Chapter 24
Millie
The door clicks shut as Finn leaves me snuggled between the girls. I offered to stay with them until they fall asleep, mostly
so I could steal a quiet moment to untangle my twisted jumble of emotions.
Finn designed an entire night based solely on something he knew I wanted to do. He set it up with Maggie, bought me an apron,
and laughed while we rolled croissants together.
And I loved every minute. But I can’t stop the overwhelming feeling that something has shifted tonight.
When Ave’s and El’s breaths are steady and deep, I slip quietly from the bed and down the stairs. I search for Finn in each
empty room until I find one I’ve never seen open. A pair of French doors off the living room are spread wide, leading to a
study lit by a single lamp.
Bookshelves line three indigo walls. The last wall holds a large window overlooking the moonlit front yard, and a broad wood
desk sits in front of it.
My gaze flicks to the ceiling, and I smile up at the black surface sprinkled with hundreds of tiny white stars.
When my attention moves to Finn, my smile falters. He’s all confident, relaxed masculinity as his broad shoulders cover the entire back of the plush armchair he’s seated in. His sleeves have been rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. Shadows hide his eyes, but I can tell his gaze is on me as he lifts a glass tumbler to his lips.
Right now, the invisible thread feels like a tug-of-war rope, yanking me toward him while I dig my feet into the dirt and
try to pull back.
I force my voice to say, “I’m going to call Lena to come get me.”
He tilts his head, and a wave of dark hair falls over his forehead like it refuses to be tamed. “Can we finish our game first?
We got interrupted earlier.”
“Okay.” I drop into the chair across from him, and the soft velvet seat caresses my skin. The tension in this round has already
escalated, and we haven’t even started yet. This version is completely different from the one at Maggie’s: Game of Firsts
After Dark.
He swallows a sip of his drink. “First thing you thought when you met me.” His eyes are a dare, like he knows I might resist
answering this one. He has a smug grin that tells me he thinks I’ll miss a point here to keep my secrets.
But he doesn’t know how competitive I really am.
I think about that first day, when I saw him charging toward the elevator with a tight expression, like a sexy-professor fantasy
come to life.
“I thought... I thought you were a grumpy asshole who wouldn’t get into the elevator with me. You looked like the idea
of sharing a small space was offensive.”
His eyes stay glued on me, unchanging as he brings the glass to his mouth for another drink before placing it back on his
thigh. “I knew that if I got on that elevator, I’d either ruin your day with my mood or have a miserable time not flirting
with you.”
My floozy heart thumps heavily in my chest. The ba-dum-bump blasts through my body, shooting warmth to every square inch of skin.
“Finn,” I whisper. “You can’t say things like that to me.”
His brow furrows with confusion. “Why?”
I throw my hands in the air like the reason should be obvious. Why do I have to say it out loud?
“Because you’re one of the people hiring me for the promotion I’ve worked toward for months.” I shake my head. “You’ll judge
my interviews and decide if I deserve the job. I don’t want to be a person who slept her way to the top, and as a woman, even
looking like I did is damning.” I sigh out a deep breath before adding, “And my traitorous heart is already so far past the friendship
line, that if we went any further with this conversation, I’m scared of how it would end.”
He shrugs. “I’m not.”
A scoff bursts out of me. “Of course you aren’t scared. No one blames the man in situations like this.”
“No, Millie. Listen.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, the nearly empty tumbler hanging between them. “I’m
not in charge of your job. I’m not one of the people deciding who gets it and who doesn’t. I dropped out of the interview
committee.”
My breath halts in my chest. “What? When?”
A muscle flickers in his jaw. “The Monday after you taught me how to make pizza.”
My stomach drops to my feet. That was almost four weeks ago. Nearly a month that I’ve spent hating myself for wanting the
man I couldn’t have.
“Why?” I whisper the words, almost afraid to hear the answer.
His lips kick up in a devastating smirk. “Because when you looked up at me after we spilled your coffee, with those little
butterflies on your shoulders and your bright, sparkly eyes, I wanted to slide my hands into your hair and drag you to my
mouth.”
I shiver at the thought, flashing back to the memory of the spell I was under in that moment.
