Adele
“This place is not what I expected,” I said, rolling over and nuzzling against Finn’s chest. His thick, hairy, inked chest. If I hadn’t spent the night getting fucked six ways to Sunday, I’d be freaking out.
But I was too tired and far too relaxed after all those orgasms to work myself into a proper panic.
Instead, I settled for mild irritation and moderate curiosity.
This man had now been inside me several times.
Thus, I probably needed to know more about him.
“Mind if a grab a T-shirt?” I asked.
“Second drawer.”
Completely naked, I climbed out of bed and ran one hand along the dark wood of the dresser. A few framed photos sat on top, along with a small, ornate box.
After I’d plucked a clean T-shirt from his drawer, I turned and took in the room from this vantage point. As I assessed the space, I caught the way his eyes were locked on me.
“Wow, that’s hot,” he said, sitting up and pushing his hair out of his face.
I could say the same thing about him. Though I’d already determined he was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen, in the light of day, he was even sexier.
Yet he was humble, almost to a fault. He was an enigma, looking the way he did and feeling so deeply.
At first, I thought the orgasms had scrambled my brain, but it turned out it was the man dispensing them.
“What’s this?” I asked, looking at the beautiful box displayed alongside a photo of him in uniform. In it, he was holding a baby I could only assume was Merry and was flanked by Alicia and his mom.
“Nothing.” His response was short, almost curt, and so unlike him.
“Can I open it?”
He shrugged and dropped his gaze to the sheet covering his lap. Now that piqued my curiosity.
The box fit in the palm of my hand and was made of thick, lacquered wood. When I pried open the heavy top, I found the inside lined with plush velvet. And nestled right in the middle was a medal in the shape of a cross hanging on a blue and white ribbon with a red stripe down the middle.
A lump formed in my throat. This was some kind of precious military medal. “Finn, what is this?” I asked, turning back to him.
He was reclined in the bed, one hand behind his head and all the muscles of his delicious torso on display. “It’s the Distinguished Flying Cross,” he said in a tone far too nonchalant for the implications I assumed came along with this medal.
“And it’s yours?”
“Yup.”
“Seems like a pretty big deal. Is this the kind of thing the Navy hands out to everybody? A participation award?”
He cocked a brow and huffed. “No, but it’s not a big deal.”
“Hmm…” I tapped my chin and set the box down on the dresser gently. Then I crawled toward him on the bed until we were face to face and I was straddling him on my hands and knees. “If I were to ask your mom about this,” I said, dropping a kiss to his lips, “what would she say?”
He laughed, making the ink on his chest and arms ripple.
“She would tell you she flew down to DC for the ceremony and that it’s awarded to aviators who have participated in acts of heroism or extraordinary achievement during aerial flight.
” One side of his mouth kicked up in a half grin.
“Then she’d show you the photos on her phone for an hour while she bragged about me. ”
I sat back on my knees, my heart in my throat. “I thought so. So you’re a war hero?”
He shrugged again, the infuriating man. “I can be your hero,” he teased with a wink.
“Stop goofing. I mean it. You’re amazing. Heroism in flight? Most guys who look badass are usually the least badass of all. But you, Finn Hebert, are the real deal.”
His face and neck flushed. Holy shit. This giant Viking lumberjack war hero was blushing.
“What, no snappy comeback?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nah. It feels good to hear you say that.”
All this time, I believed he was cocky and overconfident. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Taking his face in my hands, I leaned down and kissed him again. “I’ll say it every day. You made huge sacrifices. You risked your life for your country and its ideals. That makes you a fucking hero. This town should be throwing an annual parade in your honor.”
“Stop.” There went that flush again, and his eyes were downcast once more.
“I mean it.” I put a hand under his chin and forced him to look at me.
“Now that I know this? Watch out, Lovewell. Because you best believe I’ll be shoving it down Mayor Lambert’s throat after his shitty lack of loyalty at the diner the other day.
And Mrs. Leary. She wishes her deadbeat kids had half the bravery you do. I’ll be your one-woman hype squad.”
He sat up and pulled me closer. The thin white T-shirt I’d chosen offered very little protection from his heat and the way he manhandled me. In fact, I was ready to Hulk out and rip it off myself.
