The bed shifted, and something warm brushed against her rousing her from sleep. Thinking it was Phin, she turned onto her side and burrowed deeper under the covers, not ready to get up yet. The something warm moved again, this time up her arm and over her shoulder, then in a long slow sweep down her back. No way could Phinny do that.

“Mo chuisle, time to wake up.”

She opened her eyes to find Finn lying next to her, propped on an elbow, his head in his hand. Last night and this morning were coming back to her now. He’d dug into her past, tracked her down at the office, made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere and neither was she, then kissed her until her toes curled.

She must have passed out in his car because from then until now, there was nothing. He must have carried her to bed, then stayed. She’d forgotten how nice it was to have a man taking care of her. Other than Pax, no one had since Andrew.

“If you sleep any longer, you won’t be able to tonight, and tomorrow you’ll be in the same shape, having your days and nights turned around.”

“What time is it?”

“Just past five.”

She stretched, her limbs still heavy from sleep. As close as he was, her breasts brushed his chest, and her legs, which were bare, rubbed the heavy fabric of his jeans. She’d been wearing a skirt and heels last time she was conscious; he must have taken care of that too.

“Are you hungry?” he asked quietly, while his fingers smoothed her mussed hair. He brushed a few tickling strands off her cheek and gently tucked them behind her ear.

Their conversation from earlier replayed in her head. She could have this closeness, a man’s tender nurturing, spontaneous lunches, check-in phone calls, laughter, fun, drinks at the club, dancing in a pair of strong arms, and sex—exciting, carnal sex with a dominant just like she yearned for so long—and someone to ground her and take charge when she needed him to, and love. That’s where this was headed, she was sure. And she could have it all with Finn if she could set aside her fears and live for the day.

Did she dare?

With his warm body next to hers, his feather-light touch caressing her skin, and the tender concern in his voice and his expression, her answer was a resounding yes.

It translated to a softly uttered, “I’m hungry, sir, but not for food.”

With her gaze locked on his, she saw the moment his mood shifted and the kind, considerate nurturer stepped back, allowing the passionate, dominant lover to come forward. He needed no other invitation and rolled until he was on top of her. His mouth came down to cover hers as his hand swept down her arm. He found her fingers and interlaced his with her own. Deepening the kiss, he caught her other hand and brought both arms over her head. Balancing over her, he used his knees to spread her thighs, then settled his hips between them, giving her more of his weight.

She welcomed it, and unable to wait for his next move, arched her back, tilted her hips upward, her body recognizing the hard proof of his desire as surely as it responded to his dominance.

When he rolled to his side, she whimpered at the loss.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. But for this to work, both of us will have to lose some clothes.”

She heard a zipper, and the crinkle of a wrapper. Next, came the sound of ripping fabric. As cool air wafted over her damp, heated skin, her eyes flew to his, shocked the usually calm, composed, patient Master Finn had torn off her panties.

“I’ll buy you another pair,” he growled as he moved on top of her again.

Feeling his skin against hers rather than denim and the insistent nudge of his cock against her pussy instead of a bulging zipper, she moaned, “I don’t care.”

There wasn’t much talking after that, mostly because she couldn’t, too overwhelmed by the power of his passion. Everything seemed to happen at once. His mouth captured hers with slow, drugging kisses, then he got to his knees, wedged them up close to her bottom and draped her legs over his thighs. This left her hips tilted upward, and her pussy spread wide for him.

Wasting no time, with his cock in hand, he slid the broad head of his rigid cock through her slick folds. Her flesh quivered, her legs locking around him as best she could, she tensed with anticipation of him filling and stretching her again. After a few long delicious glides, he changed angles and aligned the tip with her entrance. Esme held her breath, waiting anxiously, a whimper of need emanating from her.

A second ticked past and another, but he didn’t move.

“Eyes on me, a stór.”

Her gaze rose and locked with his.

“You’ll look at me when I fuck you, Esme. I want to watch your face as I claim your pussy, see your eyes as the climax builds, and as it takes hold of your body and you come, I want to see the pleasure written across your beautiful face.”

