Filthy (Five Points' Mob Collection #1) - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,159

and when/if we had kids, I wanted them to see that their mom was more than just something to prop up their father’s arm.

And even as that thought raced through me, I gaped at him.

“What is it?” he demanded, striding away from the wall he’d been leaning against to reach me. “Are you hurting?”

I batted at his hands when he tried to hug me—honestly, the man’s hugs were delicious but they weren’t exactly a dose of Ibuprofen. “Finn,” I whispered, my revelation still powering through me.

“What is it?”

“I just thought of myself as a mother.”

He snickered. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Seriously. I don’t even like kids,” I wailed. “Jesus.” I slapped my forehead with the back of my hand. “This is your fault.”

“You want my babies,” he teased, grabbing my hips and rubbing our lower halves together.

Shit. I did.

The thought staggered me.

On the few occasions my mom had raised the topic of grandkids, I’d always rolled my eyes at her. And when he’d mentioned my not taking the pill? Yeah, that had been like a knock to the head.

But I could easily see it now. Even in this place. I could imagine having a nursery or something so the baby could be with me while I worked, and I could nurse—

Fuck. This was getting freaky now.

“Hey,” Finn murmured, reaching up to cup my chin. “It’s okay. No rush, remember?”

I nodded at him, but it was the way I’d gone from never wanting kids, to Magdalena pissing me off by trying to pressure me into having them, and then onto this.

He rubbed my bottom lip with his thumb, and urged, “Go on. You were telling me your plans.”

I released a sharp breath. “I figure if I’m home by two, then I have a little time to myself. I can make us dinner and then when you’re home, we can do… whatever.”

If my cheeks burned at that, well, that was because it was still pretty difficult for me to go from New York’s oldest virgin to talking about getting hot and heavy with my husband on the regular. Well, outside of the bedroom. In it, my skills with dirty talk were improving.

He laughed, not upset by the notion. “I like the idea of… whatever.”

“Hoped you might,” I mumbled, then staring at him, I asked, “Is it really over, Finn?”

“What? With the Colombians?” He cocked a brow at me when I nodded. “You think I’d have let you off the compound if it wasn’t? We have a new ally. That will keep us safe until the next round of bullshit.”

It was that ‘next round of BS’ that concerned me.

He seemed to sense that though, and whispered, “Aidan’s scared of no one, and he respects the Russians, Aoife. There’s a reason for that. We’ll be tied to them soon enough.”

“Tied? How?”

“One of the brothers is marrying one of their daughters.”

I gaped at him. He’d mentioned this before but now? It sounded concrete. “It’s like something from an episode of Downton Abbey.”

He shrugged. “That’s the way it works. I’m surprised he hasn’t done it sooner. With five boys?” He whistled. “He’s in a prime position to secure our streets for a long time.”

Even though I was still astonished by the prospect of an arranged marriage, I had to snicker. “An Italian bride, a Latina, a Russian… That’s only three.”

“Maybe the last two can marry for love like I did,” he told me, and my heart seemed to freeze in my chest as he uttered those words, so goddamn nonchalantly I wanted to scream.

“That is not the way you tell your wife you love her,” I argued, but because of his admission, I felt so empowered that my chest swelled with confidence.

This man loved me.

This crazy, impossible, dangerous man loved me.

“Isn’t it?” he argued, grinning down at me. “How about this?” He dipped his head and kissed me. Long, and slow, and wet. Ugh. So fucking perfectly wet. Then, he raked my bottom lip and I waited in breathless anticipation for the bite.

When it came, I moaned low, the sound reverberating through my chest.

The pain was exquisite, and the sensation of his teeth marks as I wiped the sore area with my tongue was even more delicious.

“I love you, Aoife,” he whispered, his ice-blue eyes not so icy.

“I love you, Finn,” I told him, my heart in my own emerald orbs as we looked at one another as though the sun rose and set on no one else but us.

His smile wasn’t cocky like I’d anticipated, instead, he whispered,

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