“Does that mean you want to be my girlfriend?” He pressed his lips to my neck at that spot behind my ear and dragged them lower, one inch at a time, erasing all rational thought from my mind.
Slipping his hands under the T-shirt, he dragged one up to my breast and kept the other firm on my hip.
God, this man and his goddamn hands. As a mechanic, I appreciated hands.
His were not only large and strong, but strangely graceful.
And he could use them. Capability like he possessed was the ultimate turn-on.
Especially the way he was using them now. Dipping two fingers inside me while simultaneously circling my clit with the pad of one thumb and rolling my nipple with the fingers of his other hand. I arched back, already desperate for more.
“Girlfriend?” I asked, already breathless as he bit gently on my other nipple and tugged. “I’ll be president of your fan club.”
He shifted me so I was straddling him and lined himself up.
Then, with his eyes locked on mine, he entered me, pulling me down as he lifted his hips.
So slow, so exquisite. I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped me when he was buried to the hilt.
This feeling, I couldn’t get enough of it.
He filled me up and possessed me completely.
Leaving no room for doubt that what we had was special.
“I don’t want a fan club.” He grunted as I circled my hips. “I want everything. I want it all, Adele.”
I threw my head back as his thumb found my clit again. I was already on edge, ready to detonate.
“But I know you’re not ready. So I’ll be patient. But you should know, I always get what I want.”
His bedhead was impressive. It had to be after nine, but I didn’t care. Usually, I was up early, accomplishing as much as I could on weekends. But I was beginning to see the appeal of lazy Sunday mornings.
“I’ll make some coffee,” he said, rubbing his eyes. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, giving me an eyeful of his round, muscular ass and tree trunk thighs.
After I relieved myself, I wandered around his place, still a bit orgasm drunk and not ready to join the real world.
The apartment was small, and the building old. But it was spotless. And not in the barren bachelor pad way. He had made an effort. The worn leather couch had throw pillows. Framed photos decorated the walls.
“This is the kitchen slash dining room slash living room slash homework lab,” he said, lifting one shoulder without meeting my gaze.
Two mismatched stools were tucked under the L-shaped bar. One fit perfectly in its place, but the other was much shorter.
“We found that one for me.” He nodded at the tiny stool and chuckled. “That way, Merry and I can comfortably eat together.”
“You’re pretty evolved.”
“I’m a thirty-five-year-old man. And I’m the father of a smart-as-hell ten-year-old. You think she’d let me get away with eating off paper plates or not decorating?”
“So I should thank Merry for civilizing you?”
“Nah. That would be my mother. I think you’d get along. She raised five boys. That woman takes no shit.”
I didn’t know Debbie Hebert. Obviously, I knew of her.
Tireless single mom to five giant boys and ex wife of Mitch Hebert, who had publicly humiliated her back in the day by impregnating his barely legal secretary.
I knew everything about everyone in Lovewell, but I had never really interacted with her.
“From what I’ve heard over the years, she’s a sweetheart.
A beloved nurse who always brings homemade chicken soup to sick friends. ”
“That chicken soup is pretty spectacular.” He laughed.
“Good to know.”
“I’ll have her make some for you.”
“Ha-ha, please,” I scoffed. “She’ll probably poison it.”
“No, she won’t. She’s got no skin in the game. She divorced my dad when I was eight. Trust me, she holds no loyalty to him whatsoever.”
That was a relief. For reasons I did not want to unpack at the moment, I already yearned for Mrs. Hebert to like me. To think I was good enough for her son. But I pushed that line of thinking aside, determined not to overthink what was going on between us, and focused on the kitchen.
The cabinets were light wood, and there were small splashes of blue everywhere. A blue towel, a spatula, even a fancy stand mixer.
The image of Finn and Merry together here in this cozy space made my heart melt in a way I didn’t think I’d ever experienced. “Can you show me more?” I asked, accepting the steaming mug he held out to me.
I followed him into a tiny room that housed an ornate day bed and a small dresser.
“This is Merry’s room.”
“I figured.”
“It’s not much,” he said, his tone suddenly defensive.
Bringing my coffee to my lips, I took in the lovely space. A large glittery chandelier hung over the bed, and the walls were covered in photos and kids’ artwork and Taylor Swift posters.
I stepped up to the bed and leaned forward, admiring a large photo collage. Finn was behind me, his presence warm and comforting.