With their green eyes locked together, he plunged deep.

She cried out because with her hips tipped upward, once fully seated, Finn touched her in places never touched before.

He stretched out on top of her and reclaimed her hands, which hadn’t budged from where he’d placed them above her head. Then, with faces close, fingers pressed tight, and bodies entwined, he moved. His strokes were slow, sure, possessive and her inner muscles rippled around him in response.

The delicious friction penetrated every nerve, and each well-timed thrust bumped her clit. She gasped for breath as he groaned and buried his face in her neck.

“Hand in glove,” he uttered as his mouth opened on her skin, which she took as recognition of how perfectly they fit together.

Settling into a pattern of deep, steady strokes and slow, measured withdrawals, Finn stirred sensations she’d never experienced before. It was beautiful, amazing, mind-blowing and every other trite adjective she’d read in any romance ever—but in this case, it was true.

And it was too much for her to take. She tried to hold back, but it was as impossible as stemming the rising tide in a storm. Pleasure washed over her, and as her orgasm peaked, her legs tightened around him, and she rode the convulsive waves of pleasure gripping her.

Rising to his knees, he braced on his arms, hands still interlocked with hers, and moved faster, hips thrusting harder, his cock driving deep until with a growl he stiffened and planted inside her. Somehow, Esme found the strength to open her eyes and watch as he tensed above her, and with a rumble of pure satisfaction from his chest and throat, he poured himself into her.

Staring up at him, still panting from her climax, and blown away from witnessing his, she saw when his face relaxed, and his green eyes opened. Still turbulent from their explosive passion, while his gaze held hers, his lips kicked up in a lazy, sexy grin.

“I meant hungry for supper, lass, but that’ll do any day.”

Her lips parted, but before she could think of a plausible denial—which would have been an out-and-out lie—he dipped his head and took her lips in a slow, wet, bone-tingling kiss.

Long moments passed before he eased out of her and dropped to her side.

“Don’t move,” he ordered softly. “I’ll be right back.”

He exited the bed and crossed to the bathroom, likely to take care of what was in the crinkling wrapper she’d heard earlier. Lying flat on her back, staring up at her shadowed ceiling, her body tingling in the aftermath, she felt a swirling mix of emotion. Hope, that finally, she might be able to move on, relief, that a good man like Finn existed to help her do so, and nagging guilt because as good as sex had been with Andrew, never had it been like just now.

“Nope,” Finn admonished as he climbed into bed and gathered her close. “Living each day to the fullest does not include dwelling on the past.”

“How do you do that?” she demanded to know.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve and your emotions on your face. And knowing your story, and what you gave me tonight, it’s not hard to put two and two together.”

“I don’t mean to dwell, really I don’t, but it’s difficult, especially at milestones.”

He gazed down at her, and she could practically see the wheels turning.

“I’ve never been with anyone outside a club, or in my bed, not since…”

His hand rose to her face and tipped it back. “I’m honored to be a milestone, darlin’.” His eyes twinkled, and a sexy grin encompassed his face. “I gather this means you think I’m something special?”

She’d used that exact word to describe him earlier. Damn! She was falling in love with a mind reader. Her throat tight with emotion, a nod was the best she could do as an answer.

His smile gentled and he dropped to her side and gathered her close. With his mouth against her temple, he murmured, “For me too, lass. We had a spark the first time we met and it’s sizzled every time since. I have a feeling this is more than special, but the beginning of something extraordinary.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

Esme woke up feeling heavy headed and slightly disoriented. Lying still, she tried to get her bearings. It was her room, she could see her clock on the table, but the display was turned away too much for her to read it. The lamp was the same as always. Her sheets smelled like Downy, nothing new there, and Phin’s weight was across her waist, stretched long and heavy like always.

She reached down to pet him and instead of fur, encountered skin.

With a shriek, she shot up and twisted around, her elbow catching something solid. When she heard a click of teeth, and a low groan, she realized it was Finn’s chin.

