EIGHT
Can we go to the top deck to look through that fancy telescope of yours?" Peri asked as she observed the Cutters cross the solarium then disappear downstairs leaving her alone with Finn. Since, for some mysterious freaking reason, the shoe she'd been waiting to drop, had not dropped, she was filled with excess energy. She could think of a lot of ways to get rid of all that pent-up energy. All included Finn.
Excitement zinged through her veins, as her thoughts tumbled and spun. Between finally meeting the Cutters, the thrill of the tablets, and the host of freaking secrets she was holding onto, she was way too wired to sleep. Filled to the brim with questions she dare not ask, and exhilaration that buzzed and fizzed through her veins she needed something to distract her.
Finn would do nicely.
All through dinner he'd touched her. Her hand, her arm, her thigh. . . If his plan was to prime her for sex, she was ready, more than ready. As distracting as it was titillating, it hadn't been easy to concentrate on the conversation when he had his hand high on her thigh through most of the meal. He wasn't touching her now, but the electric current arcing between them was almost visible in the flickering candlelight.
Adrenaline seared through her veins in a heated rush, and her breath snagged in her lungs. Her lips tingled. Kiss me.
Tall, muscular and dangerous, he looked ridiculously sexy in dark slacks, and a pale blue dress shirt, open at his strong throat. His features were taut, and his eyes glittered as if he had a fever when she turned back to look at him. "Another time."
It took her a moment to recall the request she'd made. They were going up to the next deck, but she didn't think he was heading to his giant telescope. Peri fell into step beside him. He didn't touch her as he started walking, following the path through the solarium the others had just taken.
The black and white checkered marble floor reflected the ten-foot trees evenly spaced in front of tall windows running the length of the narrow room. Comfortable deep seating chairs, in small, intimate groupings were scattered about for private conversation. Enormous skylights, black with the night sky, would flood the room with sunlight in the day time. The air smelled faintly citrusy.
"What do you use this room for?"
Peri could hear the Cutters voices coming from below as they boarded their runabouts to head to their own ships. The splash and slap of the water and the murmur of voices drifted up as they took the stairs. To his cabin or hers?
"I work in here sometimes, mostly my office staff uses it in their off hours."
"If they live on board when do they get time off?"
"Ninety days on, thirty days off."
He walked so fast she had to double step to keep up with his speed and longer strides. "Your employees get a month off every three months? That's generous of you."
Finn shrugged. "They work hard. They're usually across an ocean from their families, it's the least I can do. My people come from every far-flung corner of the world. Blackstar is constantly in motion. Anything less than a month off wouldn't be worth such a long commute."
"You fly them home?"
He shrugged. "I have a plane." At the foot of the stairs, he stopped to back her against the paneled wall. "Take down your hair."
The man knew how to change the subject. Wordlessly, she reached up with both hands and slowly removed the pins, placing each in Finn's waiting hand. He stuck them in his back pocket. His eyes were all pupil as her hair slowly unfurled down her back in soft waves. The brush of his slightly roughened thumb over her mouth made her shiver in response.
She parted her lips, then flicked out her tongue to taste him. He shuddered. "I've never wanted a woman as much as I want you. I didn't give a damn about dinner, I just wanted to eat you." His warm coffee-scented breath fanned over her damp lips as he sank his fingers into her hair to cup the back of her head, while his other hand slid between her tank top and the waistband of her slacks at the small of her back. His hand felt shockingly warm against her cool skin as he dipped a finger beneath the thin ribbon of her thong.
Her butt cheek flexed. His pupils flared, and a muscle clenched in his jaw.
"I hope you do." Legs weak, her knees buckled. Bracing her hand on his chest, she felt the thud of his heartbeat beneath her palm. It echoed the staccato beat of her own.
His voice, low and husky, stroked her frayed nerve endings. "Dinner seemed interminable."
God yes. On so many levels. She shot him a wicked glance under her lashes as he withdrew his wandering fingers to slide his other hand to the small of her back under her top. "I enjoyed it."
He lowered his head, lips almost touching hers. "It was too long to wait to do this."
Cupping his face, she lifted up to close the small gap between their mouths. The kiss was shockingly gentle considering the tension she felt in his jaw as his tongue stroked over hers.
He lifted his head, leaving her lips damp and aching for more. "Come and see my etchings."
There were paintings all over the ship, Peri knew they were all the real deal and must be worth immeasurable fortunes. Artwork was the last thing on her mind right now. "Are they in your bedroom?"
He smiled as he opened a nearby door. "Yeah."
