Finnick Odair Book Novels & Stories

Finn removes his hands from my hair to cup my face and raise it to him. At first I worry I've done something wrong, but as I meet Finn's eyes, his are closed. His face is relaxed, his lips turned up. "Just... just, give me a minute, okay." He continues to breathe heavily from his position on the bed. Seconds pass with only our labored breathing between us. With a groan his hand moves out in search of the condom he tossed earlier. Satisfaction washes over me from Finn's response. He finds the condom as I consider giving him a final lick. My head lowers as his eyes open and spot me eying him with hunger. My lips are still wet, but I moisten them with my tongue again, another attempt to seduce

Later in the evening that day, when the sun had long since submerged behind the horizon, Finian pranced the front porch, rolling the coin between his fingers. He had discarded his heavy outfit and was in a simple sleeveless jersey and the chinos pants. Even the heavy shoes had been swapped for house flip-flops. The front door opened and Pippa stepped out, closely followed by Odessa, who smirked on seeing him. Pippa's attention was entirely on the small phone in her clutches, pressing at the backlit buttons rapidly like a typist.

"Can I come in?" My first instinct was to refuse, but curiosity won out. "Fine." The door opened slowly, and Fin stepped inside, looking so different from his usual arrogant self that I almost didn't recognise him. His shoulders were hunched, his expression guarded, and in his hands he held what looked like a large book. "I, uh, brought you something," he said awkwardly, holding out the book. "It's about Shadowmoon Pack history. I thought you might want to learn about where you come from."

Going back to the party alone wasn't an option because if I walked in there solo, Vanessa would win and give me that pitying look that said she broke me. Glancing at Finn again, I noticed him pushing his glasses up his nose and frowning at his book. However, something else caught my attention since his phone was tucked behind the heavy, hardcover textbook and resting against his thigh. The screen was glowing brightly, proving he wasn't studying liver enzymes at all but was instead reading something with a cover featuring a shirtless guy with glowing red eyes. A slow grin tugged at the corner of my mouth as the realization hit that The Monk reads trashy romance novels.

Hey beautiful people, Just a warning. This book is an erotica, which means 18+, so if you are uncomfortable with sex and adult shit, please don’t read my books. But if you are a nymphomaniac like me, go ahead ;) Also guys, for the better understanding of the stories, I’d also like to give you the order in which the books should be read: 1) Nathaniel Lachlan 2) Aaron Riverwood 3) Landon Chambers 4) Emily Warner 5) Danika Williams 6) Mary Redferne Elizabeth Paige Flashback AGAIN... I was running late for my class. As I walked through the corridors with books in my hand I silently prayed Danika Williams and her minions were not around, even if they were, hopefully Nathaniel Lachlan was aroun

“Or you’re very good at pretending.” “I can lift boxes,” I said. “And I don’t steal dust jackets.” Her mouth twitched. “Moira O’Rourke.” She jerked her thumb and a lanky man unfolded from the back like a rumor—tweed vest, kind eyes, smile that forgave bad jokes before he made them. “And this is Finn, who believes puns are a public service.” “Welcome to our paper church,” he said, leaning on the counter. “Interview question: dog-earing—sin or survival?” “War crime,” I said, deadpan.

Chloe asked as she and Harold walked out of the classroom. She was a great talker and listener, very confident, too, and… cool. Harold could sense those qualities and he appreciated them greatly although didn't commend her verbally. “I don't know,” Harold said. “What do you mean you don't know?” “I've never lived another life but this and since I don't know what it is like not being the pup of an alpha, I don't know what it is like being one,” he explained. “It is like asking you what it is like being… pretty.”

“What do you want me to say, Aela?” “That Finn is Aidan Sr.’s by-blow?” “By-blow?” Inessa repeated, her brow puckering. “His illegitimate child,” Aoife answered. “I need to get you hooked on historical romance next.” Despite myself, interest hit me. “You like romance books?” “Yes. We do,” was Inessa’s retort, but I sensed her bristling ahead of schedule. I raised my hands in surrender, because even though I wanted answers, I wasn’t a total bitch. Even if romance books hadn’t been my jam, I’d never give them crap about that. Someone’s taste was their taste, and I celebrated that.

Finn honestly replied: "Although we are scattered, we have always lived in small groups to support each other, and between groups are still in contact from time to time when necessary." Finn answered all the questions Uri asked. So Uri didn't ask any more questions but turned to look at Clement. In the dark, he half-closed his eyes but listened intently to Finn's story. "Dad, can you help me find some old books in the city library next time you come here?" "Of course it is." Clement looked in the direction of Uri's voice. "What book do you want?" "Old books about vampires and Genesis; the older, the better," Uri replied.

One month after Sophie’s wedding, Ava Harper’s apartment looked like a shared crime scene. Finn’s sneakers (nine pairs, she’d counted) were scattered like the house was a nursery house. His hoodie hung permanently on the couch. His “World’s Okayest Actor” mug sat on the counter, half-full of cold coffee he swore he’d finish “later” (he never did). The spice rack, once an alphabetized perfection, was now in “Finn’s flavor order”: hot sauce first, cinnamon last.