The High Price of Secrets(49)

                Outside it was growing dark and she pulled away to close the bedroom drapes. Even though there was no chance anyone could see them from the roadside, she wanted to close them in, to cocoon them in their own little world. He sat on the bed and toed off his loafers and shed his socks as she moved around, lighting the candles she’d placed throughout the room—just in case tonight would end this way.

                “Come here,” Finn said as he sat with his legs spread wide on the edge of the bed.

                Tamsyn moved between them, resting her hands on his shoulders. He flicked one nipple lightly with the tip of his finger.

                “A man could be forgiven for thinking he’s being seduced,” he said with a knowing smile.

                “A man could,” she agreed with a laugh, loving that even as her body wound tight as a drum, they could still find humor in their situation.

                “Should I be asking what your intentions are?”

                “Only if you’re man enough to hear them,” she teased, lifting her hands up to pull the pins from her hair, one by one, until it tumbled over her bare shoulder, tendrils teasing her breasts.

                She reached behind her to unzip her skirt, let it drop in a cascade of color and softness and kicked it away from her feet. Finn’s eyes roamed her body as she stood there, dressed only in a scrap of café au lait–colored lace and satin. The appreciation, the marvel on his face gave her a strength she’d never known she was capable of possessing.

                Emboldened, Tamsyn skimmed her hands over her belly and up over her rib cage, until she cupped her breasts in both hands. His eyes darkened, his tongue swept out to moisten his lips and she saw a tremor rock through him as she squeezed her nipples between thumbs and forefingers. Moisture pooled, hot and slick, at the apex of her thighs—a steady throb building there as she tweaked and pulled, caught in the spotlight of his stare.

                Finn’s hands went to the belt of his jeans, making fast—if unsteady—work of the buckle.

                “Too damn many clothes,” he said through clenched teeth, his eyes never straying from her body.

                In seconds he had unbuttoned his fly and shoved his jeans and boxers down over his hips. His erection sprang free, the rigid flesh jutting proudly from a nest of dark curls.

                “Man enough for you?” he asked, a tiny smile playing around his lips.

                She smiled in return, moving forward to straddle his thighs, her hands at his shoulders. She felt his length twitch against her.

                “Oh, I think you’ll do,” she answered, shifting so she could reach one hand between them.

                She wrapped her fingers around the thick, hot shaft and stroked him from base to tip, then shifted slightly so she could reach the small box she’d secreted under her pillow after remaking her bed today. “I think we need to move on to the next step.”

                “I think you’re right and I see you’re prepared.”

                She tapped herself on the chest with one finger. “Event manager, I’m always prepared.”

                He started to speak, but his words were lost on a hiss of air as she began to apply a condom, adroitly smoothing the thin sheath over his penis.

                “I’m an event?” he asked, keeping things light even though his voice was strained.

                “No,” she corrected him, moving her hips so he was positioned at her entrance. “We are.”