“And when you crashed your car into mine, I couldn’t stop myself from scouring your body for any injuries, even though you ran into me . Then you fucking bent over to check my bumper.” He lets out a dark chuckle, and the devious tone sends a thrill up my spine.
“And my fingers literally flinched to touch you.”
My heart pounds unsteadily as he runs a hand through his hair before he continues.
“However, I could’ve pushed all that to the back of my mind and made a logical decision about who to hire. But then”—he shakes
his head—“you came to my house and lit the whole place up like a fireworks show. You laughed and had a dance party with my
girls and made me smile until my cheeks ached.”
His words soak through all the layers I’ve put around my heart, and the protection dissolves like sugar in hot water.
My rational brain has been raging at my heart for so long, trying to deny my feelings for Finn and his girls. I’ve fought
against that tug-of-war rope until my fingers might as well have bled from the pressure.
But now I want to abandon all the resistance. I want to fall into the feeling in my floozy heart and let it lead the way.
Maybe she knows what she’s doing.
Finn’s eyes haven’t left mine. He watches as I drag in a deep breath.
“Does that scare you?” he asks.
Bravery pumps through my veins. “No.”
“Does it change anything?”
“Yes.”
He licks his lips. “What does it mean?”
“It means we tied our game.”
Amusement dances over his face. “I’ll let you claim your prize anyway. Dare me to do something.”
I shake my head sadly. “I sure wish you didn’t kiss like a sheepdog, because then I might be tempted to try it.”
He straightens. Clears his throat. “I’ve gotten much better. I promise,” he says, his gaze dropping to my lips.
I let the words slip out. “I dare you to prove it.”
He keeps his intense focus on me as he slowly swallows the remaining liquid in his tumbler. This is my chance to backtrack,
and I think he’s giving me time to reconsider my words.
But I don’t want to.
Instead, I give him a subtle nod, and that’s all the permission he needs before he rises to set the tumbler on the desk. Then
he stalks to my chair and drops to his knees in front of me.
Silence stretches through the heavy air between us, and my lips practically buzz with sparks as he watches them like he wants
to consume them.
His face is a portrait of desire, and I file it away under “Man who intends to kiss a woman until she forgets her own name.”
He doesn’t look like he kisses like a sheepdog. This man knows exactly what he’s doing and has the confidence to prove it.
As he inches closer, heat pools between my thighs. He grips my knees, his fingertips sliding under the hem of my dress and
parting my legs easily, as though my muscles can’t find the strength to resist that light pressure. My thighs take up residence
on either side of his waist like they were meant to. Like they choose to live there now.
I lick my lips and watch my fingers grip the silky fabric of his shirt. “We aren’t very good at being just friends. I drew
a line, and we weren’t supposed to cross it.”
“Millie.” He rubs his thumb gently over the seam of my lips, then his fingertips move along my jaw, under my ear, and envelop the side of my neck. “Pretty sure I was erasing that line as you were making it.”
His eyes are as dark as the night sky, and I’m falling into them, drifting through space without oxygen or anything to tether
me. I’ll be completely lost there forever, and I’m still longing for it.
“Is this okay?” he whispers, muscles tense like a predator holding himself back for the perfect opportunity to strike.
I nod, leaning into the warm hand branding my neck. “Kiss me.”
He breathes a sigh of satisfaction before removing his glasses and setting them on the floor. Then he draws close, and I stop
breathing. I stop thinking.
Velvet soft lips brush against my jaw, and heat swarms to the point of contact. They drift to my cheekbone, the coarse hairs
of his beard scraping against my skin, leaving my nerves sizzling. Moving to my ear, he bites lightly at my earlobe, and it
sends a bolt of lightning straight to my core.
I try to suck in a breath, but it sounds more like a needy moan. His lips must be drugged, because I’m helplessly slipping
into a lust-filled trance, and my muscles have turned to mush with the slightest touch.
He pulls back with a devilish smile. “Look at you, already melting for me.”
Those navy eyes dip to my mouth, and I lick my lips, desperate for them to earn more of his attention. At this point, he really
could kiss me like a sheepdog, and I’d tell him he was a good boy. I’d worship at the altar of sheepdogs everywhere.