The blood in her veins surged as she felt the heat of each of his fingers on the small of her back as he guided her into the middle of the room. "What kind of etchings?" She glanced around the large, private sitting area dominated by a plush dove-gray suede sofa. Comfortable-looking easy chairs flanked a dark stone coffee table with a lush green plant spilling over the surface. A sleek, modern mantleless slate fireplace soared to the coffered ceiling. Wide windows showed the black sky and moon tipped ocean framed by white drapes which fluttered in the breeze of the open window.
"Naked nymphs dancing through fields of flowers trailing diaphanous scarves?" she teased. Through double doors, a dimly lit room gave her a tantalizing glimpse of the corner of his big bed.
"Self-portraits of the artists mostly." Finn unbuckled the thin black belt at her waist.
Peri enjoyed the feel of his hands on her, the way the back of his fingers lingered on her stomach as he slid the belt from the loops with painstaking care. His eyes never left her face.
With sure hands, she started unbuttoning his crisp dress shirt. Pausing as he drew her top over her head, she continued until she got to the waistband of his slacks. As he tossed her top somewhere behind her, she tugged his shirt free and spread it open to expose the hard ridges of his abs, and the drift of dark hair arrowing down. She felt as though she'd been starving all her life and was suddenly being offered a banquet.
She didn't understand this overwhelming emotion she experienced when she was with him. More than great sex. More than- Hell, she had no idea. Whatever it was, it filled her with euphoria. He made her . . .happy.
Finn brushed his knuckles over the swell of her breasts. "I like seeing the artists the way they saw them. . .selves." Sliding his hands to hold her hips, he shuddered as she stroked both hands over his chest.
She couldn't keep her hands off him. Peri wanted her hands and mouth all over him. Wanted his hands and mouth all over her. That bed seemed a million miles away, and Finn seemed to be in no hurry. The hardness of her nipples pressing against the prison of the thin beige satin of her bra was driving her crazy. His hot touch, combined with the cool breeze coming off the water, made her nipples hard, painful peaks.
Reaching behind her, Finn pulled down the short zipper of her pants. Slowly. The man was a sadist. He walked her backwards. "That one there is van Dyck," he said thickly in passing. "This bad-tempered looking guy here is Nicola Poussin, early 1600's. Here's the Rembrandt van Rijn. Why did he look so surprised that he was drawing himself?"
How had they moved? Peri wasn't aware of her feet moving, but they suddenly seemed much closer to the bedroom than they'd been a few moments before. Kicking off her shoes, she let the pants drop to the floor leaving her wearing what amounted to a couple of strategically placed satin ribbons. Stepping out of the puddle of linen, she pushed his shirt off his broad shoulders.
She wanted to shake him, but Finn seemed to have a plan that involved taking his sweet time. He indicated another small portrait with a jerk of his chin. "Over there is John Constable done in the early 1800's. This is Jean Francois Millet painted in the 1800's. But he looks like a hippie with all that hair, doesn't he? Georges Seurat, moody and ominous. I rotate them now and then. There are more throughout the ship. Frida Kahlo, David Hockney..." He mentioned a few more artists, most of whom she'd never heard of.
Peri covered his mouth with her palm. "I don't freaking care," her voice hitched as the back of her legs hit the mattress. At last. Combing her fingers through his hair, she cupped the back of his head, drawing him closer to her mouth. "No more talking."
Finn placed a knee on the bed, then slid his hand to the small of her back, and lowered her carefully to the plush surface of his bed.
Bracing his elbows on either side of her shoulders, his gaze traveled over her face. "I forget to breathe when I look at you." His tone was dark with sexual promise. "You're as damned perfect as a painting, but warm, responsive, flesh and blood. I could barely keep my hands off you at dinner."
Peri stroked his hair out of his eyes. "You didn't try very hard."
"Any more," he said against her sensitized throat as he trailed his fingers down the curve of her hip, "and I'd have taken you right there on the table."
"Been there, done that." She angled her head so his lips could more easily reach the exact. . .right. . .spot that made her shiver. "What else do you have in your repertoire?" The warmth of his hand left her hip.
"We've never taken our time." Sliding his palms against hers, he drew both her hands over her head, anchoring her to the mattress with his weight. His erection pressed hard against her mound as he brushed a half-open kiss against her lips, his exhalation filling her mouth so she tasted the coffee he'd drunk after dinner. "Tonight there's no urgency."
He was holding most of his weight off her. Peri curved her legs around his hips and tried to pull him harder against where she ached. "Of course there's urgency, Phineas Gallagher! Your touchy shenanigans during our civilized dinner conversation was clearly foreplay," her voice was thick and sultry. Her fingers flexed impatiently in his grip, "I'm wet and aching for you. Fill me. Finish what you started."
She sucked in a shaky breath of need as he bent his head to trace the sensitive rim of her ear with the tip of his tongue. His teeth scraped, then nipped her lobe, as his breath tickled her ear. "Would it be torture if we took it slowly?"
