Page 62 of Flag On The Play
“Let go, Nova. Let go of all your fears and overthinking. This is where you belong. You have to feel it too.”
Even as my body begins to fall over the edge, my head agrees. I know this is where I belong, and it shocks me that I don’t want to run.
He reaches between us and rubs my clit as our eyes lock.
That’s all it takes. I don’t even know if it’s him touching my clit or the look of vulnerability in his eyes, but I explode.
I come apart in his arms, my head falling forward, our foreheads touching, I know it’s true.
This isn’t just lust.
It’s something else entirely.
Something unstoppable.
Something real.
His fingers are still wrapped around my hips, his breath fanning over my lips as we catch what’s left of the air between us. My robe is barely hanging on, but I don’t care. Not when I feel this raw. This seen.
Finlay leans in, brushing his mouth over mine. It’s not demanding this time, but gentle, sweet, romantic. A kiss that feels like a promise instead of a tease.
I lock my eyes to his, and before I can talk myself out of it, the words slip out. “I do belong here with you.”
His brows lift, and that cocky smirk falters for just a second, giving me a glimpse of the man under the swagger.
“I haven’t felt like this about someone before,” I admit, quietly. “And with our past, it should scare the hell out of me.” My voice wobbles, but I push through it. “But it doesn’t. At least not the way it should. Because this thing with you feels worth it. Worth moving forward for.”
Finlay’s face lights up like he just threw a touchdown in the final seconds of the Victory Bowl.
“Damn, Nova.” He grins, kissing me hard and quick, a smile pressed against my lips. “You won’t be sorry.”
A small laugh bubbles out of me, nerves mixing with butterflies as I slide off his lap. “I need to get dressed before they start to wonder what kind of services I’m offering in this VIP room.”
He chuckles, eyes trailing over me with that heat still simmering behind them. “Don’t take too long. I don’t trust the bar crowd to keep their eyes to themselves.”
I toss him a look over my shoulder, smirking as I fix my robe and walk out of the room.
Backstage is a blur, but Roxy doesn’t miss a beat. She steps into my path when I come out, lipstick smudged and grinning like the devil herself.
“Girl,” she says, with a wink and a knowing look. “That was not your usual VIP service.”
I just shake my head, biting back a smile. “It wasn’t.”
She arches a brow but doesn’t press. Just squeezes my hand before disappearing toward the back with a tray of drinks.
Finlay’s waiting by the bar, baseball cap low over his brow, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. I walk straight into him, his arm sliding around my waist like it’s second nature.
“You ready?” he asks, voice low and tired but still warm.
“Yeah.”
We step outside, the cold air of the New York night brushing over my skin. His hand never leaves mine.
“Jet lag’s kicking my ass,” he admits, yawning as we approach the car. “But I couldn’t go home without seeing you.”
I glance at him, heart tripping over itself again. “Dinner tomorrow?”
He nods like it’s already carved in stone. “Pick a place. I’ll be there.”
