Page 233 of Intense
I let out a giggle.
“You did. But I’d still have to try out alien dick if I ever get the chance.”
He tuts and removes his hand.
“Look, if my wife really, really wants it, I might let it slide, just once.”
“Aw. That’s so sweet of you, letting me go after my dreams.”
His eyes darken.
“I don’t share, love. Please don’t ever ask me to. My only fucking hard limit here.”
I smile and run my fingers along his cheek.
“I don’t want, need, or desire anyone else other than my husband. You complete me.”
The cars start to move ahead, and I shift into gear. Driving on the wrong side of the road feels weird, but I’m getting the hang of it.
I take a left, and the huge, very old-looking building is in my sights. Almost like a royal estate like you see on TV.
“Keep going round the building and park around the back,” Finn directs me.
Once I find a space, I cut the engine.
“The man you’re going to see me be in there, he’s the one who has to protect his family. Okay?”
I thread my fingers through his.
“Finn, I want you to show me every version of you there is. I’m not scared.”
His gaze meets mine, and his face softens.
“Perhaps we will have time to get a dance in,” he says.
My heart races.
“I thought Dr. Quinn doesn’t do dancing?” I tease.
“I don’t. But, for you, I will. If it makes you smile.”
I lean over, and his lips capture mine.
“I’ve never been happier, Finn,” I tell him honestly.
“Me neither, love.”
The second Finn opens my door, the cool London night cuts into me. I place my hand in his, expecting the same warmth from the car, but what I get instead makes me falter.
His grip isn’t tender now. It’s firm and commanding, like he’s guiding me into enemy territory. Which, I guess, he is.
I step out, my heels crunching against the gravel, and my chest tightens as I take in the scene. The mansion looms like something out of a gothic fairytale, grand and lit to perfection, but its beauty feels like a trap. Like every chandelier inside is waiting to shatter to pieces.
Finn closes the door behind me, his shoulders squaring as he straightens to his full height. And in that instant, he changes.
The husband who teased me about chocolate strawberries and alien dick is gone. His face hardens, his eyes turn to ice, and I can practically see him slip into his role. The cold, calculating, and untouchable version of him is here. And I love him just as much.
My pulse stutters because I realize this is what he meant. The version of him that has to exist to keep me safe.