Every time they'd made love in the hotel in Buenos Aires it had been in a rush, greedy. Even when they'd been satiated, exhausted, there was still an edge of urgency as if each time was the last time.
When they'd had sex in the pantry, she'd barely had time to drag in a breath because they were incapable of taking their hands and mouths off each other.
"Yes. It would be freaking torture to take it slowly. I want it hard and fast. And often."
"Often can be accommodated. Hard and fast will just have to wait." His mouth fastened on hers with restrained primal greed.
"What happened to your parents?" Finn asked, lazily using a strand of her hair to paint random designs on her bare shoulder. Replete after making love, skin still slick with sweat, she had one leg thrown over his thighs, the moist heat of her pressed against his skin. His dick stirred, but he was too content holding her like this to move. "You said your father left when you were what? Five?" His PIs had found bugger all about her. He told them to dig deeper.
"You have a good memory." She tasted his skin with a small flick of her tongue. The sensation tightened his balls. "Hmm. Salty. On my fifth birthday. He committed suicide a short time later."
The ache in her voice affected him deeply. He knew that ache. The painful need for family and the desire for a deep connection was a phantom, but very real feeling, of loss. A longing for what might've been. "I'm sorry."
"Me, too. We never had a chance to get to know each other. I only ever remember him as angry - My parents fought. A lot. I acted out. Got into trouble. At home. At school. "Her voice hardened, and her hand on his chest stilled. "Even then, I knew I never wanted to feel that weak and vulnerable again."
Oh, darling. He stroked his hand down her narrow back. I would've wrapped that vulnerable little girl in cotton wool, and told her how she'd grow up to be a strong, secure and courageous woman. "You were practically a baby."
"I grew up fast."
"What about your mother?" He brushed a kiss over the crown of her head. Her hair smelled like lilies.
Her nonchalant shrug, small as it was, told him more than her words could about her mother's support. Finn felt a small stir of pity and a surge of impotent anger at the woman.
"She had a lot on her plate. She packed us up and moved from England to America. New places, new people, no support system. And even though my middle brother had Leukemia, and was in and out of treatment as long as I can remember, she unofficially adopted our next door neighbor’s daughter, who was about my age and in a bad situation at home. My older brother, who was fifteen when Dad left, became the man of the family. He was reckless and driven to make money to support the family. . .It was a lot for her."
Interesting how she never mentioned names. Was that intentional? To distance herself from an unhappy past? Now wasn't the time to ask, but he would. "Sounds like a lot for you, too."
"Everyone has a story. Was anyone in the foster system there for you? I read somewhere you made your first million at seventeen. True?"
"About that, yes." She stroked her palm through the hair on his chest as if she were petting a cat. Finn had never been touchy-feely before Ariel. He loved her hands on him. Hell, he loved any part of her touching any part of him.
"That's astonishing. Most kids that age are worrying about who to take to their prom."
"Apparently I had a twin who died at birth. So I always felt that something was. . .missing, I guess. I didn't have any other family, so I was moved around a lot. That was out of my control, but from when I was very young I knew I'd need money to get out of the system. I’d need skills to survive. Stealing and graft weren't out of the question. But I didn't want to end up indigent, or in jail at twelve. Selling drugs was always an option. But I was only with the Agan family two months before the lot of them were arrested for manufacturing and dealing. I knew nothing about the business and had no capital."
"You would've sold drugs?"
"I would’ve done anything to get out of my situation. At the time the drug trade didn't seem to me to be a longterm investment. I watched and learned from other families, wherever I was placed, waiting for something to spark, to get me going. I lived with the O'Brian's for seven months when I was twelvish. Jim, the father, was a computer repairman. He had anger management issues, and I learned to keep two arms lengths between us, but he let me watch him work, in his workshop in the garage. I was a fast learner. Because I knew that my time anywhere was unpredictable. I started doing computer repairs after school, whenever I could. I found I had a good technical brain, and I liked it. I got good. Made some money. He beat his wife to death, and I was shipped off to the next family." Right after he was released from the hospital after good old Jim whipped him within an inch of his life and left him for dead, too.
"Next were the Walsh's. Mrs. Walsh was an investment broker. A crooked broker, I might add. I was still repairing computers, but Eileen Walsh taught me about day trading and penny stocks. I'd found something I was even better at than computer repair." Eileen had also taken his virginity at fourteen. "I used my repair money to day trade, used that money for penny stocks. . .That's the long story to my first million."
"It's a fascinating story, and I'm sure you left out some of the best bits between then and now."
"I like your best bits between here..." He kissed her mouth. "And here…” He stroked his fingers through the silky tangle of damp curls at the juncture of her thighs and they stopped talking.