Page 109 of Scrum Heat

The kiss is soft, slow, and deliberate. We take our time with it, like neither of us wants to rush, but then she makes this sound—a small, needy thing in the back of her throat—and I lose whatever restraint I was pretending to have.

She gasps as I press her back toward the bed. Her fingers move from my hair to my shoulders as she sits down on the edge, pulling me down with her. My hands move to her thighs, thumbs dragging up the smooth skin there as she shivers and parts her lips.

“Finn.”

“I’ve got you,” I whisper. “Always.”

I kiss her with everything I’ve been holding back—all that heat and devotion and the way she’s been living rent-free in my skull. Her hands are under my shirt now, roaming up my stomach,fingers splayed like she’s memorising every inch. I groan into her mouth, then pull back just enough to yank the shirt off over my head and toss it aside.

Her eyes go wide, then hungry.

“Off,” I murmur, tugging at her cardigan.

She doesn’t hesitate.

The dress beneath is soft, and I swear, my brain short-circuits when I see how perfectly it hugs her body. I slide the straps off her shoulders, slow and purposeful, not breaking eye contact. She shivers again—and this time it’s not from the cold.

“You’re gorgeous,” I say, voice low and rough. “Completely unfair, actually.”

She blushes. “You’re literally sculpted. That’s not a fight you’ll win.”

“Oh, I’m not here to win,” I say, pressing her back onto the mattress as I crawl over her. “I’m here to ruin you.”

Her breath catches.

My mouth drags down the column of her throat, slow and hot. I nip at the edge of her collarbone, then soothe the sting with my tongue. Her hands find my shoulders, my arms, clinging like she’s trying to keep herself grounded, like I’m the only solid thing in the room.

She lifts her hips as I slip a hand under her dress and drag it up, baring her inch by inch.

“Finn,” she whispers again, voice shaky. “I—”

“I know,” I murmur, kissing the edge of her jaw. “You don’t have to say it. I’ve got you.”

I hook my fingers into her underwear and pull them down, slow enough to make her squirm. Then I settle between her thighs, spreading them gently with my hands and pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee, then higher, then higher still.

“You’ve been driving me insane,” I say, brushing my thumb over the crease where her thigh meets her hip. “Every time you laugh. Every time you walk into a room wearing one of our shirts. Every time you say my name like that.”

She lets out a breathy moan, hips shifting toward me.

“Say it again,” I murmur, kissing the spot just above her hipbone.

“Finn,” she breathes.

“Fuck.”

And then I kiss her perfect cunt—long and slow and deep, with tongue and intention and enough heat to set her alight. She gasps and arches and moans, and I don’t stop. I keep going until her thighs are trembling around my head and she’s panting my name like it’s the only word she knows.

And when she finally breaks—when her whole body tenses and then collapses under the weight of her orgasm—I crawl back up her body, settle my mouth against hers, and whisper, “You’re mine. You hear me?”

“Yours,” she nods. “God, Finn—I’myours.”

I barely have time to catch my breath before she flips us. One second I’m braced above her, dizzy on her taste, and the next I’m flat on my back with a lap full of the most determined omega in Alderbridge.

She straddles me with deliberate ease, her toned thighs bracketing mine, palms pressed to my chest, her dress bunched at her waist and her hair a wild halo.

“Frankie,” I breathe.

“Thought you said you had me?” she smirks down at me, rocking forward just enough to make my whole body twitch. “Because I feel likeI’vegotyou.”

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