She laid her head back against the tub and regarded him from beneath heavy-lidded blond lashes. His debauched pixie. God, he loved her.
Finn threw the sponge into the water and soaped his hands, then he cupped her breasts in his palms, testing the weight of them, testing their buoyancy… testing her. Claire drew her lower lip between her teeth to nibble it. Finn lingered about her breasts until her cheeks were rosy and damp.
“Finn,” she warned playfully. “We should probably get out of the tub before I turn into a prune.”
“We’re not done yet,” he whispered. He soaped his hands again and slid one down her breastbone, across her belly, and down into her curls, where he sifted lightly and tugged gently. She squirmed her bottom, pushing her mound against his hand.
“Is that where you want me?” he asked.
She nodded, still worrying that lower lip.
“Did the doctor say I could put my fingers inside you?” he asked, leaning close to her ear, and then he leaned in to kiss her as he parted her hot folds, sliding through the warmth that was her desire, rather than the warmth of the water.
“He said we could have intercourse,” she said. Her cheeks pinkened even more. “I didn’t ask him about fingers.”
“But you did ask him about intercourse?”
“Of course, I did. I miss you.”
“I’m right here,” he said.
“But you haven’t been here all week.”
“Sorry,” he breathed as he slid one finger across the pulse of her, finding it swollen and throbbing for his touch. Claire nearly left the tub, she jumped so high. But she didn’t pull her legs down from where they were draped over the edges of the tub. And he could clearly see her curls and her most private places through the sudsy water in the tub. He stroked across her pulse again and then dipped a finger quickly inside of her to bring her own slickness forward, to mix it with the slide of the soap.
Claire arched her hips to meet him as he dragged a finger back and forth across her pleasure center, alternating between that place that he knew ached for him and her channel, which quivered every time he slid inside it. She grabbed on to his free hand with hers and squeezed it tightly, mimicking the motion of his fingertips and their speed.
He leaned his forehead against her temple and felt her wicked little breaths as they left her mouth, battering his evening stubble. She could unman him with a well-placed breath. Or a poorly placed breath; it mattered not the kind of breath. Just that she was there and she was his. And she was going to come on his fingers.
Finn slid two fingers inside her and rocked his thumb against the center of her as she arched to meet him. She was tight inside and gripped his fingers so well that he wanted to grab her from the tub and bend her over it, just so he could feel her quiver around him. But this moment was hard won. He had her at his mercy, and she had him at hers. With one breath, he could shatter along with her.
Her little pants were wicked markers of her pleasure, and they grew faster and faster. He sped his thumb, hooking his fingertips inside her so he could rub that squishy place inside her that might make her squirm.
“Finn,” she whispered, her voice too broken to respond. “Finn,” she chanted. “Finn, Finn, Finn,” and then she broke. He leaned close to her face, taking in her breaths as though they were his own. Her inhale was his exhale, and her exhale was his inhale. They shared the same air, the same space, the same body. She squeezed his fingers in a viselike grip as she broke around him. Her breasts bounced in the water as she slowed, and her head came back to rest against the lip of the tub once more. Her body was lax and sated, and she was more relaxed than he’d ever seen her.
“Goodness,” she breathed.
Then she curled into herself, and he wanted to wrap around her. “I missed you,” he said softly. He had. He’d missed her like crazy. Holding her at night was nice, but it wasn’t the same as talking to her. Not the same as sharing his life with her.
***
Claire looked up at him from the bath, not sure what to say to him. “Thank you” seemed inadequate. “I missed you too,” she finally said.
“When you have the wherewithal to stand up, I want to wash up really quickly.” He patted her knee and started to take his clothes off.
He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. Then he tugged his boots off and shucked his trousers, letting them fall to the floor as he stepped out of them.
His manhood was rigid and arched up toward his belly, purple at the tip. She reached out a hand to touch him. But he dodged her. “Do you need some help getting out?” he asked as he offered her a hand. She took it, supported fully by his firm grip and bolstered by the challenge in his eyes. She was naked. And he liked the way she looked naked, if his staff was any indication. She stepped out of the tub and let him wrap her in a towel. He stepped into the tub and took up the sponge. He arched a brow at her when she looked at his manhood. “Something wrong?”
Claire stepped toward him and sat down on the ridge of the tub. She took the sponge from him, and took up where he’d already moved it across his shoulders. She moved across his flat stomach, and he flinched as she dragged a fingernail across the ridges of his abdomen. “Careful there,” he warned. Claire stood up and went around behind him, soaping the sponge as she went. She washed slowly across his back and shoulders, inspecting his shoulders the way he’d inspected the ridges of her spine.
Her hand slipped down his belly, and she dipped into the springy curls that made a path from his navel to his manhood. He groaned aloud when she brushed the sponge across the head of his staff. “Comeuppance is painful,” she whispered, biting back a laugh at the look on his face.
“Don’t play with me, Claire,” he warned.
“Don’t play with me, Claire,” she mocked.
