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She coughed out an incredulous laugh. ‘You’re insatiable.’
‘Only for you,’ he said. Meaning it. She’d ruined him. No other woman in the world seemed real any more—just mere cheap imitations that might as well not exist.
Crap, he was in big trouble here. And when she canted her head and peeked up at him, brow nipped, gauging his sincerity, his stomach hollowed out.
This was getting too deep. He knew it. She knew it. He could tell by the way she turned away, scissored her legs out of the silk sheets and moved to perch on the edge of the bed.
‘I should go. Let you get some sleep. You have to race in the morning and...’
And he didn’t care, he realised. He would rather she stayed. Which was scarier still.
‘Serena—’
That was when he saw it, in the ivory glow of the moon shimmering over her back. Artwork, moving across the base of her spine.
‘Aw, baby’ he growled. ‘That is one hot splay of ink.’
Her spine flexed as she stiffened for a beat, then she murmured, ‘Thought you might like it.’
With one touch her body softened and he traced the design with the tip of his finger, skimmed the garland of tiny pink and purple flowers outlined in black, curling into a circle to form the traditional peace symbol and then swooping outward in an elegant trail to each side of her back. But it was the small butterflies at either side, fluttering at her hip bones as if poised to fly from their captivity, that cinched his chest.
‘It’s beautiful, Serena.’
Intuition told him there was more to this than met the eye, but before he could pry she said, ‘Finn...?’ with such vulnerability that he was powerless to do anything but nuzzle closer and worship the ink with lush, moist kisses, smoothing his hands over every inch of skin he could reach, caressing her, loving her.
Until she tumbled into his arms and he made love to a woman for the very first time. Took them both soaring to the euphoric heights of nirvana, where life as he knew it ceased to exist.
* * *
When reality knocked at the temporal door of his mind Finn was half sprawled over her, one leg flung over her thighs, one arm tucked around her waist, his head cushioned on her soft breasts. Even in slumber she cradled him close, her affectionate fingers toying with and stroking his hair.
Longing nearly shattered him.
It was like coming home. An indefinable precious feeling of utter peace he wanted to wake to every morning. She felt perfect in his arms. All soft, warm woman. His woman.
He wasn’t letting her go. He was never letting her go. He—
He froze. Something foreign slammed into his chest as reality hit and his life skewed dangerously.
No. No, she could never be his, he told himself, fighting the crush of what felt suspiciously like panic. Fear. He had no choice but to let her go. Watch her walk away, powerless, as her endearing affection hardened to hate.
This was what he’d been afraid of all along, he realised. Losing himself. Relinquishing his hold on the reins of his life, allowing his emotions to rule until he wanted it all. Needed a woman he could never have.
Gingerly he eased back and cool air slapped his sweat-drenched body with lucidity.
It was all for the best, right? Yes. Absolutely. He’d only cause her pain in the end, with his uncanny knack of hurting people. Eventually he’d let her down as he had Eva. He didn’t trust himself not to.
Yeah, he shouldn’t forget the notion that he was some kind of bad luck charm for those he cared for. Had he been able to save his mother? Tom? No. Well he’d be damned if he took Serena down too.
Curling up on her side, Serena snuggled into the pillow, subconsciously reached for him. His heart kicked with the demand to pull her into his arms. Hold her tight. Adore her. Never let her go...
Finn launched off the bed, stumbled to the bathroom and with a quick flick of his wrist at the controls turned the shower spray to fast, hard and mind-numbingly cold.
There he stood, hands braced on the sandstone tiles, head bowed, while the water pounded his scalp and shoulders and he commanded his heart to stop beating for her. He shoved common sense down his throat until he nigh on choked on it, oblivious to time or place... Until bright light slashed through the room and a sharp, pained cry rent the air—
‘Oh, my God, Finn! Your back. Baby, your back.’
Slam went his heart against the wall of his chest and he cursed inwardly. How could he have forgotten even for a moment? Idiot. This was what she did to him—banished thought until he operated like a loose cannon. Out of control. He hadn’t wanted her seeing him like this, finding out this way.
Drenching his lungs with fortifying air, he commanded his heart to calm and relished the sanity that rained over him, bringing with it relief. So much relief it punctured his nape and made his head tip back until he stared at the whitewash on the ceiling.
