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“I think what I like is working for Nic, honestly. The job is… it is what it is. It’s data entry, and answering phones, and managing files, and making copies. The clients are sometimes interesting, but mostly boring, not like on TV shows at all.” That makes him laugh. “Nic makes it worth the tedium, if that makes sense. He’s a good man.”
“I think you’re right about that, after seeing him this morning.”
I clear my throat. “I don’t like gossip.”
Finn frowns, shaking his head. “I’m not talking about his father. Nic warned me to be good to you.”
“He what?”
“He said I had better treat you with the respect you deserve,” says Finn with a lopsided smile. “The threat of bodily harm may have been implied.”
“Nic would never?—”
“Oh, I think he would.”
I press my lips together. I don’t know what to say to that.
“I promised him I’d be nothing but respectful,” continues Finn, a wicked gleam in his eyes now. “Unless you requested otherwise.”
A tremor of arousal shakes the breath out of me, and his eyes stay on mine, making sure I get the message. At that moment, the food arrives, and Finn finally looks away to thank the server. The meal is delicious, despite my sudden nervousness. I haven’t been with a man in ages, haven’t even wanted to be until recently, if I’m honest. Jeff made sure of that. But the way Finn looks at me, the way he makes me feel, I can’t think of anything else.
The conversation takes a lighter turn as we eat. I take my time, enjoying the anticipation.
The fresh air feels good on my overheated skin as we leave the restaurant. Finn takes my hand again—such a thrill, that small touch—and walks me to my car.
“So.” I’m nervous. I can’t help it.
“Natalie.”
I stop scanning the street and turn to face Finn. He brings our joined hands up, tracing them gently along my cheek before clasping my hand to his chest, stepping closer. Our breath mingles in the cold air.
I can’t wait anymore. I tip up on my toes and use his grip to pull his mouth down to mine. The first touch is soft and sweet, and through my own swirling thoughts or the sheer will of the man under my hands, it lasts and lasts and lasts, in full movie magic, with crescendos and strings and fireworks and everything.
Finn pulls back a fraction of an inch. My eyes feel drugged and heavy as I force them open to look.
“Natalie,” he says again, but there’s urgency, almost pain in it this time. Need.
“Take me home, Finn.”
I let him drive my car. Fifteen minutes feels like forever with Finn’s hand on my leg, stroking tiny patterns over the fabric of my skirt. Every now and then he runs a fingertip under the hem, tracing the stockings that separate our skin as though he’s trying to memorize the feel of them. By the time we pull into the parking lot, I’m twisting my hands in my lap to keep from grabbing him.
The second he shuts off the car, we’re at each other, no slow, sweet romance this time. Finn plunders, holding me as close as he can over the console that separates us. I want to climb over it, get closer, get in his lap.
“Stupid compact cars,” I mutter. His lips curve against mine. He pulls back a fraction, dragging my lip between his teeth, making me shiver in a way that has nothing to do with the cold outside.
“I’m just upstairs,” he says.
“I know.”
That puts a pause between us and I know he’s remembering, just as I am, that Nic lives next door.
“There’s no way he’s here,” I say. “It’s Friday evening, I’m sure he’s gone.” I have absolutely no way of knowing if that is true. I know about Nic’s volunteering schedule because I help keep his agenda at work, but I otherwise know very little about how he spends his time. It’s a reasonable guess, though: Friday evening, dinner time. Surely, the man dated.
That thought makes me feel weird, so I lock it out and focus on getting up the steps to their apartment building despite my weak knees.
Finn pauses at his front door and momentum has me pressing up against his back. He drops his forehead to the door with a groan.
“I haven’t made out in a car like that in years,” he says, his voice rough and low. “You drive me crazy.”
