by Roni Loren
“Yeah, I’m fine. But on second thought, I might take you up on going to bed,” she said quickly. “I barely got any sleep this week, and I’m beat.”
His gaze held hers, and she got the sense he was seeing every conflicting thought in her head, but his expression turned soft. “Absolutely. Go and get some rest. I’ve got this.”
“Thanks.”
He let go of her shoulder and dug something out of his pocket. He held it out to her. “This is a key to the main house and the code for the alarm. I didn’t know what to stock in your fridge or what extras you might want, so if you need anything—food, more blankets, extra towels, whatever—you’re welcome to come in and grab it. Just make sure to turn off the alarm. It’s on silent so it won’t wake me, but it will go off if the code isn’t entered within thirty seconds.”
She took the key and the slip of paper from him. “Thanks, but I’m sure I won’t need anything tonight. I’ve had more than enough.”
He shrugged. “Well, just in case then.”
She stepped to him, forcing herself to act like a normal human being, and leaned forward to give him a quick hug. “Good night. This was fun.”
He stiffened at the hug, and she shifted to pull back, but then he let out breath, loosened his stance, and wrapped his arms around her. “Yeah. I’m glad you made it out here.”
She liked the feel of him against her a little too much. He was warm and solid. Smelled vaguely of spicy chicken and campfire. So a win all around. She was lingering too long but couldn’t make herself pull away. She let the side of her face press up against his shoulder. “People should hug more. This is nice.”
“Liv.” The word was strained, tense.
“Hmm…”
“You should go to bed.”
The warning in his tone cut through her haze, and she quickly released him and took a big step back. “Right.”
He grimaced and turned from her. “See you in the morning.”
Her stomach tightened, his obvious need like a siren call. Two years. She wanted to touch him, to give him what they both craved, but he’d see it as charity and she’d wake up in the morning regretting it.
Before she could get herself in trouble, she turned on her heel and headed back up to the house, ready to plunge into an ice bath.
So much for a weekend of relaxation.
chapter
THIRTEEN
Finn swung his fist across his body and landed a solid punch to the bag, relishing the force of impact that traveled up his arm and into the muscles. Exertion. A little pain. Just what he needed to get his mind off what had kept him up most of the night. Liv by the firelight, looking at him like she wanted him. Liv wrapping her arms around his waist, her body soft and warm as she hugged him. The scent of her hair in his nose, the memory of how her lips tasted still fresh in his mind. He’d gotten away in time before his dick could stand up and embarrass them both. But just barely.
Sweat dripped off him as he threw another punch, the chain holding the bag creaking with effort. He forced the images of Liv from his head and tried to picture an opponent there in front of him. A guy with a gun and a bad attitude. Just because he was on a break didn’t mean he could afford to let his skills slip. He swung his leg out and landed a solid kick. Bad guy would be on the floor now, holding his gut. Take that, asshole.
Finn stilled the swinging bag and wiped the stinging sweat from his eyes. The early-morning rays were peeking through at the edges of the workout room’s blinds and scattering across the wooden floor. He wondered if Liv was up yet. Doubtful. They’d stayed up late, and she’d had a long day. Plus, when he’d known her, she’d been a night owl, not an early bird. Images of her curled up in bed next door filled his head. What did she sleep in? A T-shirt like she’d been wearing at the hotel? Nightgown? Nothing at all?
His cock flexed in his shorts, and Finn adjusted himself with annoyance. Focus, man.
He’d been pent up and turned on when he’d gotten back to the house last night, but he’d refused to give himself any relief. He wasn’t going to be some horny teenager, jerking off every time he hung out with a pretty girl. He had self-control now. He was a grown-ass man. He’d gone all those years undercover without sex and had survived.
