Page 42 of Code Name: Harbor

Finn’s hand closes around my wrist. “Don’t.”

I look up at him, my grip loosening. His face is shadowed by the dim light, and I can’t quite read his expression.

“Don’t stop,” he says gruffly. “Don’t you dare take your hand off me.”

He pushes my hand back to where it had been and squeezes it for emphasis before releasing it. I watch mesmerized as he shoves his jeans and briefs down past his hips without taking his eyes off my face, giving me space and room to pleasure him.

His hand closes around my hand again and he presses my fingers around the length of him. His voice is barely controlled but still commanding. “I like it rough, Josie.”

A shudder racks my body and at that moment, I know I’ve never truly been turned on by a man before. The need along with the command has me melting.

“Get on the bed,” I say, using my hand at his hip to guide him until he’s half lying back against the pillows. I work my way around, one knee tucked under me, my left elbow under my weight, my right hand wrapped around the heat of him.

He drops his head against the pillow and his eyes close. Finn’s jaw loosens as if he’s forcing himself to relax and I find that endearing and a little empowering.

The light falls across him at angles, illuminating a body sculpted of muscle and bronzed skin. I see a scar at his collarbone and make a note to explore it with my tongue later.

I start to move my hand, slow at first because I want to see what he does. Then faster as his breath hitches with every stroke. His hips work against my grip and he doesn’t hold back his groan of pleasure.

I run my hand up his length one more time and at the top of the stroke, I tighten my hold.

“Yes,” he growls through gritted teeth. “Just like that. Don’t change a thing.”

A swell of power rolls through me as I work him… harder, faster, watching his face for the changes in it. Mouth opened, eyes closed, head tilted at an angle on the pillows. There’s a flush down his throat and across his chest and he’s utterly beautiful.

“Look at me, Finn.” His eyes open, blinking at me in surprise. “I want you to watch me watching you as you come.”

His lips peel back in a pleasured grin and his back arches off the bed as his hips thrust up hard into my hand. I stroke a few more times, twisting at the top, and the man orgasms with a shout as the wet heat of him pulses across his stomach in pale ropes.

I keep my hand moving on him gently, letting him ride out the storm until the last of it has disappeared.

I didn’t orgasm and I don’t particularly care I haven’t in this erotic coming together. I’ve just watched Finn come apart against my hand and it’s almost as satisfying as if I had joined him in the fall.

He exhales, hard, blowing a lock of hair off his forehead, and his hips lower back to the bed. “Jesus Christ, Josie. That’s not how I had planned for things to go.”

I chuckle, sliding my hand up the length of him and then run my fingertips through the wetness on his stomach. “I enjoyed that very much.”

The question I should know the answer to is whether I’m supposed to lie down beside him now or stay where I am or say something else. The information for what comes now should be available to me as I’m not a blushing virgin, but I’ve apparently forgotten the entire library of post-encounter behavior I’ve built since my first sexual experience.

Doesn’t matter, though, because Finn is back in control. He moves so fast I make a small sound of surprise—an embarrassing yelp, really—and he’s devouring me with a kiss. His hand is at the back of my neck, and his weight has come over me. The wetness on his stomach is now wet on my own skin, and I don’t have a single coherent thought about it.

I roll onto my back, and I let him have my mouth with a groan of pure lust-driven pleasure. He traces my throat with his lips, between my breasts and then uses his teeth on my nipples, which are apparently tied to my hips as they shoot off the bed.

Finn presses my stomach back down to the mattress and then he’s dragging my skirt up my thighs. His fingers inch under the elastic of my panties, a bold finger sliding inside me with ease. I’m soaked for him.

He pulls out and drags the wetness up over my clit where his finger sets up a slow circling motion.

I cry out, the pleasure so intense my brain threatens to short-circuit.

Then his hand is gone.

I want to cry in a way that’s not romantic but more like a physical bereavement over the loss.

But Finn’s merely shifting in the bed, moving to his knees to loom over me. He stares at my half-naked body, head tilting as if considering his next move.

And then he’s roughly stripping me of my skirt and panties. I think vaguely that I have no clue where my shoes are or how they came off, but then my skin is blanketed in cool air against the parts of me that have just been uncovered.

He’s so assured with hands at my thighs, opening them and spreading my legs wide. My breath catches, refuses to fill or deflate my lungs. He goes prone, mouth hovering over me, and then I feel the stubble of his beard against the inside of my thigh. He rubs his chin, abrading my skin in a way that feels delicious and then his tongue is inside me.