Claire dropped the sponge into the water and soaped her hand, then grabbed his manhood in a fist.
“I promise I won’t just play with it,” she whispered dramatically. He chuckled as he rocked forward on his heels, arching into her hands.
“I can’t take much of that,” he warned.
“Yes, you told me,” she said with a laugh. “I just want to get you as clean as you got me.”
Claire sat on the edge of the tub and looked up at him as she stroked up and down his length. His face was harsh, his teeth pulled back from his lips.
“Claire,” he warned.
“You mentioned the other day that you were going to make me come with nothing but your mouth,” Claire reminded him.
He groaned low in his throat. She dipped her hand in the water and washed off the soap, and then slicked all the soap off him with the sponge. He was gritting his teeth by the time she was done. And she was nearly giddy inside at the way she could make him feel.
“Are these sensitive?” she asked as she hefted the weight of his balls in the palm of her hand. He hissed and jumped back, but she held tight to his manhood and wouldn’t let him move back too far. “Are they?” she asked as she rolled them in her fingertips.
“Just a little,” he breathed.
***
Claire wet her lips and blew gently on the tip of his manhood, and the slit wept with want for her. He forced himself to hold in a groan as she stuck out her pert little tongue and licked across the tip of him, tasting the seed that he’d spilled. She sat back and licked her lips. “Salty,” she said with a smile.
“Aah,” he groaned. Would she do it? Would she take him inside her mouth? He lifted his bent knuckle to his mouth and bit it hard. If he didn’t, he’d spill down the front of her. But then she opened her mouth wide and took the tip of him inside the hot cavern of her mouth and closed her lips around him, sucking gently, testing his flesh with her teeth and tongue.
“Damn, that’s lovely,” he whispered. He threaded his hands through her hair and tugged her lips back a little. She looked up a
t him questioningly, and he motioned her back forward with a tug of her hair.
“Like this?” she asked, talking around the tip of him before she closed her mouth and began to suckle, her head bobbing up and down as she worked him.
“Stop, Claire,” he warned. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to come in your mouth.” She hitched herself higher on the edge of the tub and took him even farther, until he could feel the back of her throat. And then he fell over the edge. He tugged at her hair to pull her back, but she held tightly, refusing to pop free. He had no choice, so with a grunt, he raised up onto his tiptoes and spilled his seed within her mouth. She swallowed, surprised, and looked up at him. “Let go if you don’t want it.” But her throat just worked as she took all of him.
When he was spent, he forced her mouth from around him with a gentle tug, and he reached down to wipe the corner of her mouth.
“Goodness, Claire,” he said, his voice broken. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” she chirped. Then she tossed off the towel she wore and sauntered naked into the bedchamber, and he followed her home like a little lost puppy.
Thirty-Two
The wedding was an informal affair. They’d opted to have only family at the event, which was held at Robin and Sophia’s house, since theirs was the place where Claire had supposedly been staying during her recovery.
She’d actually been staying in Finn’s bed, and they had barely gotten out of it since the night they’d bathed together. He’d kept her busy, and she’d returned the favor. He’d taken her fast. He’d taken her slow. He’d taken her mouth. He’d flipped her upside down on her knees, and he’d lifted her knee so far by her head that she would have sworn she could kiss her calf.
But through it all, he’d been so very conscious of her, of her needs, of the life that grew within her. He’d fed her and bathed her and let her sleep on top of him. He’d brushed her hair and rubbed her feet, and he’d said so many dirty things to her in the throes of passion that she no longer cared what he said. She had even repeated many of those words when it was her turn to take charge.
Finn hadn’t seen Claire since last night, when he’d come to the hall to drop her off. They’d made love in the carriage on the way over, and she was slightly mussed when she entered Robin and Sophia’s home. Sophia had dragged her away to help her clean up, and Robin had taken Finn into the study for a drink and a stern lecture, Finn had later confessed. “You should have seen his face. He was stuck somewhere between really happy for me as a man and really irritated about his brother having relations with his sister-in-law.” He’d laughed. And there was no sound sweeter to her ears than that of his laughter.
Claire let her mother and Sophia help her dress, and she turned back to look into the looking glass. “I wish Grandmother and Grandfather were here,” she said. Her grandmother had opted to stay in the land of the fae for a bit as she was still grieving for her husband.
“I’m sure she’ll be ready to pay you a visit before too long,” Sophia said. “She just needed some time to get used to being alone, I think.”
“Do you think that Finn will ever be able to go there with me, to see the land where I came from?” Claire asked wistfully.
Her mother and Sophia shot a glance at one another.
“What is it?” Claire asked.
“We have been warned that to bring a human into the land of the fae without prior approval will be grounds for the clipping of our wings.” Her mother said it in one great, big breath. And then she froze, as though she was afraid of Claire’s reaction.
She should be afraid. “But you were just there! Both of you, with your human husbands.” She pointed a finger at Sophia, who automatically recoiled. “And you even took your human stepdaughter for a visit! But I can’t take my husband to my homeland?”