But that was because staying alive and alert had been much more important. Hierarchy of needs. Staying alive trumped getting off. But now that he wasn’t on constant vigilance, his libido had rushed back in with twice the force. And having Liv around was like waving a red flag at a cooped-up bull. He’d had dangerous thoughts last night when he’d gotten back to the house. Unacceptable ones. Not thoughts of romantically taking Liv to bed. But thoughts of bending her over one of those chairs, stripping her down, and taking her roughly, making her beg for her release.
He’d never force anything on a woman. He trusted himself on that. But he’d spent so many years watching sex intertwined with violence that his fantasies had taken on a much darker tone than what he’d ever been into before going under.
Liv didn’t need him in her bed at all, but she certainly didn’t need that rough version of him. He took another swing at the bag, his knuckles stinging with the impact. This. This would have to substitute. Wear himself down and get the frustration out on the bag.
Another kick.
But now his mind was running down a forbidden road without any help. Liv sliding down from that hug last night and getting to her knees. Those long, elegant fingers undoing his belt and jeans. Those big brown eyes looking up at him with seduction, offering him respite from his self-imposed monkhood. His fingers in her hair.
Arousal pounded through him, his erection sliding against the soft material of his shorts, his blood pumping hard.
Liv…
* * *
The morning was gorgeous. Warm but not the blazing heat it’d be in a few hours. The breeze rattled the leaves, and birds chirped happily in the trees. Liv had woken at six after a fitful night of sleep and had decided to take her camera out for an early-morning stroll along the shore.
The weight of her Canon in her hand felt like spending time with an old friend and catching up. She’d forgotten some of the quirks and settings of the camera, but after an hour of snapping shots and test-driving some of her lenses, her confidence was coming back. She braced herself on her elbows and focused her macro lens to catch a ladybug making a purposeful walk across a leaf. The quiet click of her shutter was loud in the peaceful surroundings but soothing to her. Before all the media storm with Long Acre, some of her favorite times had that sound in the background. It was nice to reclaim it as her own.
When the ladybug decided she didn’t want to be a model anymore, scurrying under a bush, Liv rolled back up to her feet and brushed off her jeans. The sun’s rays were getting higher, and the light pierced her eyes. She squinted and held up her hand. Her head protested in response, the dull pounding that had started a few minutes ago going into full drum-corps mode.
Ugh. She’d hoped to not disturb Finn if he wanted to sleep in, but she’d hit the point of must-have-coffee-or-perish. She was beginning to see dots in her vision, which meant a migraine threatened. If she didn’t staunch it with caffeine and it hit her full force, her whole day would be a wash. She eyed the house and decided to take the risk. If she woke Finn, she’d fix him breakfast or something to make up for it.
She packed her camera in her bag and trudged up to the house. She’d tucked the key into her pocket and had memorized the code, so getting in was easy. She slipped in through the back door and found herself in an open-concept kitchen. She glanced around, taking in the living room and the small attached eating area. The house was all warm woods, stone, and glass—somehow pulling off modern and rustic at the same time. Beautiful. Elegant. And only a part-time home to someone, which seemed a damn shame.
She walked through the kitchen on silent feet and peeked down the hallway. Most of the doo
rs were shut, and everything was quiet. Finn had to be sleeping. His SUV was still in the driveway, and the coffeepot was dry as a bone.
Trying to be as stealthy as possible, she rummaged around in the pantry to find coffee and set it up to brew. While she waited, she picked through the breakfast offerings. Cereal. Instant grits. Granola bars. Some eggs in the fridge. Her stomach rumbled in response.
Not wanting to choose anything that would require a beeping microwave or the banging of pots, she grabbed a granola bar and polished that off while the coffee percolated. But right when the brewing cycle was almost done, she heard her name.
She frowned and glanced down the hallway. The word had been muffled, but she thought she’d heard Olivia. Maybe the coffee had woken Finn. Or maybe she was imagining things. Cautiously, she took a few steps down the hall. Sounds came from the door at the end on the left, which was slightly ajar.
“Olivia.”
