eyes are steady, filled with an honesty that leaves me bare.
“I’ve tried to fight it,” he continues, pressing closer, his presence overwhelming. “Tried to convince myself that I could ignore what I felt. That I could go back to bein’ the man I was before. But I—.” He lifts a hand, his fingers trembling as they trace the curve of my cheek.
“Ye’ve claimed me, Little Doe, in a way no one else ever could.”
Without thinking, I move, brazenly placing my hands against his chest. His body tenses beneath my touch, his breath hitching sharply.
“I thought… I convinced myself that what I felt was one-sided. That I was foolish to think you’d ever look at me the way I look at you,” I manage, my voice trembling with the weight of my admission.
He lets out the slightest laugh, a soft, muffled sound that somehow makes my heart flutter and ache all at once.
With Finn… there’s no hesitation, no fear, only an ache that consumes me, a longing so deep it feels like it’s always been there, waiting for him. This moment feels inevitable, as if the world itself conspired to bring us here. I won’t stop it—not this time, not with him. Not when his touch feels like salvation.
His lips graze my neck, each kiss sending chills over me, stealing my breath. “I wouldnae wish this torment on anyone… Ye’d drive a man mad and straight off a cliff, Triona. Ye’re drivin’ me mad, challengin’ me every chance you get.”
His words make my head spin, but I move closer, needing the contact, the heat of him. His hands shift, one sliding to the back of my neck, his thumb brushing against my skin, the other pressing firmly at the small of my back, holding me to him.
