Page 69 of Business or Pleasure

“I’m going to make you so fucking wet?”

Yes. Yes, you are. “That—that works.”

It feels illicit, talking about this in public, even though no one can hear us. We’ve kept our lessons entirely in the bedroom until now, and I don’t know what it means that they’re spilling over into real life.

“What would you say to that?” he asks, and then he has the nerve to spin me again. When he brings me back against his chest, his grip is even tighter, breathing shallower.

Whatever I’m feeling has to be purely scientific, nothing else. The attraction is the simple chemistry of our cells, combined with the fact that we’ve seen each other out of clothes almost as frequently as we have with them on.

I try to gain back control, rocking my hips against his, savoring this power I have. Digging my nails into his shoulders. “That my panties are damp, and my nipples are aching, and I need to feel you inside me.” I drag out each sentence, speaking as slowly as I can. He’s hard against my stomach, so I press in even closer. “That I’ve been waiting for it all day, dying to take care of myself but knowing you’ll feel even better. But I’m worried I might come too fast when you finally touch me, so you’re going to have to tease me.”

He swallows down a growl.

“I’ll want you to go deep,” I continue, not fully recognizing the sound of my voice, “because that’s how I like being fucked. But you can’t start that way. You’re going to have to be gentle with me, even though I’ll be begging you. You think you can handle that?”

“Chandler.”

“Then you could tell her how she feels.” I’m certain he can hear my heart thudding against his. “How she tastes.”

“Mmm.” He seems to collect himself, his face millimeters from mine as his breath whispers across my skin. “I bet you taste so fucking sweet,” he says, mouth grazing my ear. His scent, that mix of earth and spice, utterly jamming my senses. “Ever since Seattle, I’ve been dying to lick you again.”

The room tilts. My entire body goes weightless. If he weren’t holding me up, I’m not sure I’d trust my legs.

Suddenly, the audience breaks into applause, and it takes me a few seconds to realize the song has ended.

I glance back up at Finn. “Should we get out of here?” I ask, and the fierceness in his gaze tells me exactly how he’s feeling.

He grabs my hand, leading me through the maze of people on the dance floor. As soon as he pays for our drinks, leaving a sizable tip, we trip out into the night, into the skinny alleyway next to the bar. Before I can ask if he wants to find a hotel somewhere, he has me pinned against the wall, chest to chest, hips to hips. Close enough to kiss.

But he doesn’t. Not yet.

“I thought I was gonna detonate in there,” he says against my neck, mouth burning a path along my jawline.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding him closer. Briefly, I’m reminded of our first night in Seattle, outside the bookstore. Only this time, I don’t want to move from this spot.

“Then we were doing it right.” I scrape my fingers along the back of his neck, up into his hair. “Tell me what else you want to do to me.” I have to make sure he has this down—for the sake of his education.

He gives me this look that turns me entirely liquid. “Whatever you say, professor.”

I drag his mouth down to mine, that dirty perfect mouth, swirling my tongue with his. It’s been too long since we kissed, even longer since it felt this desperate.

“I want to make you come so hard, you beg me to do it again,” he says, kissing my neck. My throat. “I think about it all the time.”

Fucking hell.

“Are you going to fuck me with your fingers? Your mouth?”

“Both,” he says against my skin. “Repeatedly. And often.”

He slides a knee between my legs, his hands dropping to my hips. An “oh” falls from my mouth as he guides me against his jeans, the seam in mine creating an exquisite kind of friction. Torturous and decadent all at once.

A sly smile. “Huh. Can’t say I’ve imagined this exact scenario.”

I laugh, despite how frenzied all of this feels. Then all humor leaves me as the sensation starts to build. I move against him faster, hooking my leg around his hips while he grips my thigh, pressing deeper into me.

The bulge in his jeans only makes me needier. I tighten my grip around the back of his neck, clutching at his hair, damp with exertion. His warm skin. His scent. He tilts me against him, fingers digging into my ass as we keep up this relentless rhythm. Determination is painted on his face, like not even an apocalypse could break his concentration.

He must notice my breaths coming quicker because he hoists me higher on his thigh. “That’s it,” he says. “God, I’ve missed you.”

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