Page 8 of Home Free

His hands roamed her back and came to rest on her ass as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She met the parry of his tongue with her own and a rush of heat bloomed in her stomach.

They’d made love twice since dinner, but she already wanted him again.

She moved on top of him and felt a similar sentiment in the rigidness of his shaft, pressed against her stomach. Their kiss turned feverish, Finn’s hands sliding up her body to cup her face in his hands while he pillaged her mouth with his tongue.

“I never stop wanting you,” he whispered between kisses.

She reached down and took hold of his swollen cock. He groaned, rolling on top of her and positioning himself between her thighs.

“I want you inside me,” she gasped. “Now.”

She was wet and ready for him, clamoring for the completion of their merged bodies.

He lowered his head to one of her nipples and took it in his mouth, sucking as he plunged into her.

She cried out at the exquisite pleasure of it and breathed in his sigh, a mixture of pleasure and relief that felt like a letting down of his burden.

It wasn’t a permanent fix for the shame and anger that was torturing him from the inside out.

But it was what she could do. It was something.

5

Finn listened to the sound of Elise’s breathing, making sure it was slow and steady before easing out from under her naked body. He didn’t want to leave.

He had to leave.

He pulled on his sweatpants and looked down at her, an angel laying on her stomach in his bed. Her golden hair was spread over the mattress, the sheet just covering the swell of her ass, the taper of her waist giving way to her strong, elegant back.

He loved her so fucking much.

The realization never failed to terrify him, and he padded quietly from the bedroom, easing the door shut without a sound as he stepped into the hallway.

Ronan’s bedroom door was closed, a series of sconces with sensors casting dim light through the hall. The house was quiet, and Finn walked carefully to the steps, grateful for the new construction of the house.

In the original Murphy house, the one they’d all grown up in, the one their mother had died in, the third and sixth step squeaked unless you stepped on the edge of the tread, something they’d all learned trying to sneak up and down the stairs for various reasons.

It had been annoying when Finn had been a kid, but now he looked fondly back on those quirks, symbols of a childhood where, for awhile at least, they had all felt safe and loved, cocooned in the old house with creaky floors and plaster walls and a water heater that never made it through more than one shower before needing to refill.

The house in the Berkshires was another symbol of how much had changed. His brothers didn’t live in a quirky old house anymore. Now they lived like kings — the massive compound in Boston, properties all over the world, the rustic but luxurious home in the mountains where they had been staying for the past three weeks.

He stepped off the stairs and headed for the liquor cabinet in the great room. His brothers were beer drinkers, but Finn wanted something else.

Something stronger.

Something to make him capable of falling asleep next to Elise without picturing the battered face of Eudorus, without wanting to go to the garage to work on him some more.

He looked at the labels on the bottles, wishing he had a glass of horilka, the homemade moonshine Fedir and his friends had made in Ukraine, or maybe some ouzo, which he’d developed a taste for when he’d lived in Greece.

He settled for whiskey, pouring an inch of the amber liquid into one of the glasses he found in the cabinet.

He took a drink and relished the burn of it in the back of his throat as he walked to the wall of windows overlooking the woods surrounding the house. The outdoor lights were off — they would come on if something tripped the sensors — but the moon was half full, illuminating the short lawn leading to the tree line.

He thought about the night Achilles’ men had invaded the property searching for the sample: the thump of the helicopter as it descended on the lawn, the men streaming onto the grass and into the house, the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood as gunfire tore through the night.

Looking at the property now, it was like that night had never happened, but it had, and they had Eudorus as a prisoner to prove it.

Not that it had done them any good, he thought bitterly.

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