Page 5 of Emerald

"Mhmm." I shifted deliberately, letting my breasts brush against his chest. "I’m a little cold but okay.”

His gaze dropped like I'd known it would, taking in my sleep shirt and the tiny scrap of pink lace I called underwear. I heard his sharp intake of breath, saw his fingers flex against my back like he was physically stopping himself from grabbing a handful of my ass.

"Christ, princess," he rasped, his eyes flaring with unmistakable heat. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"So a t-shirt and panties do it for you?" I said, pressing even closer. I could feel every rock-hard inch of him against me.

“Christ Cara, we are in the middle of a situation here.”

“Do you really think they will get through these doors Finn? And the army you helped train will have it contained soon.” I shifted against him, reminding him I was only half dressed. “You can’t tell me you didn’t like our kiss last night Finn.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he closed his eyes like he was praying for strength. "We can't do this. I can't. Your father—"

"Isn't here," I finished for him. "He can't see us, Finn. No one can. It's just you and me and these four, thick walls."

He shuddered, his hands flexing on my hips. "Cara..."

"No one would ever know," I whispered, rising up on my tiptoes to put my lips at his ear. "It would be our little secret. Just another kiss Finn."

A low, guttural groan escaped him, and his grip tightened to the point of pain. "It's not that fucking simple and you know it."

"Isn't it?" I nipped at his earlobe, soothing the sting with my tongue. He jolted like I'd touched him with a live wire. "Tell me, Finn—did you enjoy the show tonight?"

He went utterly still against me, not even breathing. I smiled to myself, wicked satisfaction unfurling in my belly.

Gotcha.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said flatly, but I could hear the barely restrained hunger.

"Liar." I pulled back to look at him, letting my lips curve in a knowing smirk. "I heard you, you know. Lurking outside my door while I touched myself. Do you have any idea how hot that was? Knowing you were listening, imagining all the filthy things I was doing?"

His eyes blazed, his nostrils. "Cara, I'm warning you—"

"Poor Finn," I said, trailing a finger down his chest. "So noble, so controlled. It must have been torture, listening to me moan your name. Wondering if I was fucking myself on my fingers or one of my toys. If I was wishing it was your cock stretching me open, your hands on my tits, your tongue on my clit..."

He made a sound like I'd punched him, a wounded, desperate noise that went straight to my core. His hands were urgent on my hips now, his fingers digging into my skin like he was one second away from ripping my panties off and bending me over the nearest flat surface.

"Is this what you want?" he demanded hoarsely, his eyes wild and feverish on my face. "To drive me out of my fucking mind? To make me forget every oath, every promise, every shred of my self-control?"

"Yes," I breathed, holding his gaze without flinching. "I want you to lose control, Finn. I want you to take what you want, what we both want. I want you to fuck me until I can't remember my own name, let alone all the reasons this is supposed to be wrong."

For a moment, one heart-stopping moment, I thought he was going to do it. I saw the instant when he cracked. He yanked me flush against him with a snarled curse, his mouth hovering a millimeter from mine, his breath scalding my lips.

"Fuck, Cara, the things I want to do to you," he panted, his eyes squeezing shut like he couldn't stand to look at me. "You have no idea how dark I am. The need to …"

But before he could finish the words, before he could close the distance and kiss the ever-loving daylights out of me, the chirp of his earpiece cut through the charged air.

"All clear," a tinny voice announced, and just like that, the spell was broken. Reality crashed back in, bringing with it the cold, harsh light of duty and obligation.

Finn let me go like I'd burned him, stepping back with a quiet curse. He turned away from me, running an agitated hand through his hair as he listened to the voice in his ear.

"Understood," he said after a moment, his tone clipped and professional. "I have eyes on the package. Bringing her up now."

The package. That's all I was to him, in the end. A job, a responsibility. I felt cold all of a sudden. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold in the warmth of his touch, the memory of his hands on me.

"Cara." His voice was soft, almost gentle. I looked up to find him watching me, his expression unreadable. "We need to go. Your father's waiting."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I felt like I was going to shatter into a million pieces, and I'd be damned if I let him see it.