A knock sounded on the door. Finn stood there, and he looked a bit worried with his eyebrows drawn together so severely. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Claire snapped. “Nothing at all.” She swiped a hand beneath her nose and blinked back a tear. This was supposed to be a happy day. And here she was growing angry at her family for something that was well beyond their control.
“Can I have a moment with Claire?” Finn asked. Sophia and her mother scuttled out of the room.
He closed the door behind them and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she barked, as she sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Something is wrong,” he said as he came to sit beside her. “Come on. Tell me. You’ll feel better if you do.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. How much she’d come to rely on him in such a short time!
“There’s a prohibition against humans in the land of the fae. I have to have prior permission to take you there.”
He shrugged. “So, ask for permission. Problem solved.” He tweaked her nose playfully. “You want to go marry me now?”
“I want to marry you no matter what,” she admitted. He beamed down at her.
The door opened with a soft click and her father stuck his head in the room. He eyed Finn warily. “Hello,” he said.
“Hello,” Claire said with a tiny wave.
“I heard there’s a bride who needs to be delivered to the vicar for marriage,” her father said lightly, but he narrowed his eyes at Finn. “Why are you in here?”
“I needed him,” Claire said. Her heart clenched with love for Finn. “I’ll always need him.”
Her voice cracked on the last words and she hated it, but Finn tipped her chin up, kissed her softly, and said, “Let’s go get married.”
“Can I have a minute with my daughter?” her father asked suddenly.
Finn looked at her and arched his brows. She nodded at him, and he bent to kiss her forehead softly. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”
When the door shut behind Finn, her father came to sit down beside her on the bed. “It’s not too late to back out,” he said, looking at her thoughtfully.
“And let someone else end up with that wonderful man?” She snorted. “You have to be mad.”
“He loves you,” her father said, as he pushed a lock of hair behind her pointy ear.
“I love him too,” she admitted. She nudged her father’s shoulder. “Don’t tell him that, or he’ll think much too highly of himself.”
“You’ll make a great mother,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes. Did he know?
“Umm,” she said.
“Things happen in their own time, Claire,” he said. “As they are meant to be.”
Claire exhaled long and loud. “I’m so glad you already know.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “So am I.”
“We were going to tell you after the wedding.”
“Why were you going to wait?”
She snickered. “I wanted him to look handsome for the wedding. And if you’d known about the baby, you’d have given him a black eye. Or worse.”
Her father’s expression clouded. “Baby?” he asked.
Claire sucked in a breath. “You didn’t know?”
“Baby?” he asked again, his mouth twisting. “I’ll kill him.” He thrust open the door and charged from the room, pushing past the startled guests as Claire clung to the back of his coattails.
“Don’t!” she cried. But her father already had Finn’s shirt front in his grip.
“What did you do?” he snarled.
Finn looked over her father’s shoulder and glared at Claire.
“Sorry,” she murmured to him as she continued to pull at her father’s coat. Truth be told, his allegiance was touching, and he felt more like a father to her than he ever had before.
Finn tried to duck when her father swung the first fist. But with the way her father had him in his grasp, it was difficult. Finn took one punc
h directly across the cheek before the duke grabbed her father and pulled him back.
Finn wiped his hand across his cheek, pressing at his cheekbone, as he said, “I take it she told you.”
“I didn’t mean to! He made it seem like he knew!” She still held on to her father’s coat.
Her father raised his fist and charged toward Finn again, but this time, her mother stepped between them.
Finn said, “The first one is free. The next one might cost you.”
“Not more than it already has. She’s my little girl,” Ramsdale bellowed.
Claire’s mother patted his chest and said, “Come with me.”
***
Lady Ramsdale led her husband from the room by the tips of his fingers. It was like trying to drag a tiger by his eyeteeth, but she held fast and didn’t let him jump back into the fray with Lord Phineas, though he obviously wanted to. She took him into the drawing room and closed the door behind them.
“Did you know about this?” he bellowed.
She arched a pretty auburn brow at him. “Are you yelling at me?”
He ran a hand through his hair and spun in a circle, alternately stopping to swipe at his mouth and spin again. “Sorry,” he finally murmured. Then he asked much more calmly. “You knew?”
She nodded.
“How could you keep this from me?” he asked.
“She needed to tell you in her own time. I just don’t think this is what she intended.”
There was no use avoiding the obvious. Their little girl wasn’t an innocent. But she wasn’t their little girl, either. She’d grown up without them and was woman enough to fall in love, marry, and raise a family. And she would do a damn fine job with it. “She’s about four months into the pregnancy.”
“Four months?”
“Do you remember when we went to the land of the fae and left her in his care?”
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “We picked the wrong person, didn’t we?”
“Everything happens for a reason, darling,” she reminded him. She crossed the room to lay her hand on his chest and look up at him. “Do you remember when we fell in love?”