Chapter Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Seven
An hour later, after a very long, very soapy, very fun shower during which Fin got to show off how very good he was with his tongue, they were back in bed—her in one of his fresh Banshees jerseys, him in his underwear—looking at the day’s photos on her laptop.
They were propped up against the bedhead, their shoulders and arms pressed together.
Fin’s scalp still smarted from where she’d yanked his hair during the throes of her release.
He was sure she’d actually pulled some of it out.
And for sure he was going to have a huge purple bruise dead centre of his back where her heel had drummed as the orgasm had rocketed through her system.
He hadn’t known that was a potential outcome when he’d sunk to his knees and thrown her leg over his shoulder but he’d take it.
Considering how hard he’d made her come, he’d wear that sucker as a badge of honour.
The one thing he was determinedly not doing right now was psychoanalysing this very real development in their fake relationship.
He wasn’t going to go poking around inside his head trying to figure out what was going on here.
He wasn’t thinking about what it meant for them tomorrow or in the future—he was living in the moment.
So, apparently, was Sweeney, who hadn’t initiated any what’s happening conversations.
Maybe because she knew, as he did, that this thing right now was nothing but a product of lust. It hadn’t come from an emotional place like last night, when they’d spooned after their deep and meaningfuls at the diner.
Or that night two weeks ago at the lake after he’d been sucker-punched by his father’s letter.
It had been physical. Feral. Lust, pure and simple.
Lust that had been simmering since they’d first stared askance at the bed on Thursday night and had swelled over the course of their time here, amping up significantly during the drive in the mini-van, squished against each other, his smouldering libido sent into hyperdrive.
It was no wonder it had exploded into this mushroom cloud of lust as soon as the door had shut.
But that was okay because lust was utterly superficial and burned out quickly. It wasn’t about feelings or emotions, it was about physical gratification. And that could be found anywhere. With someone else. Or all alone by himself.
It didn’t mean anything.
And that’s how he and Sweeney could succumb to this and still be okay. Sure, it’d be weird for a while, but it wasn’t as though they saw each other every day. This wasn’t a heart thing that could end disastrously for them, it was a hormone thing.
‘That’s the shot.’
Fin tapped the screen, displaying a crisp image of Winnie, the net a blur behind her, her arms straight up in the air, her head back slightly, her face scrunched, her mouth wide open mid-thundering yaaaasss.
‘It’s encapsulated that moment to perfection,’ he added.
The overhead light was still on but the glow from the screen picked up the subtle play of emotion across Sweeney’s features as she studied the image.
Her hair was still in the messy knot she’d shoved it in prior to their shower and was bearing the marks of her ravagement in said shower, damp at the back, with multiple strands escaping in sexy tendrils that draped against her face and brushed her neck.
‘Yeah.’ She nodded at the screen. ‘I think it might be one of the best photos I’ve ever taken.’
Fin agreed wholeheartedly. Not that he’d seen every picture she’d ever taken, but it was the best one she’d taken for the Banshees. Curious, though, as to her reasons for the statement, he asked, ‘Because?’
‘It’s not this flat two-D image of scenery. It’s … joyous. You can feel her jubilation, her … freedom in that moment. Like she was letting go of something she maybe hadn’t consciously been able to let go of until she’d kicked that goal.’
Fin nodded as his gaze returned to the photo.
Winnie looked like a ray of sunshine had burst out of her chest and he smiled.
She hadn’t stopped signing, because of course the ravages of deep trauma were never erased in an instant, but the fact everybody on the team had been fine to keep communicating with Winnie the way she needed would be another healing step in her journey.
‘You’re really good at this people photography thing.’
She glanced sideways at him, placing the flats of four fingers to her chin before dropping them towards him as if mimicking a felled tree. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured.
He smiled, returning the sign. ‘Thank you.’
She tapped the arrow button, flipping through the sequence of that moment in order, frame by frame. ‘You going to keep it up? When you—’ He’d been about to say leave. When you leave. But the word stuck in his throat. ‘When you get back to work.’
‘Definitely.’ She nodded. ‘This whole experience has made me really want to explore portraiture in more depth.’
‘You mean like … wedding photography?’ Fin asked, forging an innocent smile.
‘Ha.’ She nudged his arms with hers, pushing him slightly. ‘You’re hysterical.’
Fin grinned. ‘I know.’
Ignoring him, she continued. ‘There’s always plenty of people wherever I go. I’ve just always been too busy taking pictures of the scenery and impatiently waiting for said people to vamoose so I can get my perfect shot.’
She laughed in a way that indicated she had some stories to tell in that regard.
‘It’s never been in my brief to photograph people, and giving clients what they ask for is what pays my bills.
But working on this project has made me see that people tell the story of the place, not just the scenery.
And I think that’s what appeals to humans most of all, even if we’re not conscious of it. ’
Fin chuckled at her passionate speech. ‘I bet you didn’t bank on a career epiphany when you came home.’
One eyebrow winged up as her gaze dropped to his bare chest before lifting again. ‘There’s quite a lot I didn’t bank on.’
And wasn’t that the truth.
She stared at him for long moments and Fin thought she might be going to say something about the situation.
Open a dialogue. But she just smiled and shut the laptop lid.
‘I’m busting,’ she announced as she slid it onto the bedside table and wriggled out of the bed.
‘Don’t go anywhere,’ she threw over her shoulder as she stood and stalked to the bathroom.
Fin watched her go, the hem of his jersey flirting with the curve of an ass cheek. Wild horses couldn’t have dragged him out of their bed.
Scooching down to lie flat, he tucked both his hands under his head and crossed his ankles, causing the sheet to ride a little lower on his hips, his eyes drifting shut on a wave of contentment.
