Chapter 11 Chloe
CHLOE
The second Finn kicked the door shut behind us, I was on him.
I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and hauled him down to me, crushing my mouth against his like I'd been starving for it. Like I hadn't just spent the last hour kissing him under the stars. Like I would die if I didn't taste him right this second.
He made a sound low in his throat—surprise, hunger, need—and his hands found my hips, lifting me clean off the floor. I wrapped my legs around his waist on instinct, feeling the hard planes of his body press against every soft curve of mine.
"Bedroom," I gasped against his mouth.
"Working on it." His voice was rough, strained, like he was barely holding himself together. I loved that I could do that to him. This mountain of a man, this fierce protector, coming undone because of me.
He carried me down the hallway like I weighed nothing, his mouth never leaving mine, and when he finally lowered me onto his bed, I felt like I was coming home.
Finn stood over me, breathing hard, his dark eyes roaming over my body with an intensity that made my skin burn. The moonlight through the window carved shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips, the raw want in his expression.
"You're so goddamn beautiful," he said, his voice barely more than a rasp. "Do you know that? Every time I look at you, I can't believe you're real."
My heart clenched. This wasn't the Shady Meadows Finn—all heat and urgency and desperate need. This was something deeper. Something that made my eyes sting.
"Show me," I whispered. "Show me how beautiful you think I am."
Something shifted in his expression. A promise. A vow.
He reached down and pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, and God, I would never get tired of looking at him.
All that ink and muscle, the scars that told stories I was only beginning to learn, the dog tags that glinted in the low light.
He was a work of art—brutal and beautiful and mine.
He came down over me, bracing himself on his forearms, and started at my forehead. A soft kiss, barely a brush of lips. Then my temple. My cheekbone. The corner of my mouth.
"I'm going to take my time with you tonight," he murmured against my skin. "I'm going to worship every inch of this body until you forget your own name."
A shiver ran through me. "Finn..."
"Shh." He kissed the hollow of my throat, lingering there to feel my pulse flutter beneath his lips. "Let me."
His hands found the hem of my shirt, and he peeled it off me slowly, reverently, like he was unwrapping something precious. When he unclasped my bra and let it fall away, he just... looked. Stared at me like I was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen.
"Perfect," he breathed. Then his mouth was on me, hot and wet, tracing a path from my collarbone to the swell of my breast. When his lips closed around my nipple, I arched off the bed with a gasp.
He took his time. Sweet Lord, did he take his time. Licking, sucking, teasing one breast while his calloused hand kneaded the other. My fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to me, desperate little sounds escaping my throat that I couldn't have stopped if I'd tried.
"That's it, baby," he murmured against my skin, and the vibration of his voice made me moan. "Let me hear you."
He kissed his way down my stomach, pausing to worship every curve, every dip, every imperfection I'd ever been self-conscious about.
His tongue traced the line of my hip bone.
His teeth grazed my navel. By the time his fingers hooked in the waistband of my jeans, I was writhing beneath him, mindless with need.
"Finn, please—"
"Please what?" He looked up at me, those dark eyes glittering with wicked intent. "Tell me what you want."
"You. I want you. All of you."
"You have me." He unzipped my jeans and slid them down my legs, taking my panties with them. "But right now, I need to taste you. I've been thinking about it all night."
He settled between my thighs, his broad shoulders spreading me wide, and the first stroke of his tongue made me cry out. He groaned against me—actually groaned, like I was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted—and the sound vibrated through my core.
"Fuck, Chloe." His breath was hot against my slick flesh. "You're so wet for me."
"Only for you," I managed, my voice wrecked already. "Always for you."
He rewarded me with his mouth—licking, sucking, devouring.
His tongue circled my clit with devastating precision, then dipped inside me, fucking me with slow, deliberate strokes that made my thighs shake.
One thick finger joined his tongue, then two, curling to hit that spot that made stars explode behind my eyes.
"Finn!" My hips bucked against his face, chasing the pleasure, desperate for release. "Oh God, I'm—I can't—"
"Let go, baby." He sucked my clit hard, his fingers pumping faster. "Come for me. I want to feel it."
The orgasm crashed through me like a tidal wave—sudden and fierce and all-consuming.
I shattered around his fingers, my whole body convulsing, his name torn from my throat like a prayer.