Yes, definitely her name. But not calling for coffee. The grunting sound that followed it was definitely not meant for her ears.
Her breath caught, and she froze next to the door.
“Fuck.” The word was utterly male, ground out in a hoarse plea, and so damn sexy that her skin flushed instantly.
Her stomach clenched, and she couldn’t help but lean closer and peep through the crack in the door. There was a mirror on the wall that she could see, some sort of workout room reflecting back at her, but that’s not what caught her attention.
In the reflection a broad, shirtless back filled her view. Finn. Glossy with sweat. Head bowed. Athletic shorts riding low on his hips. And arm flexing.
The view and the slick sound of what had to be a fist over flesh were almost too much for her brain to compute, but her body certainly got the message. She pressed her lips together, sensation assaulting her. Finn was braced against the wall, stroking himself mercilessly and saying her name.
Her heartbeat jumped into her throat and pumped blood to every erogenous zone. She was not watching this. Absolutely not. She shouldn’t be here. She needed to leave. She needed to—
BEEP!
The coffeepot let out the shrillest, most obnoxious beep she’d ever heard, and her stomach dropped to her feet. The sound from the other side of the door stopped.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Liv took off down the hallway, trying to get back to the kitchen before the worst happened. She skidded to a halt at the counter, heartbeat frantic, and pressed all the buttons on the machine, trying to get the thing to stop screeching.
Right when it silenced, the sound of a door squeaking open came from the end of the hallway. She cringed, trying to will herself into a calm state, trying to tame the flush heating her cheeks.
“Liv?” Finn called.
“Uh, yeah, it’s me!” she said in an overly cheerful voice. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to wake you! Just making coffee!”
She closed her eyes, chiding herself for turning everything into an exclamation. No! I didn’t see you getting off! I’m completely oblivious! Do you take cream or sugar?!
The door shut again, and she managed to pour herself a cup of coffee before she heard the shower turn on. He took a few minutes, and she considered bolting but figured that would probably make her look even guiltier. When he finally stepped into the kitchen, she’d managed to down her first cup of coffee and cool her cheeks but not her too-fast heartbeat.
“Morning.” The word was gruff.
She turned, pasting a smile on her face. “Hey.”
He was in jeans and a white T-shirt, his hair wet and mussed from the shower. But she couldn’t focus on anything but the flush of color riding high on his cheekbones. The glow.
“I didn’t hear you come in. How long have you been here?” he asked.
She waved a dismissive hand, way too cheerily. “Oh, not long. Sorry if I woke you. I needed a caffeine fix but didn’t realize the coffeepot doubled as a tornado siren.”
His eyes met hers, evaluating. “That coffeepot’s the slowest I’ve ever seen. You must’ve been here a little while.”
Damn it. She kept her Stepford smile in place. “Guess I was good at being quiet and not waking you then.”
She took a long sip of her second cup of coffee, wishing it were spiked with something.
“You didn’t wake me. I was working out.”
“Oh. Great!”
Stop. Exclaiming.
He leaned against the island and crossed his arms. “You know FBI agents are trained to spot lies, right?”
She closed her eyes. Breathed.
“How much did you hear, Liv?”
Hear. Well, at least he didn’t think she’d seen him. She lifted her gaze to his and scrunched her nose. “Enough?”
“Fantastic,” he groused and moved toward the coffeepot to pour his own cup. “Can we ignore that you heard anything?”
“Yep!”
“Can you stop using the cheerleader voice?”
“Yep!”
He turned and gave her a sardonic look.
“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not sure why my voice is doing that. And I’m sorry I invaded your privacy. I really just needed some coffee.”
“I should’ve been more aware. Usually I hear everything. I didn’t think you’d be able to get in without me knowing.” He took a sip of his coffee, but she didn’t miss the wary look on his face.
“Well, working on that post-doc can be distracting.”
He glanced up, confused for a second, and then her comment registered. “The PhD level I mentioned last night. Weren’t we going to not talk about this?”
