How Sweet It Is by Kate Perry

birth control pills, and I’ve been tested, if that makes a difference.”
    “I’m clean, too.” He studied her. “Are you sure?”
    She shrugged. She wasn’t sure about anything. This was all a first for her. Thank goodness she’d known well enough to have a battery of tests done after she’d kicked Charles out, to make sure she was disease-free.
    “Normally I would stop without protection,” he said.
    “Don’t stop,” she implored, pulling him down by his collar. She kissed him, in case he had doubts about her sincerity. “Please.”
    “Do you have unprotected sex often?”
    She laughed, and then the startled look on his face made her laugh harder. “I haven’t had sex in so long that you may not be able to get in.”
    His eyes focused with the challenge. “I’ll get in,” he said, his voice husky with promise. “You’ll open for me and let me in.”
    To her surprise, instead of becoming forceful like she’d have expected, he became conscientious and sweet, paying special attention to her and making sure she was with him every step of the way.
    It wasn’t a hardship—she wanted to be there. She closed her mind to the doubts that this might be a mistake. No thoughts, at all. She wanted him to take her.
    He slid into her, and she cried out with the delicious pinch of the sensation.
    “Viola,” he muttered before he took her mouth in a passionate kiss.
    She arched into him as he pushed into her, and she gasped. His hand snaked behind her waist, angling her closer.
    Suddenly everything changed. What was delicious was vital. “I’m going to die,” she panted.
    “Die for me,” he urged her.
    And then his hands and lips were everywhere.
    She tried to ground herself, but she couldn’t breathe, so she just held on and hoped her sisters would take care of Chloe if she did die.
    Was it possible to die of pleasure?
    In his hands, yes.
    She clutched him. “ Finn. ”
    “Yes,” she heard him say as she broke apart. She felt him stiffen and follow her into bliss before his weight collapsed on her.

Chapter Eleven
    Finn woke up with a kink in his neck from falling asleep on the settee. It was pitch black, and he was alone.
    He looked all over for a trace of Viola—something that’d prove that she’d actually been there and not a figment of his imagination. He found nothing.
    That bothered him more than he liked.
    Reaching for his pants, he remembered the way she looked under him—over him and next to him, too. They hadn’t stopped at just one time.
    She’d been fairly fabulous.
    He pictured the spark in her eyes, her slight curves, her luminous skin, and his fingers itched for his paintbrush. Following his muse, he pulled the rest of his clothes on and went to the back of his workshop.
    He set the canvas he’d been working on aside and lifted a fresh, large one. He took a piece of charcoal and sketched a few outlines as guides before loading his palette with paint—all deep jewel tones, with French blue for her eyes.
    Sometimes, a painting took a while to form in his mind. This one came to him with wonderful clarity. He lifted his brush and began.
    A banging on the door startled him out of his trance. He looked up, surprised to see the weak mid-morning sun streaming in through the windows.
    The banging began again, and he went to answer the impatient person at the door.
    Marcel stood on the threshold, a cappuccino in his hands and irritation in his eyes. “You’ve forsaken me,” the man said as he walked in and handed him the cup.
    Finn inhaled the coffee’s aroma and took a sip, sighing in pleasure as the hot beverage warmed its way down his throat. “This is perfect.”
    “I braved Anne-Marie to bring this to you, I hope for good reason.” Marcel pointed at him. “You had better clean the paint from her dishes before you return them, because she’ll blame me.”
    He glanced down, surprised by the color on his fingers. He downed the cappuccino and set the cup on his restoration table to