Free Throb by Olivia R. Burton Page A

out
on the water were out.
    Veruca had thoughtfully stocked her digital
library with as many old movies as she could find, and Finn had
gone through most of them. There were a few that he enjoyed enough
to watch over and over, but it seemed against the spirit of the day
to sit alone watching movies when he had a loved one coming home in
just a few hours.
    Deciding he’d fancy the
place up, Finn settled into the office, pulling up as many lists of
“DIY Valentine’s decorations” as he possibly could. He lost three
hours, fell down a Pinterest hole of kids’ Hanukkah projects (he
wasn’t sure how), and ended up with a half-dozen ideas that he figured he
was reasonably capable of pulling off in the six hours he had left
before Veruca got home.
    His stomach grumbled angrily when he pulled
the craft paper box out of its closet, though, and he abandoned his
first project to go make something to eat.
    ****
    Veruca laughed politely at Tim’s budget
joke, hoping discreetly checking her smart watch to see what alert
had popped up wouldn’t be read as boredom by anyone who might have
noticed. Instead of a stock alert or business email, she found a
text from Finn: a picture of a heart fashioned out of crudely
chopped red pepper. His naked penis was visible along the edge of
the frame and Veruca found herself snorting quietly, knowing he’d
aimed the camera that way quite deliberately.
    Then, hoping he would put
some pants on before trying to cook—or, rather, that he wouldn’t
try to cook at all —she lifted her gaze back to Tim’s presentation about the
Savannah property. It was one of the smaller boutique hotels that
charged an arm and leg but got mostly honeymooning couples and those
aiming for a romantic getaway. His talk of how much they were
spending on package items such as roses, bubbly, and chocolates
made Veruca think of Finn again. She wanted to believe he was
keeping himself busy in a way that wasn’t threat to the structural
stability of the house or any of her boats and briefly considered contacting
him asking that he stick to raw foods while she was
gone.
    As soon as a break was called, she grabbed
her phone from her bag, asked her assistant to set up her computer
for her presentation, and slipped out to send him a message.
    ****
    Finn was full of leftovers, happily humming
along to Dean Martin, and wiggling as he finished the
thirty-seventh link in his chain of pink, red, white, and blue
paper. He’d been unable to find purple paper, and the blue made the
chain look a little more Independence than Valentine’s, but he
figured Veruca would be fine with it. The gesture was personal and
he planned to distract her enough with sex that a few shades off
indigo wouldn’t matter anyway.
    His talent as a Sexual
Dynamo Heartthrob—the title he’d begged to get on a business card
but hadn’t been to allowed to order—wouldn’t go to waste just
because he was a little to the left on the color scale.
    There were only a few hours left until she’d
get home, and he’d done most of what he wanted to. Paper hearts
were plastered all over the walls, he’d covered the bedroom floor
in petals of the prettiest flowers he’d found growing around the
island, and ordered food. He was willing to chance another boat
crash to drive over to the small town across the water and pick it
up, getting home with just enough time to put on a nice suit and
set the table.
    He’d managed to give his testicles a paper
cut playing horseshoe with his penis and the loops of his paper
chain and didn’t want to endanger himself further by trying to
cook.
    Once the chain was taped up across the
kitchen doorway, he’d throw on some warm clothes and head out to
the garage.
    It only took him fifteen
minutes to find the tape, and most of that time was spent getting distracted
by the decorative mirror in the office and dancing seductively with
his own reflection. The song that popped up on the playlist was a
delightful instrumental that lent