Every inch of him was mellow with bone-deep satisfaction and he revelled in the warmth of well-exercised muscles and the knowledge that they still had a lot of night left.
Added bonus—he didn’t have to coach tomorrow.
To be on. He was just going to be a spectator along with the rest of the Banshees contingent who were heading to the grounds to watch the semis in the morning and the grand final match after lunch.
Which meant he could ogle Sweeney to his heart’s content, because what self-respecting fake fiancé wouldn’t?
It wasn’t till he heard a click that his eyes drifted open again, his gaze finding Sweeney standing at the end of the bed, looking at him through her camera. She’d pulled her hair out and it was now hanging loose around her shoulders, all sexily dishevelled.
‘You have sex hair,’ he said with a smile.
She grinned. ‘So do you.’ She snapped off a series of rapid-fire pictures. ‘Looks good on you.’
‘My shirt looks good on you.’ Removing his hands from under his head, he beckoned her with a crooked finger. ‘Now come here and let me take it off.’
Ignoring him, she ambled around to her side of the bed, the shutter clicking continuously.
Crouching, Sweeney snapped off some more pics.
Fin rolled his head to the side and looked directly into the lens.
Over the past few weeks she’d taken countless pictures of him on the pitch, both surrounded by kids and not, but this felt different.
As though she could see right into his heart, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to expose that to her when he had no clue what the hell was rattling around in there himself.
Grabbing her pillow, he plonked it over his face.
‘Spoilsport,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I’m just trying to explore portraiture a little more. Come on,’ she cajoled lightly. ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’
Well now, that was an offer he couldn’t refuse. Fin removed the pillow from his head and Sweeney snapped off some more pictures in quick succession. ‘You taking nudes now?’
Rising from her crouch, Sweeney slid a knee on the bed. ‘I think I’ll start with semi-nude.’
Her other knee joined its counterpart and she shuffled steadily closer, the lens pointing at him as the shutter click-click-clicked. He was already hard when she slid a thigh over his hips, planting her knee on the other side, still taking her photos as she straddled him.
Resigned to his fate, Fin curled his hands under his head again. ‘It seems the only person semi-nude here is me.’
She looked over the top of the camera and smiled at him for a beat before reaching for the hem of his jersey and whisking it up and off, switching the camera to the opposite hand as it slid off that arm.
‘Better?’
He gaped at her. She looked ah-mazing in his jersey but absolutely fucking sensational out of it. His gaze roved over the heavy fall of her breasts, the tight pucker of her nipples and the tiny pink bow decorating her underwear and sitting pretty just below her belly button.
She caught every moment of his thorough eye fucking through the lens of her camera, every filthy thought writ large across his face, and Fin didn’t care. Peeking around the camera this time, she grinned. ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she sing-songed.
Oh no she did not.
Quickly Fin snatched the camera, whisking it with ease from her unsuspecting hands. ‘Hey,’ she said on a laugh as he turned it on her.
Compared to the photographic expert currently proving herself an expert in keeping his dick exceptionally happy, Fin was a novice behind the lens. But he liked what he saw and snapped accordingly. She tried to wrest the camera back but he was too fast for her, pulling it out of her reach.
‘Fin,’ she warned, but ruined it by the merriment dancing in her eyes as she covered her chest with her arms.
‘Now who’s the spoilsport?’ he teased.
For a moment, Fin thought she was going to insist that he desist and was prepared to hand the camera back but then her expression changed, her chin jutted and she dropped her hands. ‘Like this?’ she asked.
Fuck. Yes. ‘Perfect,’ he murmured.
She posed for him then, straddled atop him, the soft centre of her pressed firm against the hard centre of him, her modesty falling away in increments as she became more and more comfortable being the subject for a change.
Bold, even, as she shoved her hands into her hair, thrusting her chest, arching her back, scooping up her breasts as if she was offering them to him and—yeah …
he was done with the nudie photography session.
But she was not, apparently, as he discarded the camera on the bed and vaulted up to suck a nipple into the hot, deep cavern of his mouth.
‘No,’ she panted as she pushed on his shoulders. ‘Wait.’
Fin relinquished his mouthful regretfully, falling back against the sheets, his belly taut with banked desire, his head fuzzy with lust.
‘One more.’ She grabbed the camera as she climbed off him to slide in next to him and pull up the sheets to cover herself. ‘Selfie?’ she asked, raising herself on an elbow, her other hand holding the camera out from them, the lens pointed in their direction.
Very much liking the sound of that, Fin nodded as he also raised himself up on his elbow. ‘Sure.’
Confident they were reasonably centred in the frame, they posed with their heads smooshed together, smiling then laughing as Sweeney’s trigger finger snapped what felt like a hundred pictures.
‘Should be something good amongst that lot,’ she said, finally satisfied as she reached across him and placed the camera on his bedside table.
‘Now.’ She settled back on her elbow. ‘Where were we?’
Fin grinned as he yanked at the sheet tucked under her arms, exposing her breasts to his view once again. ‘Here, I believe,’ he muttered, his salivary glands already responding to the swift peaking of her nipples.
‘Oh no.’ Sweeney pushed him onto his back as she moved to kneel between his legs, dragging the sheet down with her. ‘I think it’s your turn.’
Fin let out an unsteady breath as her fingers landed on the band of his underwear that was barely restraining his raging boner. She pulled then and the showy little fucker popped straight out, thudding hot and heavy against the swathe of flesh slung low between his hip bones.
‘Mmm,’ she hummed appreciatively, her gaze travelling all the way up his body and meeting his. ‘Perfect,’ she mimicked with a smile.
Then she lowered her head and licked him from root to tip and everything went hazy.