Chapter 11 Finley
ELEVEN
FINLEY
I’d love nothing more than to feed your cravings.
Theo’s words echo in my mind as I lie in bed, aftershocks from my second orgasm of the evening passing through me like electricity.
I should probably be ashamed of how quickly I bolted upstairs after reading his text, the ache between my legs becoming more commanding with every step I took.
I got myself off with just a few rough strokes of my fingers, imagining Theo on his knees while he fed my real cravings—the ones that have nothing to do with food.
Did I feel bad after? A little bit. Not enough to stop me from doing it again a few hours later, but whatever.
I know I need to be careful. Blurring the lines between friendship and more is a slippery slope, but the man has made it impossible not to swoon since I got here.
Not only is he selfless and kind, but I’ve never felt more comfortable and accepted by anyone.
With Theo, I never wonder if he’s judging or being disingenuous, because he isn’t capable of either. And it turns me the fuck on.
Cue the internal groan.
Hopping out of bed, I adjust the sleep shorts I couldn’t even be bothered to take off, walk to the bathroom, and wash my hands.
A quick glance in the mirror tells me that I went a little harder on that last round than I thought, resulting in a mess of red knots on the sides and back of my head.
Thankfully, it’ll be bedtime soon, so I quickly run a brush through my tangled hair before piling it into a bun.
I enter the hallway, my eyes landing on Boner as I approach the stairs. He’s got his stare pinned on me, a captious expression written across his adorable face.
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Don’t judge me.
You have no idea what kind of hormones I’m dealing with right now.
It’s torture.” His response is a befuddled tilt of the head as his fluffy tail slaps against the floor behind him.
I giggle, scratching his ears for a few seconds before heading down toward the main floor with him hot on my heels.
But as soon as the muffled sound of the garage door bleeds through the wall, he’s barking like a madman, his clumsy paws sliding across the hardwood floor as he attempts to gain traction.
“I’m home!” Theo shouts moments later, and I have to bite down on my bottom lip to hold back the smile that’s threatening to split my features. He’s only been gone a day and a half, but by the way my insides are practically vibrating right now, you’d think he left years ago.
Get your shit under control, Finley. He’s a nice guy who’s paying you to watch his dog while you crash in his guest room. A friend. That’s it.
My mental pep-talk works for approximately three seconds, because as soon as he rounds the corner, I’m right back where I started.
He’s wearing a pair of sinfully snug gray sweatpants, a purple Renegades hoodie, and a backwards cap.
His sandy-brown hair curls out from the bottom, causing my fingers to twitch at my sides with the desire to run through it.
My gaze wanders, locking onto his sparkling blue eyes and crooked white grin, everything I told myself moments ago falling away as the corners of my mouth tug up against my will.
Before I know it, I’m flashing him a full-blown smile, unable to ignore the butterflies that are flapping around wildly in my stomach.
“There she is,” he says, erasing the space between us and pulling me into a hug as soon as I’m within reach.
Even though it’s a little unexpected, I melt into the embrace, snaking my arms around his neck and returning the gesture.
All my raging emotions settle, my heart rate slowing as we linger in each other’s hold.
“How did I miss you so much when I feel like I just left?” he says with a soft chuckle.
The whole situation should be confusing.
It should raise a million red flags that there’s not an ounce of awkwardness between us anymore, but it doesn’t.
That’s obviously something I’ll have to unpack later, but for now, I’m just going to enjoy the way it feels to have somebody like Theo Calloway in my life.
“Are you talking to me, or the dog?” I joke, and we both look down to where Boner sits at our feet, his eyes bouncing between us as his tail swishes back and forth happily.
“Neither,” he drawls with a teasing smirk. “I was actually talking to my little sweet potato.”
“Your sweet potato?”
“Yep,” he replies, lowering to his knees in front of me.
I go rigid at first, dirty reminders of tonight’s fantasies playing like a slideshow in my head.
But it all fizzles away when he carefully cradles my stomach in his large hands.
My heart gallops in my chest, and I swallow the lump in my throat as he leans in slightly.
“I was reading a book on the plane,” he mutters as though the baby can hear. “You’re the size of a sweet potato right now. You have fingernails, too. It’s been a while since I painted anyone’s nails, but I promise to work on that before you get here. Maybe your mama will let me practice on her.”
I’m grateful when he continues, his attention focused on my tummy as he talks about her new taste buds and all the fun snacks he’s going to give her, because the whole situation has me overwhelmed with emotion.
