Throb by Olivia R. Burton

THROB
     
    A Preternatural PNW novel,
2
     
    Olivia R. Burton
     
    Copyright © 2016
     
     
     
    “But it’s Valentine’s Day!”
    “It’s also a work day,” Veruca explained,
gently sweeping Finn’s hand away from the clasp on her pants, and
going back to tying her tie. “Just because you want to have a lot
of sex doesn’t mean the government’s declared today a national
holiday.”
    “It’s not just about sex,” Finn insisted,
trying for her pants once again. He didn’t have any on; the least
she could do was match his level of nudity. “I’m hoping we’ll eat
chocolates and cuddle, too.”
    “Even so, the government doesn’t believe
that’s enough of a reason to close the banks and give executives
the day off.”
    “Clearly the government’s never had sex with
Finn Doyle.”
    “I’m sure you’ve slept with someone in one
branch or another. You don’t exactly get names and job titles when
you’re really on a roll.”
    Finn screwed up his face, making it clear he
was thinking hard about his past partners. Veruca used the
distraction as an excuse to step around him and move to the corner
of her closet that held her many shoes. She’d chosen a deep
burgundy pantsuit and bright scarlet tie in honor the holiday, both
of which highlighted her dark hair and lovely Latin features. Finn
knew her well enough to get that just because she had to stand
around a boardroom full of lecturing, besuited managers and heads
of sales didn’t mean she couldn’t look snazzy doing it.
    Finally fully dressed and ready, she turned
to Finn, angling her foot so he could admire the shoes she’d
picked.
    “Good?”
    “You’ve never looked
hotter,” Finn said in his enticing Irish accent, grinning and
raking his eyes over her as if his gaze alone could strip her and
transport her back out into the bedroom. “Well, maybe when you’re
fresh from a shower. Or stretched out under me in bed. Or in the morning
in just a shirt, cooking … I can’t actually choose when you’re not
hot, really. I may need to investigate your hotness on a tactical
level to really make a decision.”
    “Later, darling. I will be home before
dinner. Don’t try to cook,” she warned, poking him in the chest
just hard enough that he took it as a chance to stumble back and
act mortally wounded by the insult.
    “It’s Valentine’s and you won’t even let me
play housewife and cook you a gourmet meal?”
    “Don’t blame your
inability to cook a gourmet meal on me, Mr.
Burns-Everything.”
    “I’m getting better!”
    She left him in the closet, sputtering
through a list of things he hadn’t burned in the last few months.
He had to keep cutting off mid-dish when he realized he had indeed
ruined some part of every meal. Finally, he caught up with her
slipping on her coat by the door.
    “Can I at least order you
something? A delicious pasta dish? Some chocolate ice cream and
expensive champagne to wash it all down? Maybe see if they’ll throw
in some fuzzy handcuffs just for fun.”
    “If you can find a restaurant that has fuzzy
handcuffs, be my guest. I doubt they give them away with packs of
crayons and kids’ menus, though.” Veruca leaned up, kissed him, and
then darted out the door before he could get his hand under her
shirt to unclasp her bra. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d
sent her out to the car to realize his sticky fingers had been
busy.
    ****
    Finn had no idea how to
pass the time with Veruca gone .
    Sure, she had no shortage of toys on her
private island, in her beautiful home. There was a fully loaded
gym, a heated indoor swimming pool that looked out on the chilly
winter scenery, an ornate, luxurious theater that would easily seat
forty, and boats docked in floating garages that he was allowed to
take out on the water whenever he wished.
    He’d only ruined one or
two things in each place, so he hadn’t yet been banned from any though he
certainly wasn’t going to risk another boat crash, so fun runs