Page 28 of Daring to Love

He groans, sending my tummy in o a flurry of butterflies.

“Sweetheart, you don’t tell a bloke you kissed a matter of days ago that you’ve just come out of the shower and don’t make him instantly hard.”

His crude words make me gasp.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” I breathe.

“Believe it,” he whispers. “Fuck, Amelie, I haven’t stopped thinking about you…wanting you. I’m going mad.”

Oh, my…I smile slowly, in awe that I can make a man like him crazy. It’s a heady feeling – unknown, yes, but I trust my instincts, and of this I’m sure: Finlay Jensen wants me.

“Let’s talk about something else, then.”

“Right, right.” There’s a brief pause between us, and I settle down further, crossing my ankles.

“I hope you’re having a good day?”

I grimace at myself. What a vapid question is that?

He chuckles, and I can’t stop smiling even though I can’t see him.

“It’s okay, I guess. Actually, the reason I wanted to talk with you you is that your solicitors have sent our legal department all agitated.”

“Oh? How?”

“I don’t speak their language, sweetheart, so I’m not sure, but the bottom line is that it seems it’s going to take another couple of days before I can interview you.”

“Hmm, I see.” I shrug. “Well, if that’s the way it is, then I suppose there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“Yeah, so…I guess I don’t know when I’ll see you again, and…”

Instantly, my heart flurries and my pulse pounds in my ears the longer the silence drags between us. I don’t know how much more of it I can handle it.

“And?” I whisper, holding my breath.

“And I don’t like that,” he admits quietly.

“Finlay…”

I don’t know what to say to his admission. I can feel the boundaries slipping between us, making it practically impossible to deny myself the pleasure of seeing him again.

“I’m not far from you,” he goes on. “Want to go get a cup of coffee?”

My lungs bursting for air, I remember to breathe, so I do, but hearing him asking me out on what sounds dangerously close to a date makes me blush.

“I thought you said you couldn’t date me?”

“This isn’t a date,” he grumbles, making my mouth quirk.

“Okay, then what is it?”

I pull at a loose thread in my sweater, the movement somehow soothing.

“It’s just two adults enjoying the unseasonably warm, Scottish weather.”

He is so bloody cute. Aggravating, but cute.

“You’re making it sound so simple.”