Page 112 of Unmanageable

“Oh, my God,” I wheeze, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye as I lean against his chest, still chuckling. “The legendary Finnian O’Connell. Defeated by hardware. Let me see it, drama queen.”

He dramatically drops his chin, closing his eyes and leaning down so his forehead is right in front of me, acting like he’s on the verge of total collapse.

“It’s terminal,” he groans, his voice dripping with mock tragedy. “I will die here, on a hotel floor, Scottie. My career is over. Tell my mother I loved her.”

“Stop being a baby,” I laugh, stepping on my tiptoes. I cup his jaw with one hand and lean forward, pursing my lips to gently blow a cool stream of air right over the red mark blooming against his hairline. “There. All better, princess.”

Cash’s eyes flutter open, the dramatic act melting away in an instant. A slow, incredibly filthy grin stretches across his mouth, his dark gaze dropping straight to my lips.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice thick, “I can think of another thing you should blow on.”

I shove his chest away with both hands, laughing out loud as I shake my head.

“Oh, come on, Cash! Do not ruin the moment!” I protest. “We had a sweet, tender thing going for two seconds!”

“I’m a professional athlete, Scottie, my mind only works in one gear,” he laughs, catching my wrists before I can push him again. He pulls me right back into his space, reeling me in until my chest is flush against his.

The giggles fade away, replaced instantly by that heavy, magnetic shift in the air. The room goes quiet again, the tension snapping back into place like a coiled spring.

He doesn’t rush. Neither do I.

Cash reaches up, his large, calloused fingers gently resting on the hem of my tank top. He catches my gaze, asking the silent question with his eyes, and when I nod, he lifts the fabric with agonizing slowness, sliding it up over my head and tossing it aside.

I reach for him too, my fingers finding the buttons of his flannel shirt. I pop them open one by one, sliding my palms across the smooth, hot skin of his chest.

We undress one another, stripping away the layers until there’s nothing left between us but skin, heat, and the undeniable truth of what we’ve been waiting days to do.

When we’re both bare, Cash takes a sharp breath, his hands sliding down to cup my hips, pulling me flush against him.

“You look breathtaking,” he whispers, his voice trembling as his eyes trace every inch of me.

“You’re not so bad yourself, O’Connell,” I murmur, smiling up at him.

He leans down and captures my mouth in a slow kiss that steals my breath. I moan into his mouth, my legs parting instinctively as he steps between them, his hard cock pressing against my stomach.

“I want you,” I breathe against his lips, not hiding it, not playing any games anymore. My hands trace the broad expanse of his shoulders, digging my fingers into his back. “Finn, I want you inside me. Right now.”

“I’m going to take care of you,” he promises as he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss right over my collarbone.

He lifts me, my legs wrapping around him, and carries me the three steps over to the bed. He lays me down gently onto the sheets, following me down instantly, his frame caging me in.

He positions himself between my thighs, sliding his hand down my stomach. When his fingers press against my pussy, I let out a sharp, breathless gasp, my hips arching up to meet his touch.

I’m already wet, already ready, and when he slides two fingers inside me, my eyes flutter shut as a wave of intense heat rolls through my limbs.

“Scottie,” he murmurs, his thumb circling my clit.

I open my eyes, locking my gaze onto his.

“You like that?” he whispers, his voice thick with want as he strokes inside me, watching my expression shift with every movement. “You like knowing how crazy you make me?”

“Yes,” I gasp, my hands gripping his shoulders, my fingers digging into his skin. “I love it. Please, Cash, just do it.”

He pulls his hand away, reaching for his jeans on the floor and fishing a foil packet from the pocket.

“Wait,” I say, catching his wrist before he can tear it open.

I meet his eyes, giving a small shake of my head. “You don’t have to. I’m clean. I’m on the pill.”