So I Married A Rockstar - Season 2

Ch. 11: Do You Wanna Build A Snowman?

Finn came to me in my dreams that night, in the ripped jeans and grey vest that he'd worn onstage with Jude. He prowled towards me while I lay on the bed, his hair messy and dishevelled, his eyeliner smeared from the Jack Daniels that Jude had poured over his face.

Fuck, he was gorgeous.

As he drew nearer, he pulled the vest over his head, muscles flexing in his arms, and my heart jumped onto my tongue. Whisky droplets slid over his skin, heading down, down, down, and even though Jack wasn't my favourite, I itched to lick every drop off him.

Finn paused at the foot of the bed, his grey eyes raking over me, hot with desire. I felt pinned in place, breathing hard, aching and wet between my legs. His intense stare never leaving my face, Finn flicked open the top button on his jeans

I squirmed.

He leaned forward and trailed his fingertips up my leg, and suddenly I was naked, even though I'd been dressed at the start of the dream, and my knees automatically fell open, inviting him in.

The bed dipped beneath me as Finn climbed onto it. I rested my head on the pillow, watching him as he crawled closer, his hand gliding up my thigh, inch by agonising inch.

I wanted him to touch me more than I'd ever wanted anything. His fingers skated across my inner thigh, teasing the breath from my lungs, getting closer and closer –

I opened my eyes.

A soft cry of disappointment slipped out. If I couldn't have Finn in real life, at the very least I wanted him in my dreams. I rolled over and squished my face against the pillow, trying to ignore that it was obviously morning; if I could fall asleep again, maybe I could catch the rest of the dream.

But sleep, the fickle bitch, wouldn't come.

Shoving back the covers, I climbed out of bed.

Finn was lounging in a chair in the living room, one foot planted on the floor, the other dangling over the chair's arm. He held an open book with both hands, and two more were stacked on the coffee table.

He smiled when he saw me, and it was only small, a flicker of expression, but I felt it all the way to my bones. That tiny smile from Finn Donovan was worth more than a hundred kisses from another guy.

"I grabbed a couple extra in case you wanted them," he said, nodding toward the books.

I put a hand to my chest. "I'm touched."

I said it playfully, which earned me an eye-roll, but I was touched. Finn had been thinking of me.

After grabbing some toast, I curled up in the chair opposite Finn to munch and read. But I couldn't concentrate on either. Finn's books were thrillers, and definitely written with a male audience in mind, but that wasn't what I struggled with.

How was I supposed to focus on a book when the sexiest goddamn rockstar in the world was sitting opposite me?

I peeked at him over the top of my novel, part hoping that I'd catch him peeking at me too. But nope, he really was reading.

"What do you do with yourself all day?" I asked.

Finn looked up.

I waved a hand around the room. "You spend most of your time in the house, right?"

"Yes."

"How do you keep yourself occupied?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "There's no shortage of things to do."