Her hand flew to her chest to still her racing heart as the other slid up his arm.

“What the fuck, Esme?” he demanded to know in a deep growly voice.

“I’m sorry, but you scared me. I woke up, foggy, and thought you were Phin.”

There was a moment’s pause, before he drawled, “Darlin’, I am Finn.”

“Not Finn with an F, but a Ph.” This clarified nothing for him, and he popped up on an elbow. In the dark, she could make out his perplexed frown.

Twisting, she stretched and switched on her lamp. Turning back, she shrugged apologetically, then pointed to the end of the bed where Phineas sat watching them, his tail swishing back and forth at a leisurely pace. It surprised her. Usually upon waking he was demanding to eat.

Esme glanced at the big gorgeous man gazing at her big gorgeous cat who shared the same name—sort of.

“You named your cat Finn?” he stated incredulously. “Is that why you’re partial to calling me that?”

“Oh, but I didn’t name him after you, but for Phineas Frog, a character in a kid’s book. I call him Phin, or Phinny, for short.”

This got her a look that said don’t even think about calling the human Finn, Finny or her ass would pay the price. She wouldn’t dare, but she had to suppress a giggle because his disgruntled look was hilarious.

“Anyway,” she explained further, “I’ve had him for years, so it’s nothing recent, but it is a weird coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Phin,” he grunted, still staring at his namesake. Suddenly, her fickle feline moved forward, walked up Finn’s big body and planted his twenty plus pound booty dead center on his chest. Esme looked on in stunned amazement as he proceeded to purr and cheek rub all over Finn’s beard stubbled face.

“I can’t believe this. He hates everyone but me.”

“He’s a good judge of character,” Finn observed as he leaned back on the pillows and indulged her cat in a behind-the-ear scratch.

“You don’t get it, he even hated Andrew, and we made sure he fed him, but even that didn’t help. At best, he tolerated him.”

“You had him before you two married?”

“Yes.”

“He was jealous.”

“But why not of you?”

He looked at her as did Phin. “Maybe he senses you need more than him in your life.” He hefted the cat who looked like he’d settled in for a cozy nap on Finn’s chest, she did not blame him. Usually, when moved at nap time, he turned into a grouch, and she could expect a low growl and sometimes a paw swipe—claws retracted, he wasn’t a complete animal. But when Finn leaned over the edge of the bed and put him down, there was no drama, no formal protest, no Phinny cattitude whatsoever. He simply trotted away unperturbed.

“I think I’m still asleep and dreaming because I do not believe what I’m seeing.”

He chuckled and rolled back to her. At which point he pulled her to him with a hand curled around her neck and after a divine kiss, whispered against her lips, “I’m sorry, lass, but I’ve got to get going.”

She looked out the window. The dark sky showed no signs that dawn was imminent. “What time is it?”

“Early. I have a meeting with a new client at eight and need to get home to shower and change first.”

“I should get ready too, but I don’t want to.” This came out mumbled because she said it while yawning.

Finn was smiling at her when she finished, then he said, “Sick day.”

“What?”

“You’re still exhausted, lass. You’re taking a sick day.”

“I can’t. I’ve got cases to prepare and no one to do it except me.”

“You get time off, don’t you?”

“Ten paid days per year and two personal days.”

“And I bet you haven’t taken the first one.”

She couldn’t deny it, not with his alert green-eyed gaze boring into her.

“That’s what I thought. This will leave you with eleven.”

“You’re rather high-handed, especially with my job and benefits. Has anyone ever told you that?”

As soon as she asked, she regretted her words. Away from the club, in the comfort of her home, casually bantering moments ago about her cat, she’d forgotten for a moment she was talking to Master Finn.

Amusement flashed across his face. “If by high-handed you mean dominant, lass, I hear it about every day of my life. But let me clarify, you’re complaining that I’m insisting you take a day off, using a benefit you’re entitled to, so you can get some much-needed rest? I think I need to know, for future reference, so I understand how you think.”

