Page 114 of The Finish Line
“Fuck me,” she says, her voice raw with desire. I run my fingers through her silky hair, unable to hide my smirk. “Collecting more dividends?”
“Precisely, and I’m not in the mood for conversation, King.”
Chuckling, I lift her to my chest and claim her hungry mouth. A growl escapes my throat as I get lost in our kiss, in the feel of her tongue as it brushes against mine.
Any kiss we exchange has never been short of perfect, no matter the emotion behind it. She feeds me exactly how I need her to, without instruction or prompt. We’ve mapped each other’s bodies on an expert level, and reacquainting them fully the last two days has been nothing short of fucking paradise. The look in her eyes lets me know I left her hungry for far too long, a need I’m all too happy to remedy. Lifting her atop me, I stroke her wings as she runs her slit along the ridge of my cock before she guides me inside, sinking slowly until we lock.
Dominant need pulses through my veins, but it’s control I hand over as she bucks on top of me with the perfect amount of friction, just enough so if I thrust up, I’m rewarded in the best way.
“Tobias.” She licks her lips, placing her hands on my chest as she picks up her pace, long hair tickling my thighs when she throws her head back, the arch giving me the best imaginable view. Gripping her hips, I succumb to her tight, wet heat as we work together until I can’t take another second.
Flipping her, I see the satisfied spark in her eyes for getting the best of me as I hitch her thigh around my waist.
But she always has.
Life, as I knew it, was over the second I laid eyes on her. All former versions of me were erased when I exchanged hate for love. It would have been so much easier to hate her. At one point I did, and at times I still do because of what she’s capable of doing to me. But it’s the surrender that changed my life, changed me as a man, eased my mind, and filled my soul.
Loving her has ruined me, wounded me beyond comprehension.
Loving her has also changed my perception of what matters, of gravity, of my own personal truth, and for better or worse, aided in creating the man I’ve become.
End of.
Slowly I begin to burn through her, her moans fueling me, her lips worshiping, her eyes void of fear as her heart pounds beneath the flesh I cover with my kiss.
There’s not a breath of separation between us anymore. I don’t feel any space, just whole and fucking thankful. Thankful for my undoing, for the heart that pounds beneath me that makes breathing easier, eases the tension, and releases me from the trap of my mind. Chests together, I drive into her as she gasps out my name, pulling my hair with her fingers as her eyes stay locked with mine. My heart knocks back against hers just as steady, but it’s no longer begging for readmittance. The door is already open. With another call of my name, I grunt out my release inside her, pressing my jaw to her heaving chest, as I come down, and I feel it, the recognition of a destination I never thought I would find again: home.
Chapter Thirty
Tobias
Beau whines from where he lays at my feet, just as an icy gust of air slaps my face. Palming the mattress next to me, I come up empty as the cold wind whispers throughout the room, fully rousing me. It’s when I open my eyes and see the source—the bedroom window wide open—that I jerk to sit at the edge of the bed, my feet hitting the freezing hardwood as I reach for my Glock. In the next second I’m struck, the sting lingering on my jaw as I realize by what.
Snow.
Relief covers me as I release my gun back in the drawer and narrow my eyes as a mittened glove appears briefly on the ledge. A second later another ball sails through the window, smacking me in the chest—the malicious act followed by my Trésor’s maniacal laughter.
“You scared the fuck out of me, thanks for that. Your ass is mine.”
“Sorry,” she calls from just outside the window.
“Not sorry enough.”
I glare down at Beau, who begins lapping up the ice from the floor.
“You’re useless,” I scold. “Go eat her!”
Her laughter echoes through the bedroom as I walk over to the window, just as glittering dark-blue eyes clear the bottom of the frame. She smiles up at me from where she stands just below it, and I do the same just before I slam the window in her face and lock it, cutting off her, “Heeeey,” protest before I make my way back to bed.
And wait.
Not long after, I hear the telltale creak of the back door before soft booted footsteps pad through the house. Beau gives her away fully when he joins her where she lingers at the bedroom door, no doubt locked and loaded.
“I am sorry,” she says sincerely. “I wasn’t thinking like that.”
“You have to think like that,” I scold, “at all times, and you know this, and only today will I forgive you, but fair warning, Trésor, you throw one of those at me, I’m going to consider it a declaration of—”
I’m barely able to shield from the three speeding balls being hurled at me in rapid succession. I’m instantly on my feet as she screams, dropping the rest of her arsenal before turning on her booted feet and launching herself out of the door, hysterical laughter pouring from her lips. I can’t help my own chuckle as I chase her through the house, catching up with her in the living room and tackling her into the couch. She yelps as she falls back and struggles against me, her eyes shining with mischief.