Deeper Than Desire

Libby

Finn's hands slow and I can hear his inhale: uneven, rough. I've surprised him. Honestly? I've surprised me too. I never sleep with a guy on the first date. I'm too cautious, too structured.

Too repressed? I shake off the idea and I curl my fingers into his T-shirt, loving the hardness of his shoulders beneath the thin fabric. "This isn't dating," I mutter. "We're not strangers."

"God no."

"I want you." I pause, swallowing because the next words are going to be so hard to say: "I thought you wanted me?"

"More than anything." And his fingertips skim my jawline again. He touches me like I'm fragile—no, like I'm perfect. It makes me bold. I slide my arms between us and pull my tank top over my head, leaving me in just a red lace bra.

Finn sucks in another breath, eyes pinned to me, and I grin. I never knew how powerful undressing could feel.

"Then satisfy me," I whisper to him.

And feel his hard-on jerk between us.

His gaze meets mine and it's all intensity and promise and I go wet in a rush.

"Satisfy you?" Finn rubs against me, hitting that spot between my legs that always makes me moan. "Fuck yes, but first I want to make you beg."

I gasp, going even wetter.

"Do you like that?" He rubs me again, eyes lighting up when it earns him another moan. "You are the hottest thing I have ever seen."

And then he pulls me tight against him, carrying me toward my bedroom. He bangs the door open, crosses to the bed, and tosses me down. The tension from moments before is gone and I'm laughing and he's laughing and then he pulls off his T-shirt in one smooth movement and the intensity returns in a rush. It steals the air from my lungs. For the first time ever, I get to stare at how his broad, toned chest narrows into lickable abs, how the abs lead to the V of his lean hips.

"Like what you see?" His grin tells me he already knows I do.

"I like being able to look at you openly, not have to resort to peeking."

"Spying on me? Nice. Well, then fair's fair. Strip."

Heat flares on my cheeks. Maybe I'm not as bold as I thought I was. After all, this is Finn. He's the kind of gorgeous that makes women—and men—go stupid.

It's not the same thing, I remind myself, holding his gaze while my hands go to my jeans' button. It shouldn't be possible, but his grin widens. He likes it when I watch him watching me.

Good to know, I think and unbutton my jeans. I push them down, exposing the matching red lace thong underneath.

He rubs one hand over his mouth. "Did you dress for me?"

I shake my head. "I should probably say yes, but...I like pretty lingerie. I wear it for me."

Which is true. Wearing gorgeous lingerie under my usual student uniform of skinny jeans and an oversized sweater makes me feel more confident—like I'm more put together than I am. Lace panties, satin thongs, leather-trimmed bustiers, silk stockings, I love the way they feel against my skin, and honestly, I like the way they make me look. Like I'm someone desirable.

Like I'm someone who can make Finn Oliver go speechless.

And maybe I am because he hasn't said a word. I don't think he's even breathing right now as he stands over me, watching.