I’m breathless as he leans toward me with a singular focus until his lips coast over mine in a chaste kiss. Violent flames
ignite in my heart. A gritty growl rattles from his chest, and I savor it. I embrace it. I drown in it.
Running his tongue across the seam of my lips, he requests entry, and I immediately grant it. Moans leave both of us when his tongue reaches mine, the taste of whiskey and mint invading my senses.
His movements are slow as he kisses me thoroughly. Greedily. One hand cups my neck and jaw as he tilts my head the way he
wants it and consumes me like I’m the oxygen needed to sustain life.
My fingers dig into his hair, and I run my nails over his scalp, urging him not to stop.
A needy protest bleeds from my throat as he releases my mouth, and his lips move to my neck. Teeth graze my flesh. Groans
fill my ears.
I’m coming out of my skin with the sensations he’s creating. How can this feel so overwhelming and wonderful at the same time?
“Fuck, Millie,” he rumbles before his lips come back to mine.
The desperation in his voice spikes my confidence. I twist my fingers in his hair and kiss him back without restraint. Our
tongues slide against each other, and I sink my teeth into his lower lip.
Grasping my hips, he yanks me forward. My dress hitches up my legs as they spread wider to accommodate his torso.
Shivers rack through me as his hands run up the outsides of my thighs, and his fingers squeeze the skin there deliciously.
“You’re so perfect, stella mia .”
The only sound I can make in response is a shameless whimper.
I circle my arms around his neck, his skin hot to the touch. I kiss him like I’ll never get to do it again or like I’ll do
it forever—I’m not sure which.
Finn slides his hands out from under the hem of my dress and runs them up my back, pulling me closer until my breasts press
into his hard chest and the heat between my thighs rests flush against him.
I try not to whine as he releases my lips and dives for my neck again. He growls as he scrapes his teeth over my pulse point before soothing the spot with his tongue. His lips float back to mine, and we kiss in a whirlwind, alternating between soft, languid strokes and demanding, fierce ones.
Eventually, his grip loosens, and his kisses dwindle to lingering pecks on my lips and neck before he drops his face on my
shoulder with a sigh. I lean into the back of the chair, pulling him with me.
He tries to hold his weight off my body, but I need all of it.
I want to beg him to crush me. Steal my breath. It’s his anyway.
“Stay here tonight,” he whispers, lips brushing my neck. “Sleep in my bed. Nothing more has to happen. I just don’t want you
to leave yet.”
He can’t see my smile, but it beams for him anyway. “Okay, but I have to be on time tomorrow. Future department directors
can’t be late.”
“How about you take my car home in the morning to get ready for work and then come pick me up? I’ll make sure you get there
on time.”
***
Finn leaves me in his bedroom with a T-shirt that says, “It’s okay, Pluto. I’m not a planet either.”
After I change into it, I steal a chance to text Lena and beg her to take care of Pepper for me.
Millie: Are you home?
Lena: Yep. Just got back from my date. He was a bore. And he smelled like he bathes in grape jelly.
Lena: Where are you? How was your surprise?
Millie: Perfect. We had a private croissant lesson with Maggie. I’m bringing home all the tips and tricks.
Lena: No way. Finn is nothing but green flags!
Millie: I know.
Millie: Do you think you could let Pepper sleep in your room tonight?
Lena: Of course, but where will you be?
Millie: At Finn’s. I’ll be back early tomorrow before work.
Lena: I’m sorry, WHAT?
Lena: You explain right now, woman.
Lena: Don’t do this to me. You know how nosy I am.
Her last few texts come in a flurry, and my fingers freeze over the screen as I try to decide what to say back. How do I wrap everything up in a quick text?
The realization that Finn has nothing to do with my interview process is an immense relief. I can step into my trial run next
week with the knowledge that I’ve done nothing to negatively impact my chances.
I’m still going to make him pay for not telling me sooner, but at least I can move forward knowing that I’m not doing anything
wrong.
