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)
“Is it my tone?” he asked, stomach clenching.
“Do you actually believe what you’re saying?”
“Of course. It’s my platform.”
“Do you believe it? Not politically. As a man?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t feel like you do.”
“I … I don’t know what to do with that.”
“It feels like you’ve practiced that answer a thousand times.”
“I have.”
“That’s the problem. People don’t want to hear the right words. They want something real.”
Finn sighed, shaking his head. “I am real. This is real. This is who I am.”
“Okay,” she said, turning and walking away.
There was a moment of defeat before she was at the doorway again, this time holding up an old photo album he hadn’t seen in years.
“Then who is he?” she asked, opening to a page that featured a teenaged version of himself, decked out in merch for a cheesy show he’d been obsessed with, holding up the action figure his mother had gotten him for his birthday.
His face was unguarded. His eyes were bright. His smile so wide, it made his eyes small.
“I don’t know anymore,” Finn admitted, feeling the tug of regret. He’d spent so many years becoming the man he now was. He didn’t recognize who he used to be.
“Maybe you should try to find him again,” she said, closing the album. “Because he is who people want to know. They can relate to him. They like the suit,” she added, putting the album down. “But they want to see the man under it.”
“Oh, yeah?” he asked, lips curving up, eyes going bright.
“Not like that,” Iris said with a tinkling laugh. “Though, I bet posing for one of those shirtless calendars wouldn’t hurt your chances.” Her gaze tracked down him, then back up. “I mean, why spend all that time in the gym if no one is going to see the hard work?”
Her eyes had gone heated as they quickly stole another look at his abs.
The memories of the night before came back with a vengeance. Her soft skin, her soft sighs, the way she cried out when he was inside her.
Before he could even try to fight it, he felt himself getting hard. And the towel wrapped around his waist? It was doing nothing to hide the issue.
“Maybe you should—” she started, but her gaze slid down again, this time eyeing the shape of his hard length.
“I should what?” he asked, desire pouring through his veins as he saw her pupils blown wide when her eyes found his again. “Drop this towel, push you against this counter, and let you decide if the way I make you feel is fake?”
A sweet little whimper escaped her at that.
He knew he had her; he would bet good money that if he reached out and slipped his hands into her pants right then, he would find her wet and aching for him.
Reaching out, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her into the bathroom, then slamming the door.
“Your back …” Iris said as he pressed her back against the sink cabinet.
“To hell with my back,” he said just before his lips were on hers.
His hand curled around her jaw as he took the kiss deeper, chasing the taste of her.
His other hand slid up under the hem of her shirt, closing around her breast.
She gasped, and he used the moment to slip inside, tongue stroking over hers, coaxing another moan.
Against his palm, her nipple twisted tighter, inviting his fingers to circle, roll, and pinch.
Her hands slid down the bare skin of his back. Finding the towel, she pulled until the material slid down.
Her fingers were greedy then, palming his ass, digging in.
As her teeth nipped his lower lip, her hands slid to his hips. Then forward. Down.
Her palm curled around his hard length, dragging a groan out of him and a needy little whimper out of her.
His breath stuttered as she started to stroke him. It was slow at first. But when his head fell to her shoulder, she grew bolder, moving faster, hand twisting, driving him up, leaving him rocking into her hand as the need overtook him.
Her own need was growing, though, and her free hand moved out, grabbing his, and pressing it between her thighs.
He wasted no time, sliding under the material to touch her without any barriers, finding her hot and slick for him.
His thumb worked her clit as two of his fingers slipped inside her.
There was no stopping the groan that escaped him when her walls tightened around his fingers.
There was nothing tentative or gentle about him then. He thrust hard and fast, driving her up as she was doing to him.
“Finn, please,” Iris whimpered, her hips rocking restlessly against his palm. Needing more. Needing him.
He reached past her toward the medicine cabinet, grabbing a foil out of the box, then brushing her hand away from his length.
When his fingers slid out of her, she let out a little whimper that nearly undid him.