She gave him a sheepish look. “Sorry. I’ll stop.”
Though her thoughts didn’t stop at all. Like wondering if he got to finish. Wondering what he was thinking right now. Wondering if that color in his face was from orgasm or frustration.
He gave her a look like a teacher would give a naughty student, like he knew. He nodded at her camera bag, which she’d set on the island, and blessedly changed the subject. “So you look like you’ve been up a while.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep so I decided to go for a morning walkabout. Got some sunrise pics. Annoyed some wildlife.”
He finally let a half-smile peek through. “That’s good. Not that you couldn’t sleep, but that you’re already getting some camera time in.”
“I’m on borrowed time, so I figured I should squeeze in as much as I can.”
He nodded. “Have any particular plan of what you want to photograph today?”
She braced her hands on the island and pushed herself up to sit on it. “I don’t know. I was thinking maybe I could go into town. There’s an art park there. I’ve always preferred photographing people, but I need to flex my muscles a little first. Statues can make good subjects and don’t complain that you’re making them stay still too long.”
Finn smirked. “They’re helpful that way.”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “If you’re up for it, I could use the company. We could try out one of the new lunch places. Midday sunlight sucks for outdoor shots, so if we can kill some time until late afternoon, that’d be better. And I still have to grab a shower. I pretty much rolled out of bed and headed out this morning. Dawn is the magic hour. I didn’t want to miss it.”
He leaned against the counter, considering her over the rim of his coffee cup. “You should see yourself right now.”
She tilted her head and patted her hair. “What? Am I scary bedhead or something? I’ve been crawling around on the ground.”
“You do have grass in your hair.” He laughed and leaned over to pluck out a blade. “But I mean you should see how excited you look, like a little kid preparing for Christmas. This totally does it for you.”
She gripped the edge of the counter and swung her legs. “I am kind of excited. I got a kick-ass shot
of a ladybug today. I know that sounds stupid—”
“It doesn’t.”
She rolled her lips together. “Thanks. I guess I still feel like this is kind of indulgent, putting work aside to futz around with my camera.”
He pushed off the counter and tugged on a lock of her hair. “Nothing wrong with indulging sometimes.”
Her lips curved. “Guess we both indulged some this morning then.”
His expression darkened. “Arias.”
She laughed and slid off the counter, feeling small with him towering over her. “If we can’t joke about it, then it will just turn into another awkward thing. Let’s not do that to ourselves. If it helps any, I worked on my post-doc last night, too.”
She patted his shoulder, and his face went slack. “That doesn’t help at all. That is the complete opposite of helping, Olivia.”
She turned, grabbed her camera, and headed to the door, giving him a wicked grin. “Sorry. See you in a little while.”
Before she stepped outside, he called out to her. “I don’t remember you being this evil.”
“Then your memory is failing you.” She gave him a little wave and shut the door behind her, feeling lighter than she had in a while.
chapter
FOURTEEN
Finn sat on a bench in the art park, watching Liv in full concentration mode while she took shots of a bronze cowboy statue. The cowboy had his head down and his foot forever pressed back against the wall, James Dean style. Liv had the tip of her tongue sticking out between her lips and had pulled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head—all business. She’d probably forgotten he was there, which was just fine by him. He didn’t mind playing audience. But the location had him on edge.
He couldn’t help scanning the perimeter regularly. The art park was spread across an open stretch of land hemmed in by forest area on two sides. A running path wound along the edge of the trees and on the outskirts of the art displays. A few people milled about, and a group of runners looked to be gearing up for a race on the far side of the park. None of that should have concerned him. The neighborhood was fine. But if someone wanted a clear shot, they could just post themselves behind a tree and pick off people like in a video game. Of course, he didn’t expect anyone was out there to do it, but he couldn’t turn off the internal checklist he’d learned to perform at every public location. Plus, having Liv so oblivious to her surroundings made him extra vigilant.
