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Now this guy.
I’m starting to think it’s less because I’m a great actress and more because of Fynn himself. In spite of his hasty exit yesterday, Fynn’s not a bad man. I know bad men and he’s not it. And I’m glad he has a few people looking out for him.
And since those people are helping me, it means they know I’m not like the rest of the women who come looking for him. I hope he sees it the same way after I make my proposition.
“Thank you.” I step back, letting the neighbor unlock the keypad on the door. “I’m Valerie.”
“Figured as much.” The man pushes the door wide and steps to one side. “I’m Gavin.”
I step into Fynn’s apartment and turn. “Is he going to be mad that I’m in here?”
Gavin laughs. “Hell yes he is.” He gives me a wink. “But it won’t be at you.” He points to the large leather sofa sitting in front of a row of floor-to-ceiling windows. “Make yourself at home.”
“Okay.” I continue to stand in the same spot long after Gavin shuts me in Fynn’s place, staring at the door.
Figured as much. That’s what Gavin said when I introduced myself. He knows who I am.
Knowing Fynn told his neighbor—and likely friend—about me sends a foreign sense of giddiness rushing through my limbs. I know this is just supposed to be a mutually beneficial, transactional sort of thing, but my body doesn’t seem to have gotten that memo. It is focused only on one very specific part of this whole plan and eager to close the deal.
The thought of imminent sex with Fynn is exhilarating and thrilling and terrifying and has me forcing air into my lungs as I dig around for the bravery I know I possess. I walked away from an entire life for God’s sake. Ran from dangerous men knowing what would happen if they caught me.
All because I wanted to be happy. To be free. To take charge of my own self.
And that’s what I’m here to do.
I spin to face the large space Fynn calls home, looking for a spot to deposit this stupidly heavy vase of flowers he sent me. There’s a wide marble topped island separating the kitchen from the rest of the open-concept living and dining area. It’s big enough I could lay down on it, so it should be big enough for these damn flowers.
I carefully set the vase on the counter. Once it’s down, I can see the blooms are beginning to droop. I drained the vase before I left so it wouldn’t slosh all over me, and the lack of water is starting to be a problem. I go into the kitchen in search of a cup, peeking into cabinets, trying not to be nosier than I have to be.
Luckily, I find a large plastic cup with the logo for the Cape Coral Swamp Cats in the second cabinet I open. After filling it in the sink, I carefully pour the water into the vase before setting the cup upside down to dry in the rack.
My eyes drag to the line of windows overlooking the water. The lure of the view has me walking across the condo, barely hesitating at the door leading to the deck, before pulling it open and stepping outside. A soft breeze lifts my hair as I lean against the rail, looking out at the ocean edging Sweet Side.
I didn’t intend to stop here, but I’m glad I did. Not only because it might be what saves me, but because I genuinely want to help Fynn. I know what it’s like to suffer because of another person and it sucks.
Hopefully I can save us both. I’m sure as hell going to try.
I don’t hear the door open. But I don’t really have to. I can feel the instant Fynn steps into the condo behind me. I turn to face him, my renewed sense of purpose straightening my spine and setting my jaw.
But then I see him.
And all my intentions fly away with the wind.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FYNN
VALERIE BERDARD IS in my apartment.
Looking fucking gorgeous as ever, propped against the railing of my balcony in a dress that is probably perfectly sensible, but on her looks positively sinful. It hugs every curve on her body and dips low enough the swell of her impeccable tits is on full display. Even the fucking shoes she’s wearing drag my mind to the gutter because I can imagine the elegant heels braced on my shoulders, her toes curling inside them as I fuck her.
I initially thought the consuming reaction I had to her was from months of complete celibacy, but looking at her now, I’m not so sure. Something tells me I could have taken her last night and this morning and still consider having her again right on that fucking balcony. Not just because of the way she looks and how responsive she is to my touch. But also because, even though I know I’m bad for her, I can’t help myself from craving her sweetness. Her softness.
That bloody laugh that reaches every part of me.
Valerie holds my gaze for a few long seconds before her shoulders lift on a deep breath. Then she’s stepping from the balcony into my living room, eyes fused to mine. As if she finds it just as impossible to look away as I do.
But as beautiful as the sight is, it doesn’t change anything. “What are you doing here?”
