We both slip out at the same time, him reaching for my hand as we step onto the sidewalk together. The house is large, classic old Philly charm and well maintained. “It’s pretty,” I say, motioning forward.
“It was my Grammie’s. She left it to my mother, but Ma had me and Wren move in when she decided to retire in Florida. She knew we’d take care of it.” He shrugs. “I guess she was right.”
He’s making small talk. Finn isn’t shy around girls. I’ve heard enough about him to know that’s true. He’s trying to give me space, so I don’t feel pressured. But as much as I’m still a little nervous, I’m no longer afraid.
When he told how terrible he felt hurting someone weaker than him, it gave me insight to his character, and something more to admire. He’s such a good guy. My heart literally warms being at his side.
He unlocks the door, and flicks on the light, illuminating the cherry wood floors. He shrugs out of his leather jacket. As I unbutton my coat, I take in the room around me, so captivated by the rich feel of “home”, I barely feel him slip the coat from my shoulders.
Comfortable and classic-looking chocolate brown leather couches make up the family room, a dark wood and stone table at its center. To our right, French doors open to a small library, two comfortable and cushy chairs set in front of a brick fireplace, along with an antique secretary’s desk near the window.
“You like to read?” I ask, motioning to the shelves that take up every inch of one wall.
He laughs. “I used to, mostly fantasy.”
“Fantasy?” I question, stopping to try to make out the hardcover novels in the dimly lit room.
Again he laughs. “Harry Potter, the Dresden files―action-related fantasy. But I haven’t picked up a book in forever. When I train as much as I do, I either go out for a bit or come home and crash.” He leads me into the kitchen, his fingers playing with my hand as he walks. “Want something to drink?”
“Water would be great,” I say, taking in the wood beam ceilings. “I always wanted to live in a house like this,” I add, taking in the freshly painted plaster walls.
“Yeah? Why?”
It sounds stupid, but I tell him because it’s true. “It feels like a real home.”
He nods as if he knows what I mean. “It does,” he agrees.
He tosses his keys on the counter as we step into the kitchen. The cabinets are stained sage green and white granite with swirls of silver make up the counters. It shouldn’t work, but somehow it does, adding another degree of elegance to an already beautiful home. “Did Sofia help you decorate?”
“Damn right, she did.” He hands me a bottle of water from the stainless steel fridge. “Do you think me and Wren would have been able to pick this shit out?” He cracks open a bottle of his own and downs half of it before pointing. “We were going to go with black and white―the counters, cabinets, even the tile. Sofia didn’t want us to lose the classic look of the house―or however she put it, and really had to work to convince us. Hell, I’m glad she did. Wren’s friend, a realtor, stopped by after we finished. Said something about doubling the value just by preserving its structure―not that we’re going to sell―but it’s good to know.”
Finn leans against the counter, his ripped muscles bulging against his gray T-shirt. Dark jeans cover his strong legs and firm assets. But it’s his face and grin that draw me closer . . . and the knowledge that his powerful body will be on top of me all night.
He frowns at my approach, noticing I’ve only taken a few sips of my water. “Do you want to watch T.V. or something?”
My eyes fix on his. “No.”
The purr in my tone suggests I’m done talking. “Well, all right,” he says, pushing off the counter.
His arm slips behind my back and his mouth lowers on mind for a kiss. He smiles against my lips before leading me out through the other side of the kitchen, down a small hall and toward the bedroom. I catch a glimpse of a bathroom at the end before we enter a large bedroom.
Dark wood furniture a few shades lighter than the floor make up his room. There’s a framed MMA poster signed by Tito Ortiz near a king-sized bed with a leather headboard and a thick white comforter. A triangular rug with a pattern of white, brown, and gold squares lies parallel to the bed. It’s a simple, modern décor, but still very much Finn.
He releases my hand by the door, edging back to the bed and lowering into a sitting position. “Hey,” he says.
Seeing how much space he’s giving me, I’m beginning to wonder if he thinks I’m a virgin. But like I mentioned, I’m not.
I answer by unbuttoning the top of my black blouse and slipping it over my head. Finn’s eyes widen when my lacy mauve bra lands on the floor beside the blouse. Despite my petite stature, I’m pretty busty. And while Finn has played with my breasts, he’s never actually seen them. Not like this. His reaction stirs my blush, but also an impish grin.