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I press closer, feeling the friction, the undeniable proof of his desire. He hisses, the sound rough and ragged, and I revel in the power I seem to have over him.

I tilt my head up, my eyes locked on his, refusing to tear my gaze away as the tension between us swells. “Tell me, Finn,” I whisper, tilting my head, letting my lips hover just out of reach. “Would you really stand by while another man claims me?”

I press into him again, daring him, testing the limits of his restraint. “Could you handle it, Finn?” I ask, my voice dropping to a sultry murmur. “Could you handle another man laying claim to me?”

I can’t hide my taunting look. I want to rile him up. Some, albeit childish, part of me delights in seeing the side of him that only I bear witness to.

In truth, I want to give in. I want Finn to dominate me completely. I’m ready for him to take what he wants.

“I want no other man to have you,” Finn growls, his voice low but fierce, each word vibrating with raw intensity. “I want all of you. I want my scent so profoundly embedded in you that, even in my absence, they’d scent my claim on every part of you I’ve touched.”

His words send a shiver racing down my spine, the possessiveness igniting a fire in me I can’t ignore. His hand releases my hair, the tension easing only for him to slide his hands down to my waist. His fingers trace slow, deliberate circles on my stomach, a tenderness that contrasts with the rough edge of his voice and the hunger in his touch. The contradiction only heightens the need building inside me, making every nerve feel alive under his fingertips.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, the tension between us sharp enough to cut. Then, slowly, he presses his forehead to mine. “If I give in now—” he rasps, his breath ragged. “I’ll take you apart, piece by piece, and I won’t stop until ye’re ruined for me.”

I press until I’m a whisper away from his lips. “Then ruin me, Finn.”

His hands move with sure and steady intent, gripping my rear possessively as he grinds into me. The contact sends a jolt through me, igniting the ache already pooling deep inside.

And then, at last, he claims me.

Finn crashes his mouth to mine, a groan tearing from his chest like it’s been caged for years. It reverberates through me—through skin, through bone—until I feel it in the deepest parts of me, where longing has lived in silence. His kiss is not careful. It’s consuming. Devouring. A beautiful ruin. He kisses like he’s starving and terrified this might be the only taste he’ll ever get.

The first touch of his lips is indescribable. I press closer, needing more, needing him. His tongue brushes the seam of my mouth, seeking entrance not with aggression, but with an aching urgency that makes me dizzy.

My hands tangle in his hair, desperate to anchor myself. With a low, broken sound, he lifts me like I weigh nothing at all. Instinct takes over—I wrap my legs around his waist, our bodies aligning in a way that leaves no air, no reason between us. I chase the contact I’ve craved for so long, desperate for the connection, overwhelming all rational thinking.

With ruthless determination, he presses my back against the wall, the cool stone biting through the fabric of my dress—a stark contrast to the searing heat of his body against mine

He shifts against me, his hips rolling in a slow, deliberate grind, eliciting a loud moan from deep within me. The pressure is unbearable, exquisite—his need meeting mine in a rhythm that makes the world fall away. A moan builds in my throat, raw and desperate, but before the sound escapes, his hand gently covers my mouth.

His eyes find mine, burning with something feral and protective, as if to remind me we’re not alone. But the danger, the sheer risk of it, only fuels the fire.

Nothing matters but this—him and I, tangled in the heat of our desire.

He lowers his hand from my mouth, fingers trailing down my jaw. One arm braces beside my head, the other wraps tight around my waist, anchoring me to him, to this.

I can feel him—hard, ready—pressing against my centre with a pressure that sends shockwaves through my core. My breath stutters, caught between desire and disbelief.

His gaze drops between us, and something shifts—a quiet, dangerous certainty. When his eyes meet mine again, they burn with a promise.

“Triona,” he mutters, brogue thick with desire, “are you bare under yer dress?”

“Aye.” I breathe, the word a sultry whisper.

“By all the gods, you’re drenched for me,” he rasps, his statement a sinful praise.

His hand glides lower, following the dip of my waist, his fingers barely ghosting over my skin. Each slow inch is deliberate, a silent plea for permission. His eyes burn into mine, waiting—demanding.

The instant his thumb grazes that aching bundle of nerves, pleasure sears through me. My body jolts, arching against him, chasing the friction I crave.

I am absolutely crazed for this man.

His touch is consuming every inch of my being. There is only his mouth, his tongue, his eager hands, and the strength of his well-sculpted and taut body pressing against me.

I run my tongue along the seam of his lips, and he eagerly grants me access. It feels as if I know every part of his body without ever having touched him before; every movement feels instinctual.

“Triona,” Finn groans, in a voice unlike his own, but one I know I’d beg to hear again. He thrusts his hips between mine with unparalleled fervour as I continue to writhe and lose all sense of control. His arms flex with each powerful movement as he continues massaging my centre.