Page 46 of Finn

A small growl leaves his throat. “Mmm, that mouth. It fucking gets me hard every damn time.” He punctuates his statement by grinding his hips into my ass.

My head turns slightly to look him in the eye when I spot flecks of glitter on his cheek. I turn my body halfway in his arms, which are still pinning me to the counter, and see it on his neck as well.

“I’m surprised you can still get it up after the night you’ve apparently had.”

I buck my hips back hard, forcing him away from me, and he lets out a grunt of pain.

“Jesus Christ, woman. What the hell was that for?”

“Oh, I don’t know maybe the fact that you stayed out all night without a simple text letting me know you weren’t coming home.”

“I’m sor—”

“Or maybe when you do, you have glitter all over your body like you’ve been fucking some cheap whore in the back of a strip club!”

I’ve seen this little scene play out one too many times in my life with Orlando. I’ll be damned if I put myself through it again.

Finn’s hand goes to his neck, and he wipes it before looking at his hand. “For fuck’s sake.”

He marches over to the kitchen sink, grabbing a paper towel and wetting it, then rubbing it over his neck.

“Don’t fucking bother. I already saw it.”

“Alessia, I swear on everything, this is not what it looks like.”

I scoff and shake my head, my lip curled in disgust. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

Finn holds up both palms in a surrendering gesture. “Okay, I know that’s what any man in my position would say. I swear, I wasn’t fucking any whores, but I was at a strip club.”

My mouth opens and closes like a fucking fish, not believing he’s so brazenly admitting to it. “I don’t know if I should be mad you went or thankful you’re actually being honest about something.”

“Hey,” he barks. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“The hell you haven’t! All that bullshit you spewed at the boathouse yesterday and in this very house, this very kitchen, only hours ago. Then you take off to a strip club and have the audacity to have a dancer’s glitter still on you when you come home,” I yell; deciding mad is definitely the emotion I’m going with.

“First off.” Finn forcefully tosses the damp towel into the trash then leans against the counter, clutching the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles are turning white. “I meant every word I said to you yesterday and every day before that. Including the words I said when we took our vows, which I believe I’ve already made clear. Secondly, I will not be standing in my kitchen and be compared to another man who you obviously had a bad experience with, Alessia. I am my own fucking man, and I don’t lie or cheat. Period. If you had let me finish, I would have told you that Cillian has a friend who works in a club and saw Carlo Cataldi there. She knew Cillian was looking for him, so she called to let him know. He went into a back room before we got there and didn’t come out again. Once we were certain he’d left and we missed him, we went to the casino and watched hours of boring-ass camera footage. We were searching for anyone we knew that he could’ve been meeting with or any clues as to where he’s been hiding or who’s been hiding him. I did not get a lap dance or anything of the sort, even though I was asked a few times, which is where the glitter is probably from. Dancers tend to get a little handsy when they’re trying to convince you to drop that kind of cash.”

Finn is breathing hard as he pushes off the counter opposite me and steps forward. This time I allow him into my personal space, though I’m still unsure if it's the best idea. “I didn’t call because I didn’t think of it, and you have every right to be upset about that. This is just as new to me as it is to you. Obviously, I need to consider that you were worried—”

“I wasn’t worried,” I say, cutting him off. I was, but like hell am I going to admit that to him.

His lips quirk in a smile as he backs me against the counter again, caging me between his arms but not touching me yet.

“Fine. I need to consider that you have feelings that have nothing to do with you worrying about me being out all night. I’ll try to do better in the future. But you need to remember who you married, wife. And it isn’t some piece-of-shit capo with something to prove to his buddies by going and getting his dick sucked at strip joints instead of doing everything in his power to get home to you.”

I lift my chin and stare my husband in the eye. “Fine. I’ll work on it.”

He nods and has that fucking smirk on his face. “Fine.”

As soon as he leans down to swipe a kiss on my mouth, a throat clears behind him.

“Am I interrupting?” Enzo asks with his gym bag in his hand.

“Yes,” Finn says at the same time I tell him no.

Enzo looks between us, and I duck under Finn’s arm, needing a touch of space.

“Good news. Finn’s back in time for a workout,” I say, looking between both men.

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