I never knew my real dad, and it’s very likely that my daughter will suffer the same fate.
I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for doing this to her—for not giving her a strong, loving father like I’m sure Theo will be to his own kids one day.
I just hope I can be enough on my own, so she doesn’t grow up like I did, wondering why her own flesh and blood doesn’t want her.
Pain and sorrow pull at my heart, and a single tear slides down my cheek. I do my best to bat it away quickly, but he catches the motion as worry passes over his expression. In an instant, he stands to his feet, takes my face in his palms, and settles his tender gaze on mine.
“It’s going to be okay, Fin,” he says as though he has a direct line to the deepest parts of me.
It’s like he sees the scared, insecure little girl who just wanted someone to tell her that she was enough, and is giving her grown-up counterpart the reassurance she’s always been so desperate for.
“You can let your guard down and enjoy the little moments. I meant it when I said I’m here… for both of you.”
His words are like a soothing balm, reminding me that I’m missing out on so much by letting resentment and fear overtake an otherwise beautiful experience.
I deserve this, and so does my daughter.
Because one day, she’ll want to see pictures and hear stories about how she came to be—and I want her to know how excited I was for her arrival.
I nod, unable to speak with the emotion that’s clogging my throat.
If you’d have told me a few weeks ago that I’d not only be living with Theo Calloway, but that he’d be my biggest supporter while I figure out what comes next, I wouldn’t have believed you.
Back then, he was just one of the hot VIPs at Club Tilt.
But now, he’s the reason for the lightness in my chest that I haven’t felt for a long damn time.
“Atta girl,” he praises, wrapping his arms around my body and pulling me close.
I inhale his soft, clean scent, which I’ve noticed is different than whatever he used to wear to the club.
Even though I was convinced he hated me back then, I’d still lean in a bit closer while serving him, just to get a whiff of his deliciousness.
“What made you switch colognes?” I blurt, happy that he can’t see the way I cringe against his chest. If he’s taken aback by my off-the-wall question, he doesn’t let on; his quiet chuckle rumbling along my cheek as he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of my head.
“Veronica from Tilt said that men’s cologne was making you sick, so I stopped wearing it. Whatever you’re smelling now is probably just my laundry detergent. Is it too strong?”
I pull away, my head rearing back in surprise at his answer.
He’s right. There was a point earlier in my pregnancy, where the blended aroma of every high-end fragrance on the market was too much.
I’d tolerate it as long as I could, but by the end of the night, cookies would be tossed multiple times.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I reply, completely awestruck. “I honestly thought you hated me. You were always so short when I tried to make conversation.”
He loosens his hold but keeps his hands on my hips, blowing out a breath. “You want to know the truth?”
“Probably not,” I mutter sarcastically. “But tell me anyway.”
His expression softens, all the humor behind his eyes fading into something raw and vulnerable. The heat from his fingertips burns into the skin under my shirt as his grip tightens, and he swallows thickly before shocking me with an admission I definitely didn’t expect.
“You were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
” He shakes his head slowly, almost as though he can’t believe what he’s saying.
“I never have trouble speaking to anyone, but whenever you came close, it was like all the oxygen was sucked from my lungs. You’re special, Finley Bolton. There’s no other way to explain it.”
My breath catches as I process his words.
I want to push up to my toes and kiss him until our lips are swollen and we’re desperate for air, but I know I can’t.
It’s one thing to fantasize about those things, but I’m afraid to put what we have in jeopardy.
He needs me here to care for Boner, and I really like the way it feels to have a purpose—and a place that feels more like home than anywhere I’ve ever lived.
Risking that for a kiss seems crazy, no matter how badly I wish I could.
There are a million things I want to say, but every one of them seems like too much or not enough in this moment.
I can simply thank him for the compliment, or I could be as honest as he just was by telling him that he wasn’t alone in how he felt.
Being a server meant staying professional, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t linger around his table or throw extra cherries in his drink to get him to talk to me.
“I think you’re pretty special, too,” I say with a soft smile, earning one in return.
I love how things with us are so easy and uncomplicated, which is why I want to keep it just like it is.
The subtle touches, hugs, and harmless flirty banter make me feel like everything is going to be okay.
With him, I forget about all the ugliness in the world and just exist, knowing I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
“Good,” he replies, the dimple in his cheek sinking in as his grin becomes wider. “Now, come on. There’s a container of chicken tenders in the kitchen with your name on it.”