Page 14 of Unsteady: How to Fail at Flirting
I shake my head. “I mean, are you actually out of your mind?”
He stares down at me. My hand slides upward along the sinews of his forearm. I let my gaze flick downward, taking in the broad chest, the gentle smattering of hair that trails down the middle, over the soft curve of his stomach.
I flit my eyes back up to meet his.
He tips up the brim of my hard hat with a leather-gloved hand. “Completely.”
Things start hitting the floor, and it takes me a moment to realize that was him removing his work gloves, yanking out the cord of the nail gun, and tossing it into his oversized toolbox.
“Quitting for the day already?” I tease.
Finn turns back to me and doesn’t answer, but his thumb runs over my bottom lip.
My nipples harden.
“What are you doing?”
“You started it, Strawberry. With your flirting. You touching my arm like that. You’re getting real close and making my head all foggy.”
“It was only flirting.”
“Is flirting supposed to make me want to do this?”
I inhale sharply as Finn sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling it with his teeth. The unexpected move, and the pleasure that follows, makes me lightheaded.
I kiss back, pressing my hands to his hard trapezius muscles to keep steady on my feet.
One moment he’s sucking my bottom lip and the next, it’s a full-on kiss. Nothing short or sweet or teasing about it. Finn kisses like I’m his last meal, plunging his tongue into my mouth, bending me backward.
I give a little yelp when I feel I might topple over, and instantly Finn’s arm is curled around my waist, pulling me tight against him. His mouth tastes like peppermint gum. The scruff on his chin feels wonderful against my skin, promising so much more. Putting pictures in my head of what that scruff could do in other places. My breasts, my inner thighs…
He slows his penetrating tongue, letting me kiss him back.
I lick into his mouth, running my hands up over his shoulders, down to his collarbones, until I’m fully groping that sweaty chest.
Finn growls into my mouth.
I am fucking wet at 9 a.m. on a workday.
“What the hell are we doing?” I ask.
“Having fun,” he replies.
I can’t argue with that.
The way his tongue slides against mine, slowly, sensuously, makes me ache between my legs.
“You accuse me of flirting,” I say breathlessly, “But you’re the one working without a shirt on like a damn thirst trap.”
One of my hands wanders down his chest, petting the small patch of hair at the top of his stomach. It’s soft, and not a pelt, but just right. Perfect, in fact. I run the tips of my fingers through it, which must be something Finn really likes because his mouth attacks mine in another deep, wet kiss, claiming me with his tongue.
I try not to make a sound. I don’t want to sound like a shocked little virgin at every turn, but I can’t help it. I let out a moan that’s more of a squeak. God, all that muscle and apleasing little tummy. Someone built this one just the way I like it.
Finn pulls away and curses.
“What’s wrong?”
“The noises you make. Too fucking hot.”
