Page 33 of Scored

I brushed his lips with mine. “Whatever happens will be fine. I can handle myself with my cousin. I can definitely handle myself with your ex. I mean, you married her. She isn’t a bitch.” I lifted an eyebrow. “Is she?”

Fin shook his head. “Not as a rule, but is she capable? Fuck yeah.”

“Did she know about us, from before?”

“No. I don’t, as a rule, talk about past relationships.” He squeezed my knee. “If that’s what you want, I can try to recall⁠—”

“Oh please.” I stood. “We’ll be late for dinner if we rehash the hundreds of women you dated.”

“What about you?”

What?

“Fin, do you seriously want to have this discussion now?”

He furrowed his brow. “You said he’s out of the hospital.”

“I heard that from Grant, not from Preston.” I shook my head. “They ruled it a stomach bug. It’s still weird they were talking about arsenic. I don’t want to be with Preston anymore, but I don’t hate him. The thought of him being poisoned…” I exhaled.

He stood, coming closer. “I don’t hate Gail. I honestly feel nothing toward her.” He again took my hands. “Vee, I’ve loved you since that horrible party at Kentucky. I couldn’t fight it any longer. Maybe that’s why things didn’t work out between Gail and me. I am hopelessly yours and you’re mine.”

His lips came down on mine as his hand cupped my neck, holding me close.

I lifted my arms over his broad shoulders and leaned into him, my soft against his hard. My breasts smashed against his muscular chest. It was as his tongue tangoed with mine that I momentarily forgot about Abby or Gail or whoever the hell she was.

Breathless, we separated. There was a twinkle in Fin’s eyes.

“I’d rather not smell like sex during dinner with your parents.”

Fin laughed. “Just remember that after the final buzzer sounds, I’m coming back here with you, and I don’t have a curfew.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Graham, or a promise?”

Fin reached again for my hand and pushed the sleeve of my sweater up my forearm. Quirking an eyebrow, he slowed the timbre of his voice. “I hope you brought another long-sleeved sweater or blouse for tomorrow.

It wasn’t fair what he could do to me with only his baritone octave and a glint in his eye.

“I did.”

Fin walked me backward until I collided with the window. All at once, my hands were above my head, secured in his grasp of my wrists.

“Tonight,” he said, “I’m going to fuck you against this window.” He tilted his head toward the living room area. “And over that couch.”

Each phrase made my insides twist, my nipples bead, and my core clench at the longing nothingness. “Fin, we need⁠—”

“Say ‘yes, Fin,’” he interrupted.

“We need to get ready to⁠—”

His lips crashed over mine as my insides melted from the heat racing through my circulation.

“Try again,” he said.

I stared deep into his churning blue orbs, watching the emotions swirling in his gaze—a turbulent display of passion, love, and proprietorship. “Yes, Fin.”

He released my wrists. “Good girl.”

“I have to get ready for tonight.”