Evie's Bombshell - By Amy Andrews Page 0,47

hard not to watch everything jiggling nicely. ‘Evie.’

She stirred a little and murmured sleepily. ‘Hmm?’

‘I’m going to go,’ he whispered, trying to ease away again.

Evie dragged herself back from the dark abyss of sleep towards the lure of Finn’s whisper. Her eyes fluttered open and her gaze slowly fixed on his face as awareness filtered in. She’d crashed on his shoulder and was smooshed up against him like some crazy stalker.

She removed her hand from his biceps and sat back a little, snuggling her head against the couch instead of his shoulder. She gave him a sleepy, apologetic smile. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I’m perpetually tired these days.’

Finn felt the low note of her voice hum along his veins like a tuning fork. ‘It’s fine,’ he said, also keeping his voice low and his gaze firmly trained on her face and not the view straight down her loose top.

‘Thanks for the pizza.’ She rubbed her belly. ‘It was delicious.’ The action pulled her shirt down a little more and Evie was surprised to see Finn’s eyes widen slightly.

Finn looked. He couldn’t help himself. Her breasts were so lush and so … right there. He grimaced as he looked back at her. ‘I should … definitely go,’ he murmured.

Evie felt her insides dissolve to mush at the look of naked lust she saw heating his gaze to a blue flame. Her hormones, suddenly not sleepy, roared to life. ‘You don’t have to go,’ she said.

Finn sucked in a breath at the shimmer in her soft hazel eyes. ‘Evie …’

Evie leaned forward, her breasts tight, her internal muscles quivering in anticipation. ‘Stay,’ she murmured, and pressed her mouth lightly to his. The beer on his breath was sweet and heady.

Finn, everything north of his groin burning up, groaned the second her lips touched his, ploughing his hands into her hair and deepening the kiss. He pulled back, pressing his forehead against hers as he sucked in air. He felt his control unravelling, as the urge to push her back against the lounge and ravage her pounded through his system. ‘I want this too much,’ he said on a husky whisper.

‘Good,’ she breathed, picking up his hand, placing it on her breast and muttering, ‘So do I,’ as she sought his mouth again.

Finn held her back. ‘Wait,’ he muttered. ‘Not here.’ Too many times they’d had rushed sex, hastily parted clothes and a dash to the finish line. Not tonight. Not in her state. He stood and held out his hand. ‘Your bedroom.’

Evie would have been perfectly happy with the lounge or the wall or the floor but she was touched by his consideration. But once they hit the bedroom he swept her up and she felt his control shatter on a guttural groan as he kissed her deep and hard.

And then they were pulling at each other’s clothes. Shirts and buttons and pants and zippers seemed to melt away as their hands sought bare flesh. And then they were standing before each other naked, his erection jutting between them. His hands brushed against her belly and he pulled away from her, looking down at it, looking down at where his baby was growing. He reached for it again, slid his hands over its rounded contours then slowly up over her breasts, fuller than he remembered, the nipples bigger.

He looked back at her face. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered.

Evie felt beautiful when he looked at her like that. When he touched her so reverently. ‘So are you,’ she murmured, pressing a kiss to both flat broad pecs.

She trailed her fingers where her mouth had been, trekking up to his shoulders, tracing the scars on his right shoulder before moving down to his biceps. Then slowly shifting, moving around his body until she was standing behind him, her fingers trailing over his back, finding the shrapnel scars she’d only ever felt before, each one breaking her heart a little more.

‘Did you get these the day Isaac died?’ she asked, dropping a kiss on each one, rubbing her cheek against the puckered skin of his back.

Finn shut his eyes as her kisses soothed and healed. It reminded him of the time she’d tried to offer him solace after he’d lost a patient on the table and for a moment in the operating theatre’s change room they’d stood like this, fully dressed, her cheek to his back, him drawing comfort from her simple gesture.

‘Evie …’

‘I hate it that you were hurt,’ she whispered, her lips brushing his skin.