The Cleaner (Professionals 9)

"And, to be fair, many of us don't maintain any friendships by choice anyway, so that isn't the best way to judge someone's mental health."

"You have friends."

"I have online friends. I doubt your shrink, or any shrink for that matter, would count that as equal to in-person friendships."

"What about the people from your Murder Mystery parties?"

"Many of them are strangers."

"What about those guys... the couple..."

"Marc and Lawrence," I supplied.

"And the other one..."

"Blake."

"Yeah, them."

"Outside of the parties, and the planning of them, I haven't really hung out with them. Well, Blake once."

"In a more than hang-out way?" he asked, but not in a possessive, creepy way, just curiosity.

"Well, I didn't think so until I got there, but yeah."

"Why didn't you think so?"

"Blake wasn't my type."

"And me?" Finn asked.

"Well, to be honest, you're not what I would call my type either. What about me? Am I your type?"

"I don't have one."

"Oh, come on. Everyone has one. You won't offend me."

"No, really. I don't date, Poppy. So, I don't have a type."

"Never?" I asked.

"Nope," he confirmed, gaze sliding away.

"I'm the exception then, huh?" I asked, nudging him with my shoulder.

"Don't let it go to your head," he teased, shooting me a small smile.

"Who are you kidding?" I asked, watching as Yogurt attempted to make friends with a bee, only to be bitterly disappointed by its disinterest in her. "I am going to be riding the high of this power trip for weeks. Talk about pussy power, am I right?"

It was a joke.

But the second the p-word was out of my mouth, his gaze snapped to me again, immediately heated.

And as for my dirty mind, well, it went right ahead and flashed back to Finn down on his knees in front of me.

My heartbeat sped up as my breathing got quicker, and more shallow.

"Hey," Finn said, voice unexpectedly soft. "Just so you know, I'm not... expecting anything."

"Well, that's a problem for me," I declared, putting down my coffee mug. "Because I am expecting things," I told him, putting my hands on his shoulders, moving to straddle him. "I am expecting a lot of things," I added as I settled on his lap, feeling his tentative hands slide up from my knees to my hips.

"Yeah?" he asked, eyes open and vulnerable.

"Oh, absolutely," I told him, leaning forward to press my lips to his.

I didn't care how long it had been, how long it might take for us to find our rhythm because of that. I just wanted him. I wanted him with an intensity that had only managed to grow since I'd seen him last.

One of Finn's hands slid up my spine, grabbing the back of my neck as he leaned forward, tilting me back.

A surprised squeal escaped me, muffled by his lips, as my hands wrapped around him, holding on as his tongue moved inside to claim mine.

My legs moved behind him, anchoring around his lower back as my hips did a shameless little wiggle against him, feeling his hardness rub where I needed him most.

"Finn," I whimpered as his lips broke from mine, but only to allow his tongue to trace down my neck, a move that made a shiver move down my spine. And we're not talking metaphorically here. A shiver moved through me at the sensation, something I wasn't sure I'd ever experienced before.

"Finn," I moaned, just barely holding myself back from doing another wiggle. "Unless we want to put on a show for my nosy neighbor, we should move inside," I told him, seeing the terrible guitar strumming playboy watching from his bedroom window.

That growling noise I found so sexy moved through him, reverberated through me, as his hands moved down, sinking into my ass as he slowly got to his feet, pulling me with him as he stood, turned, and moved us into the house.

Slamming me back against the wall, his hand moved from my hip, blazing a path upward, closing over my breast through the fabric of my shirt.

Finn waited for the tip-tap of Yogurt's nails on the floor before reaching out to pull the sliding door closed.

Only then did his hand go up under my shirt, calloused fingertips blazing a trail up overheated skin.

His calloused hand closed over the swell of my breast, squeezing hard enough for me to suck in a breath before easing up, his thumb stroking around my hardened nipple in soft circles.

"Finn," I whimpered, needing more.

Luckily, Finn wasn't about to make me wait.

His head lowered, his lips closing over my nipple, sucking it into his warm mouth, making a surge of desire so intense move through me that I damn near came right then and there.

"Finn, please," I whimpered, frustration building when the position didn't allow me to grind against him, to get the relief the friction might offer.

Blissfully, Finn was happy to oblige, lowering me down onto my own feet before plunging his hand under the waistband of my pants and panties, wasting no time as his fingers thrust inside me, stroking lazily as his thumb found my clit.