Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Only then did his movements pick up pace. Every brush of touch was a tide rising, every moan that escaped her the sound of waves cresting.
“Finn,” she whimpered, her hips rocking against his touch, begging—demanding—more.
Finn was happy to give her exactly what he sensed she needed.
Two of his fingers skimmed down, then slipped inside her.
He pressed her more firmly against the wall like he was bracing her for a storm as his fingers started to thrust.
The need was swelling, driving her up higher and higher, leaving her clinging to him, bracing for the fall, for the crash.
Her walls tightened around his fingers, dragging a groan out of Finn as his thumb continued to circle, as his fingers thrust.
“There you go,” he murmured. His voice was both rough and soft at the same time as her body tensed, as her head tilted up and a long moan escaped her.
The climax moved through her, a deep, throbbing pleasure that pulled her under the surface over and over, leaving her clinging to him, letting him anchor her as the waves kept pulling her under.
Her head fell into Finn’s chest, breathing in the scent of him that she’d grown so accustomed to.
She hadn’t known the notes at first, being earth scents.
She knew them then: bergamot, sandalwood, and vetiver.
They’re the most universally liked scents, Finn had told her when she’d mentioned his cologne.
That alone was enough to break the spell of her post-pleasure contentedness.
What was she doing?
How could she let Finn, of all humans, touch her that way?
She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand from between her thighs. Then shoved her hands against his chest for good measure.
She couldn’t blame him. She knew that logically. She’d wanted that. She’d encouraged it.
She was madder at herself than anything.
“Iris …” Finn called, gently grabbing her wrist as she started toward the bathroom again.
Was that regret in his voice? Remorse? Confusion? A combination of all three, maybe.
“That’s never happening again,” she told him, clearing his conscience but making it clear that it was a momentary lapse in judgment.
She closed herself in the bathroom, slumping against the door and trying to pull herself together.
She wasn’t supposed to like him. That hadn’t been part of the deal. She was supposed to sabotage the engagement, not sink into his touch like it was a riptide dragging her under. Worse still, she didn’t even know who she liked. The real Finn? The one who touched her like she mattered? Or The Suit Finn, built from campaign promises and perfect smiles?
Her feelings had always been a mess, but now her body had joined the rebellion as well.
And tonight, she had to fake a fairy-tale romance, knowing it was all lies. Knowing her skin still tingled from the truth.
Both her body and mind felt tugged in a dozen different directions.
On the one hand, she had wanted that more than she even wanted to admit to herself, had enjoyed every second of it. But on the other … what in deep-sea disaster was that?
Yes, Finn was an almost devastatingly good-looking man. And, sure, she could understand her body having a biological attraction to him physically.
But that face and body of his belonged to a man who was more political talking points than personality.
Her desire shouldn’t have been able to overpower her common sense. Or standards.
That was it.
No more spicy books.
No matter how much she loved them.
The last thing she needed was to let that happen again.
As it was, she had no idea how she was going to be able to go out to dinner with him and pretend to be all lovey-dovey—to sit across from him at a table, all the while knowing that just hours before, he’d had his hand between her thighs; he’d felt her falling apart for him.
This was going to be a nightmare.
But there was no way out of it now.
12
Iris
“Where is my sweet sea spawn?” Monty called as Iris stood in front of the bathroom mirror, fully dressed but stalling for time.
“Getting ready to go out for our first official date,” Finn told the pelican. “Do you think you could … nudge her along for me? We really need to get going if we want to keep our reservation.”
“Beauty cannot be rushed,” Monty said dramatically. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
Iris heard the flap of his feet down the hallway.
“Darling, your human is twitching. And you are beautiful enough.”
Iris opened the door, getting a whistle out of the bird—who was now wearing a ridiculously loud turquoise vest.
His gaze moved over her floor-length baby-pink dress with its sweetheart neckline, thin straps, and dainty floral embroidered design.
But the second his gaze got to her face, his head cocked to the side.
“What happened?”
There was a lot she shared with Monty. Her intimate life was not one of them. At least not in detail.