Chapter 90

The sound of Finnick’s voice jolted Vivian out of her daze. Blinking in confusion, her mind replayed his shameless question about his physique, and she felt an immediate, scorching heat rise to her cheeks. She looked away, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Seeing his wife’s obvious discomfort, Finnick raised an eyebrow, his mind already spinning with his next move.

Leaving his shirt casually unbuttoned, he navigated his chair toward her. When she refused to meet his eyes, he leaned forward and caught her chin between his fingers, gently but firmly forcing her to focus on him again.

“Vivian,” he whispered, his voice a low, masculine rumble. “Just watch all you want. I promise I won’t charge you for the view.”

Vivian’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. Is it just my imagination, or is Finnick getting more shameless with every passing minute? She had never met a man with such thick-skinned confidence. With no way to escape his gaze, she was forced to look at the firm, sculpted lines of his chest just inches from her face. Fearing he would see just how much he was affecting her, she scrambled to change the subject.

“Um... what do you think? Will your grandpa know that we didn't actually do... ‘that’ last night?”

Finnick’s brows rose even higher. He leaned back slightly and gave a nonchalant shrug. “Maybe. But so what if he does?”

“So...” The proximity was making her brain feel like mush. Words tumbled out of her mouth before she could filter them. “Do you think we’ll be scolded for not... finishing the job?”

Finnick’s lips twitched. “Vivian, what exactly are you trying to imply, hmm?”

Realization dawned on her a second too late. Her face turned a shade of red that rivaled a sunset, and she felt a sudden, desperate urge to hide under the covers. I’m such a fool! I’ve walked right into his trap!

“I... I didn’t mean it like that!” she stuttered, her hands waving frantically as she tried to backtrack.

He let out a light, melodic chuckle. “Then pray tell, what did you mean? Perhaps you can enlighten me?” He enunciated every word with a naughty glint in his eyes, his warm breath fanning across the tip of her nose. “Don’t you know that men have certain... needs upon waking up in the morning?”

Vivian was now the color of a ripe tomato. “I-I... I’m really not...”

Finnick had started this as a joke, but seeing her so flustered and flabbergasted made a genuine smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m just kidding,” he whispered into her ear. Vivian felt a brief surge of relief, but it was short-lived. “However,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave, “your concern is valid. Since there’s a grain of truth to the matter, we’d better do something about it.”

“Huh?” Before she could ask what he was planning, Finnick leaned down, burying his face against the curve of her neck.

“Ah!” Vivian gasped, her body tensing as she tried to pull back. But Finnick had anticipated her struggle. He caught her hands in his, pressing her gently but firmly back into the mattress.

“Finnick... what are you doing?” she faltered, her voice small.

A moist, itchy sensation crept across her skin. She could feel his lips working—nibbling and sucking at the sensitive area—while his warm breath sent shivers down her spine. Vivian wanted to protest, but as a tingling, sensual warmth spread through her limbs, she found herself in a state of confused, shivering pleasure.

After a long moment, Finnick straightened up slowly, a look of immense satisfaction on his face. He couldn't take his eyes off the dark red mark blooming on her fair skin.

Ignoring her mounting embarrassment, he whispered, “This should suffice, I think.”

Vivian finally found the strength to push him away. She scrambled off the bed and rushed to the mirror, her heart still racing. As she looked at her reflection, she was stunned. Her face was flushed, her eyes were sparkling with an unfamiliar, charming light, and her lips were slightly parted.

Is this really me?

But the aesthetic change wasn't what held her attention. Her eyes locked onto the unmistakable hickey on her neck.

“Finnick Norton!” she cried out, her voice a mix of shock and annoyance. “You... how am I supposed to go out and meet people looking like this?”

Finnick paced toward her with calm, predatory grace. He wrapped his strong arms around her from behind, pulling her into a loving embrace and resting his chin on her shoulder.

He chuckled softly against her skin. “I’m merely leaving my mark on you.”