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)
He made short work of the protection.
Then his hands were at the hem of her shirt, dragging it up and off.
“Perfect,” he murmured, his fingers skimming up her ribs, then across her breasts.
Iris wasn’t in the mood for teasing, though.
Her hand went to her own pants, pushing them and her panties down.
She turned, her ass rubbing against his hardness, making him twitch and pulse with need.
His head turned in at her neck as they both watched their reflections, a pink flush creeping across her chest as his lips teased up toward her ear.
“Finn …”
His hand slid down her front, slipping between her thighs. He shifted his hips, letting his hardness rock against her slick need as his finger teased her clit.
It wasn’t until she was grinding against him—her breathing fast, shallow huffs, her little mewling sounds filling the bathroom—that he shifted back, then slid inside her in one slow, deep thrust.
They both gasped at the sensation, then decided in unison that there was no going slow, no drawing it out.
He started to move, fast and deep.
Iris rocked back against him, demanding more.
Her arms went back and around his neck as his thumb worked her clit and his other hand went to her chest, squeezing, circling, and rolling, driving her closer and closer to the edge.
Iris’s breath got fast and erratic as she started to tighten around him.
“Breathe, baby,” he murmured, his lips at her neck. “There you go. You’re taking it so good for me.”
Another moan bubbled up and burst out of her, her whole body tensing and trembling as he got her right to the edge.
Then she fell over.
Crashed.
Shattered.
Fell apart.
With his name on her lips.
That sound, and the tensing of her walls around him over and over, had him coming with her, slamming hard and deep, groaning against her ear as he came.
They were still breathless and shaky, bodies close, hearts beating in time, when they both heard the chorus of voices on the other side of the door.
They broke apart, Iris leaning down to gather her clothes, then making a mad dash for the bedroom.
He stood alone in the bathroom a moment longer, heart still racing. Not just from the sex, but from the way she’d looked at him. Like she saw someone worth knowing, not just managing. It was heady, addictive, and terrifying.
Shaking his head, he cleaned up, then slipped into a pair of basketball shorts and a tee before making his way out.
By the time he made it back out, Iris was already there, making a cup of coffee, pretending like nothing had happened. But Finn knew that the flush on her cheeks was from him.
Just like the ache in his back again was from her.
“Those shots usually work like magic,” Henry said, frowning. “Well, we’re not that far from the filming now. Let’s go over—”
“No,” Iris said, turning away from where Arden was pulling out an outfit to show her.
“What?” Henry asked.
“No. No more going over anything. Look at him. He seems relaxed and human for a change. Don’t tense him all up again.”
Finn couldn’t help the flirty smile he tossed in her direction, both of them knowing who could take credit for his sudden change of demeanor.
Henry eyed him for a moment before deciding Iris was right. Miracles, it seemed, were possible.
The next thing they knew, they were in the back of a cab, and Finn was pulling Iris’s legs over his lap, finding her closeness grounding, reminding him not to get stuck in his head again.
Anytime during the interview when he found himself automatically slipping back into The Suit, Iris was right there, grabbing his knee or hand, playfully cutting him off mid-spiel to lighten the mood again.
When he watched the footage back later, he had to admit that it was the most real he’d ever looked and acted.
He could almost see the boy he’d been, waiting for rune-covered dragon statues, could see the young adult he’d once been, sitting in his college dorm, reading glow-in-the-dark shapeshifter comics. Hell, he could almost see his awkward, bumbling, red-faced attempts at charm.
The real Finn was there, front and center.
And the only person he could thank for that transformation was Iris.
23
Iris
She didn’t even get a chance to bask in the glory of her work.
The second they got back from filming the late-night show, Henry had about fifteen calls that Finn needed to return.
And she watched how all of the tension returned to Finn’s shoulders, how his whole demeanor so effortlessly shifted back to the political mannequin he’d spent so many years becoming.
Shelly’s words danced around her mind as she spent the next day alone, trying to focus on her reading but failing.
She’d been right that it was possible to bring out a side of Finn that he was keeping under wraps, whether he was conscious of it or not.