Finn opens the door, and I drop my phone to the bed like he just caught me doing something suspicious. He’s holding two glasses
of water and an extra phone charger as he pauses in the doorway, and his eyes land on his shirt hanging over my body. His
gaze tracks over every detail before he clears his throat, hands me the water, and plugs in a charger for me.
The bedroom carpet is soft under my feet as he leads the way to his giant bathroom and pulls out a new toothbrush.
We do a sequence of mundane things together: We brush our teeth, Finn turns on the lamp, I plug in my phone, and we both lift
the duvet on our own sides to slip between the cool sheets.
But none of it feels mundane at all when it’s across from the person who stars in all my daydreams and fantasies.
Finn leans against the headboard, shirtless but still wearing his glasses, with his hair a little mussed, and I can confirm
that it’s the sexiest thing a man could possibly do.
I can’t keep staring at that view, so I focus on the ceiling. We’re in bed together, Finn’s bare skin inches away from me,
and we literally just made out like the world was ending. But suddenly everything feels like too much. My view shifted too
substantially over the last hour, and I can’t process this new reality. I wiggle my feet, and my hands twist on my stomach
as I try to control my breathing.
“Are you nervous?” he asks.
Those are the same three words he said to me in that meeting weeks ago. The same three words that I assumed he meant with
mockery.
But it’s just Finn, checking on me because he’s worried about me, not because he’s coldhearted.
In fact, he’s completely the opposite.
His hand finds mine under the covers, and he brings it out to his lips, kissing the back once before setting it on his chest.
“Tell me what’s on your mind. We can figure it out together.”
That gentle reassurance soothes my nerves a little. “I’m scared. About a lot of things, really.”
He sets his glasses on the nightstand and scoots down to lie next to me. Then he turns on his side and nudges my arm until
I do the same, and we face each other with our hands between us. “Let’s go through them one at a time,” he says.
Explain what’s raging through my anxiety-ridden brain? Where do I even start?
“What are we doing?” I ask.
A small grin curves his lips. “What do you think we’re doing?”
“Well, we’ve been trying not to fall toward each other for months, and I’ve been beating myself up over wanting a guy I shouldn’t
have, and then we just got to the point where we’re talking about it, and I’m already in your bed.”
He lets out a satisfied hum. “Yeah, I love that part.”
I shove his shoulder lightly. “This is serious.”
He schools his face until only a little humor peeks out. “Okay. My honest answer is that I’ve been hoping we would get to
this point ever since I asked you on a date and you rejected me.” He narrows his eyes playfully. “But nothing has to be decided
tonight. I just like your company, and I don’t expect anything more.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you had dropped out? I could’ve stopped beating myself up a long time ago.”
He huffs a laugh. “I tried to tell you the night I asked you on a date, but you slammed your hand over my mouth before I could.”
“I did not slam my hand over your mouth.” I roll my eyes. “And you could’ve told me after.”
“It wasn’t the only reason you mentioned. You also said you needed time after your last relationship, so I was waiting until you felt more secure in that way.”
There’s a comfortable safety in this little cocoon we’ve made in his bed. It feels tender and gentle, and it pulls the truth
from my lips. “I’m still scared of being in a relationship. I don’t know how to be in a healthy one, and I’m afraid I’ll get
lost. I want to be able to trust you, but I also want to be able to trust me .”
Finn nods. “I want all of that too. How can I help you?”
“I don’t know,” I say with a sigh.
His hands wrap around mine, and they rest together between our bodies. “I’ve never done this. Never had a relationship like
the one I want with you, and I don’t have healthy examples in my life to learn from. But everything in me wants to make you
happy. Make you proud. Keep you safe. I may not know all the answers to everything in our relationship, but I know you can
trust me to try. You can trust me to be respectful and kind.” He slides a hand through my hair. “You can trust me to work
with you to solve anything that makes you uncomfortable.” He brings my fingers to his lips and kisses them softly. “I’m not
here to stifle you or control you or shape you into something else. I’m here to help you shine.”
A tear slides out of the corner of my eye and drips across my nose. For months, my emotions have felt raw and fragile, but
with every moment in Finn’s presence, they gain a little strength.
He draws me closer until I’m nestled against his chest. “I promise you can trust me.”