Page 44 of Say You Love Me

I grab Finity’s cheeks, look at her for approval and then bring her mouth to mine, sliding our tongues together until one of the pills is in my mouth and the other is in hers.

“Swallow,” I say, pulling back from her.

She swallows as Rylee tosses the last one into his mouth. Within moments there’s something bolder and more aggressive about him. He pulls Finity away from me, winding his hands into her hair and crashing his lips against her. His kiss is desperate and raw, fueled with passion and longing.

The music changes. It gets faster, the beat heavier. Strobe lights illuminate them, plunging them from light to dark as their mouths crash together. It’s intoxicating to watch. Rylee’s hunger for her is so palpable I can almost taste it.

I pull Finity away. Her lips are bruised by him and I press mine against them, needing to feel the same rapture as Rylee.She comes to me eagerly and hungrily, her fingers clawing at my skin. Her dress feels like silk beneath my fingers as I run my hands all over her body.

I feel free.

I feel in control.

I feel like I’m the king of the fucking world.

Finity moves between us as we dance. We take turns, our hands exploring her body, our mouths exploring her skin, and when she’s not mine, I watch Rylee ravish her, knowing that the only reason he can touch her is because I want him to.

Every time his hands spread over her body, it ignites my hunger. I’ve been starved of the connection to my wife and by some strange logic, this man is giving it back to me.

Why is it that I can watch his hands on her and feel as though they are mine?

Why do I look into his eyes, see the pent-up lust, the longing, and feel it as if it’s my own?

Finity’s cheeks are flush, her eyes are glazed, the alcohol and pill has loosened her movements, and the way she dances, taking turns to slide her body over ours has the attention of everyone around us. They can’t keep their eyes off her.She’s magnetic, alluring, a siren enticing her prey. And prey we are. We are both at her mercy.Even though Rylee only touches her with my permission, it is Finity who controls it all, Finity who allows it.

But then I see someone in the crowd. Someone I know.

Ava.

She’s on the dance floor but she’s not moving. Her eyes are narrowed and glued to where Finity dances with Rylee, his hands running over her body possessively. Her face is twisted into a mixture of disgust and pleasure. I can almost see the thoughts racing through her head, wanting to tell me what my wife is up to. But then she raises her gaze and meets my eye. She sees me standing beside them, watching them, obviously turned on by them.

If I weren’t so high, I would probably respond differently. I would try to hide. Try to make up some excuse as to why I’m allowing another man to run his hands all over my wife’s body. But instead, I smile as I reach for Finity and draw her close to me. I keep my eyes on Ava as I kiss my wife, clutching at her ass, almost pulling her up my body. Ava’s eyes widen and I throw my head back in laughter. She’ll be too drunk to remember this anyway. She always gets too hammered.

“You want to get out of here?” I yell to the others.

Finity is still clinging onto me. Her hips push against my hardness, grinding herself over me as though she could get me off right here right now.

“Yes,” she breathes into my ear, before running her tongue up the side of my neck. She’s high. She’s drunk. And she’s desperate to please me.

I look at Rylee, raising a single brow. “You game?”

All he does is nod.

chapter twenty

THEN

~

HUDSON

Finity often comes to bed later than me. She wanders the house late at night, pacing back and forth between the living room and the kitchen. I fall asleep to the groans of the floorboards. I just about always wake when she finally creeps into bed. She does her best to be quiet, walking on tiptoes, opening the curtains just a crack so she can see by the light of the moon rather than turning on the light and disturbing me. And it’s because of this, that I’m woken by the sun peeking through that same crack. It casts a strip of light across her shoulder, turning it golden. Her hair can look auburn in the sunlight, as though it’s hidden warmth can only be illuminated by the rays of the sun.

She doesn’t stir as I shuffle across the bed. She’s lying on her side, facing the window, so I slide one hand under her arm, over the curve of her waist and rest it on the mound of her tummy. Under the pressure of my hand, I can feel the movement of the baby. Our baby. Yesterday we found out that we are going to have a little girl. A mini Finity. We spent the day scouring baby name books.

Finity wants something common and beautiful. Like Mia, Isabel, Amelia, or Sophie. But I think our girl deserves a name more like her mother’s. Something strong and strange. Something unique and interesting. Something that will make you want to repeat it.

Finity stretches in the bed. Her movement causes the baby to kick and I chuckle as I feel a heel, or maybe a hand or a knee try to push my hand away.

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