He worked me through it, gentling his touch as the aftershocks rolled through me, murmuring praise against my trembling thigh.
"So beautiful," he said, kissing his way back up my body. "So fucking beautiful when you come."
I was still floating, boneless and breathless, when he settled his hips between my thighs. I could feel him—hard and thick and ready—pressed against my entrance, and a fresh wave of desire crashed through me.
"More," I demanded, wrapping my legs around his waist. "I need more. I need you inside me."
"Anything." He reached for the nightstand, fumbling for a condom with hands that weren't quite steady. "Anything you want. Everything."
I watched him roll it on, watched the way his jaw clenched with the effort of holding back, and something fierce and possessive surged through me. This man—this powerful, dangerous, beautiful man—was mine. All mine.
He positioned himself at my entrance and paused, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath mingling with my own.
"I love you," he said quietly. "I need you to know that. This isn't just sex. This is me giving you everything I have."
My heart cracked open. "I love you too. Now stop talking and fuck me like you mean it."
He laughed—a surprised, delighted sound—and then he thrust home.
The stretch of him filling me stole the breath from my lungs. He was big—bigger than anyone I'd been with—and my body had to work to accommodate him. But God, the fullness. The completeness. Like I'd been missing a piece of myself and finally found it.
"You okay?" His voice was strained, his muscles trembling with the effort of staying still.
"More than okay." I rolled my hips against him, pulling a groan from deep in his chest. "Move, Finn. Please move."
He pulled back slowly, then drove forward in one powerful thrust that made me see stars. Then again. And again. Building a rhythm that had us both gasping, both reaching for something just out of reach.
"Look at me," he demanded, and I forced my eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. "I want to see you. I want to watch you fall apart."
He shifted his angle, and suddenly every thrust was hitting that spot deep inside me, the one that made electricity crackle up my spine. I cried out, my nails raking down his back, leaving marks I hoped would last for days.
"Mine," he growled, punctuating the word with a deep, grinding thrust. "You're mine, Chloe. My old lady. My woman. Mine."
"Yours," I gasped. "All yours. Only yours."
Something savage flickered in his eyes, and his control snapped.
He drove into me harder, faster, his hips thrusting with an intensity that bordered on brutal.
The bed frame slammed against the wall. The sound of skin against skin filled the room.
I was moaning, screaming, begging—I didn't even know what I was saying anymore, only that I never wanted it to stop.
His hand slid between us, his thumb finding my clit and rubbing in tight circles. The dual sensation—him inside me, his fingers working my sensitive flesh—was too much. The pressure built and built, coiling tighter and tighter until I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel.
"Come with me," he ground out, his thrusts growing erratic. "Chloe—fuck—come with me—"
I shattered.
The orgasm ripped through me with a force that whited out my vision.
I screamed his name—actually screamed it—as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me.
I felt him follow a heartbeat later, his whole body going rigid as he buried himself deep and pulsed inside me, my name torn from his lips like a benediction.
We stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together, breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync. Finn's weight was heavy on top of me, but I didn't want him to move. I wanted to stay in this moment forever—connected, complete, utterly and irrevocably his.
Finally, he lifted his head and looked down at me. His hair was wild, his lips swollen from my kisses, his eyes soft in a way I'd never seen before.
"Hi," he said, and the tenderness in that single syllable made my heart flip over.
"Hi yourself." I reached up and traced the line of his jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble beneath my fingertips. "That was..."
"Yeah." He turned his head to kiss my palm. "It was."
He pulled out gently, dealt with the condom, and then gathered me against his chest like I was something precious. I nestled into him, letting his warmth seep into my bones, feeling his heartbeat slow beneath my cheek.
"I'm never letting you go," he murmured into my hair. "You know that, right? You're stuck with me now."
I smiled against his skin. "Promise?"
"Promise." His arms tightened around me. "Protect thine own. And you're mine to protect now. Forever."
Forever. The word should have scared me. A few weeks ago, it would have. But lying there in Finn's arms, with the moonlight spilling across his bed and the whole dangerous, beautiful world waiting outside his door, forever sounded like exactly what I wanted.
I tilted my head up and kissed him softly. "Forever," I agreed.
And I meant it with every cell in my body.