“They do when my husband’s wearing them.” I grinned up at him. “You need to find me some pictures.”
He rolled his eyes. “You see me work out every day.”
Aela whistled under her breath. “This conversation is getting personal. I don’t think I’m old enough to listen in.”
“You’re older than me,” I derided, but my lips curved wider as I placed my hand on Finn’s abs and moved into him.
As the reporter went into details of how the hockey star had been kidnapped, I tuned out when Finn’s hand went down to my ass.
While he copped a feel, Aela sniffed. “What kind of mega star like that doesn’t have guards?”
“Hockey players don’t have guards,” Finn retorted. “Anyway, he’s an infamous hermit. Hates his privacy being invaded.”
“Yeah, well, because of that his home got invaded. In this day and age, everyone needs guards.” Aela grumbled under her breath, “Amateur.”
“You’re in a particularly gnarly mood, Aela. If a pound of brownies doesn’t do the trick, I’ll have to remind Declan that he needs to keep you sweeter,” Finn retorted.
“I’m sweet enough, and I’ll remember that when I’m immortalizing you for life, Finn O’Grady. Beware of the woman holding the paintbrush.”
Smiling, I patted his stomach again. “Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll get showered and changed.” Before I left, I asked, “Aela, you sure you can manage?”
“Betting Shay was more of a nightmare than Jake. Right, little dude?” she called out at Jake who was busy trying to build a skyscraper with blocks.
He ignored her.
She smiled. “I love a quiet kid.”
“Keep telling yourself he’s quiet,” Finn mocked, but he folded his arms across his chest as I left to kiss a grumpy Jacob goodnight—he was not happy about being disturbed. “Turn it up.”
Aela did as he asked, and I left to the sounds of news of the Irish prime minister’s upcoming arrival in the States.
A quick shower and I was no longer dusted in flour. It didn’t take me long to put on some makeup and to style my hair into a bun for ease.
With that set, I drifted into the bedroom and found the gown Finn had bought me lying on top of the comforter.
At first, I was surprised because it was black. He tended to buy me things that were red or green in color, but I was more than okay with that, especially when I picked it up and took in the elegant style.
It was cut deep at the front and at the back too so both my breasts and spine would be on display, but I knew it would cup my waist and hips to perfection.
As I dressed in some of my fancier Agent Provocateur panties, I managed to get into the dress. It knocked my bun askew, so I had to do it again, and as I was slipping pins in, Finn appeared in the doorway.
His gaze was hot as it trailed over my length, and he murmured, “I regret making dinner reservations now.”
I peeped a smile at him. “If you hadn’t, I’d still be covered in flour.”
“I like you covered in flour.”
Need crawled through my system. “You like me all the time.”
It was a cocky statement.
I didn’t even realize how cocky until, without even a blink, he nodded. “I do.” Finn stepped over to me, hand held out. “Ready, Mrs. O’Grady?”
Slipping my hand into his, I nodded and took him in, realizing that he’d switched sports coats because my floury fingerprints didn’t mar the silk. With both of us wearing black, we could have looked funereal but I knew we matched.
That was his end game.
His possessive stamp was merely enhanced as he slipped me against his side.
I knew Mr. O'Grady's best moves by now. Although he did have it in him to surprise me regularly.
On our way out, I peeped into the kitchen, saw Aela was still eating brownies and that Jake was focused on his building blocks, and I decided not to disturb either of them.
We headed down the hall to the elevator, and the second after the doors closed and he’d pressed the button for Verdi, he pinned me against the wall.
I’d expected that though—my bun was high enough on my crown that the flat of my head was flush to the wall.
See? I knew his best moves and how to accommodate them.
Smiling at him and feeling smug, I rested my arms over his shoulders and asked, “Why, Mr. O’Grady, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Mussing my wife up, Mrs. O’Grady. You were looking too pristine for my liking.”
I mock-gasped. “You like it when I look messy?”
He ran his nose down my cheek. “Makes me think of you when we’ve fucked.”
Sighing, I rasped, “You get to see that often enough in bed without me looking like that when we go out.”
“I like you pristine, messy, floury—all the adjectives.” I felt his smile against my cheek. “But if we’re heading to a fancy restaurant, and we’re Jake-free for the night, I want to see you mussed.”
The doors opened at a very inappropriate moment, but ours was a private elevator that served the penthouse so there was no one nearby to gawk at us.
Still, I pressed my lips to his and whispered, “I’m mussed. You can finish the job later. You promised me Chicken in Brioche.”
He pulled back with a grumble, “Never let it be said I don’t fulfill my pregnant wife’s cravings.”
I laughed. “Not sure I’ve reached the cravings part of things yet.”
Finn stunned me by dipping down to press a kiss to my still barely-there belly. “Wonder if it’ll be ice cream like it was with Jake.”
Warmth filled me. “You remember that?”
“Not like I could forget.” His eyes twinkled as he led me into the restaurant, his hand at the small of my back.
The heat of him there set off a slow burn ache in my core that didn’t dissipate when the maître d’ spotted us and guided us to the bar, nervously saying, “Your table will be ready in two minutes, sir.”
Reaching for his other hand, I squeezed it, knowing he wouldn’t like being kept waiting, and the guy looked suitably nervous.
“Fucking nerve,” he bitched under his breath when the maître d’ scuttled away.
“You’re too used to everyone treating you like you’re a god,” I chided, amused. I’d spent most of my life as a non-entity, but Finn was very much used to the perks of association with the O’Donnellys. “It’s good to come down from Olympus every now and then.”
“Olympus has its perks—”
Before he could continue, his phone rang. I recognized the ringtone and arched a brow. “Aidan Jr.?”
He sighed. “Yeah.”
“Go and answer it. By the time you’re done, we should be able to take a seat.”
“Sorry, sweetheart.” I saw the irritation in his expression but he pressed a kiss to my temple, muttering his thanks before he answered the phone and snarled at Aidan, “This had better be fucking good, jackass.”
Before he left, though the background music drowned him out, I managed to hear him mention something about Sullivan, Lucifer and ghosts, and I turned to watch him go in surprise.
Finn wasn’t exactly religious, so why the hell would he be talking about ghosts with Aidan? I knew Sullivan was one of the two Five Pointers who’d turned informant for the Sparrows… was he wishing him to hell?