Page 53 of Business or Pleasure

He moves closer to Hux, jabbing a finger at his chest.

We have super strength, super speed, and night vision. I can hear conversations happening a mile away. I can heal myself if I get hurt. And not to brag, but it’s just a fact—we’re more beautiful than the rest of you. Shinier hair, perfect skin, bigger muscles. Who wouldn’t want that?

HUX

How would you know what she wants?

CALEB

Because I’m the one who turned her.

chapter

fourteen

MEMPHIS, TN

The energy between us is different as dusk falls. Kinetic. My sleeve brushes Finn’s at least a half dozen times, and he forgets to drop his palm when it lands on my lower back for a few extra moments. After a walk to the waterfront, I ask if he’s ready to go back to the hotel and his breathy yes jolts my heart into a new rhythm. The evening is unseasonably warm for late September, the humid air filling my lungs and making me a little unsteady on my feet. No alcohol, just a steady shot of lust straight to my brain.

I switch on the lights in my room and empty the bag from the sex shop onto the bed. As nonchalantly as I can, I flip over the mystery novel on my nightstand. I’m not embarrassed of it; The Sourdough Slayer just isn’t the sexiest title.

Our next lesson was supposed to be oral sex, but there’s no reason we can’t spice it up. Another deviation from my outline, but an essential one.

Based on the way Finn’s eyeing our stash, he’s thinking the same thing. “It would be a shame if we didn’t test all these out,” he says, turning over a textured condom. “Make sure everything works.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

He reaches for the vibrator, pulling open the packaging. “Anything I should know before using this?”

“Start slow,” I say, even though I’m already eager to get his hands on me. “But otherwise... feel free to play around with it.”

“I fully intend to.” Then he places it on the nightstand, turning his attention back to me. “Soon,” he promises, sitting down on the bed, patting the spot next to him. It’s a small amount of direction, but my body thrills at the thought of him taking control— and knowing what to do.

“I liked today,” he continues, lifting a hand to run through my hair. My eyes slide shut at the gentle press of his fingertips. His other hand comes up to cup my jaw, tracing the curve of it before his thumb lands on my lower lip. “Thank you. For indulging me. Maybe I’d forgotten that I could have some fun, too.”

“This isn’t fun for you?” I part my lips to taste the salt of his skin. Give his thumb a few flicks of my tongue before I draw it into my mouth.

He groans as he watches me suck his thumb deeper, fist tightening in my hair. “I think you know exactly how this feels for me.” With a breathless urgency, he pulls his thumb from my mouth and covers my lips with his. “But tonight is about you.”

And I’m entirely too aroused to argue.

I love seeing him gain more confidence. We shed our clothes even quicker than that first night in Seattle; shirts, jeans, belts, underwear piling onto the floor. I discover a mole between his shoulder blades, just slightly off-center, before he props himself on his side, facing me, looking beautifully, intensely determined as he rakes his gaze over my body.

I love this, too, the hungry way he takes me in. So I tell him. Because this is all about communication.

“Yeah? Because I could do this all night, if you prefer,” he says, a lazy smile appearing on his face.

I shake my head, laughing, but by the time he runs his hand up my thigh and closer to where I want him, my breath stills in my lungs.

If this were our first time, I might be embarrassed by how needy I am, evidenced by the slickness he finds when his finger slides between my folds. I could get addicted to the way he reacts to the sounds of my body. The low scrape of his breath. The press of his face against my neck.

But in his enthusiasm, he goes a bit too fast, too soon.

“Gentler,” I say, nudging his arm with a few fingertips. “Softer.”

“Right, right, right. Sorry.” His touch turns featherlight, and I close my eyes, grip his shoulders. There.

He was clearly paying attention the other night, because now I can tell he’s mimicking my movements, sweeping his finger in an agonizing circle. He’s focused, waiting for my reactions before he changes his speed or pressure.

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