Her lips parted, but anything she said would make her look petty since he was looking out for her. She snapped her mouth shut and shook her head, instead.

“Smart girl,” he murmured as the hand at her neck brought her face to his. He gave her another kiss, this one brief but just as hot, then rolled to the edge of the bed and got up.

Treated to her first glimpse of his sleek, muscled back, nicely shaped, taut ass, and long, sinewy legs, she lost track of the conversation.

Finn cleared his throat. Caught blatantly ogling his butt, she blushed.

“Make the call, darlin’.”

“Yes, sir.”

Satisfied, he nodded and evidently, since she made that so easy, gave her a few more orders. “I have to work tonight, but tomorrow, I’m taking you to dinner. I’ll make reservations at Spago for seven o’clock. Will that give you enough time to get home and changed for me to pick you up?”

“Spago! I’ve always wanted to go there. But how can you get reservations at the last minute?”

“The owner is a client, and he’s usually very accommodating.”

She gasped. “Wolfgang Puck is a club member?”

“A Rossi client darlin’,” he corrected, grinning broadly. “We handle security at his restaurant and his residence.” He continued to the bathroom, adding, “I’ll worry about dinner, you make your call, after you’re finished ogling my ass, that is.”

“I wasn’t!” she sputtered.

Suddenly, he did an about face and strode back to the bed.

Esme’s gaze dipped down to his sculpted chest, tight abs, and so much more. The view from the front was as jaw-dropping as the back. In a blink, he was beside the bed and bending over her, his fists in the mattress on either side of her hips. Staring into her eyes, he said, “You were, but I can’t blame you. Reverse our positions, and my eyes would be all over your glorious round butt too. Said butt will also be rosy red for stalling unless you pick up the phone and tell your boss you’re taking a day off.”

“I can’t call at five a.m. No one is up now except city service workers, nurses, and crazy people.”

“Call the office and leave your message there, Esme. Otherwise, you’d have to set an alarm which defeats the purpose of a day off to catch up on your sleep.”

“Right, I can do that,” she whispered, transfixed by his handsome face being so close.

Satisfied—he’d gotten his way, of course, he was—he leaned forward, murmured, “There’s a good lass,” then gently, but thoroughly kissed her.

“Have I mentioned you’re very good at that?”

“I don’t think you put it in words, but your breathy sighs and moans gave me a hint,” he replied, amused.

Bossy and feeling full of himself this morning, too.

“At the risk of over-inflating what I think is a very healthy ego, I probably need to mention…”

Did she dare?

“What is it, a stór?”

His treasure… Yet another reason the man could talk her into anything, even to take a leap of faith, and dare to love again.

“I’m falling for you—hard. Am I crazy? I met you at Decadence less than two weeks ago.”

“I have it on good authority, from Eric, Thomas, and Flynn, another Master friend of mine, that it tends to happen rather quickly when it happens.”

She’d seen Commander Flynn with Cassie and knew what Eric had with Val, watching the smoldering heat of their passion had made her ache to have something even half as intense. She did now, and there was no halfway with Keiran Finnegan. Except, he hadn’t returned the sentiment.

She tipped her face up to him. “And they would know?” she prompted.

He nodded, offering no further insight into how he felt. But as she’d just pointed out, it hadn’t been two weeks.

Come on, Esme.

Still, it stung not to have the feelings returned.

“Ah, darlin’, you look like I ran the Jag over your cat.”

Her eyes automatically darted around the room locating Phin curled up on his favorite fuzzy throw on the chair across the room.

He laughed softly. “Don’t play poker, mo chuisle, you have a tell. I, on the other hand, need to go to Vegas and make my millions since you can’t read from my expression I feel the same way.”

Her eyes shot up to his. “You do?”

“I’m not down on one knee… but I’ve got good instincts, as you know. We’re building something lasting, Esme. Count on it.”

This time when she blinked, it was to clear the tears from her eyes. She didn’t have time to dwell on his words long because his kiss demanded a response and sent the pit of her stomach into a wild whirl.