Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
“You always this dedicated?” I ask, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in my chest.
“Only when it matters,” she says softly, her gaze meeting mine.
The air between us shifts, the silence stretching out like a taut wire. I take a step closer, the distance between us shrinking until I can see the flecks of soil on her hands, the way her breath catches as I reach out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face.
“Tessa,” I murmur, my voice rough.
She doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away, and for a heartbeat, we’re suspended in that moment, the weight of everything unspoken pressing down on us.
And then I kiss her.
It’s slow at first, a tentative brush of lips that quickly deepens into something raw and consuming. She tastes like coffee and something sweet, and I can feel her hands trembling slightly as they press against my chest.
I pull back just enough to meet her gaze, my thumb brushing against her jaw. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”
Tessa blinks, her lips parted as she tries to catch her breath. “Me? Dangerous? You’re the one barging in here with all this intensity.”
I smirk, leaning in to trail a line of kisses along her jaw. “You bring it out in me.”
Her laughter is soft, breathless, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
“I’ve been wanting to do that again since you got me all wet in the yard,” I admit. Then, before I can stop myself, I scoop her up, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the old couch in the corner. She gasps, her fingers tangling in my hair as I settle her onto the cushions, my hands trailing over the curves of her hips.
“Finn,” she whispers, her voice trembling with something between desire and disbelief.
I pause, my forehead resting against hers. “Say the word, Tessa. Tell me to stop, and I will.”
She hesitates, her fingers curling against the back of my neck. And then she shakes her head, her voice steady. “Don’t stop.”
The words ignite something in me, a fire that’s been smoldering for too long. I kiss her again, my hands mapping every inch of her as the world outside fades into nothing. I savor the taste of her lips, the feel of her soft skin under my hands. And then I pull back, breathless and mind reeling.
“We should stop before this gets out of hand–I don’t trust myself with you, Tessa,” I admit.
Her round eyes catch mine, something like yearning settling in her pretty irises. For the first time in years, I feel alive. Completely alive. And it’s all because of her.
Chapter Nine
Tessa
The rhythmic thud of Finn’s hammer echoes across the clearing, mingling with the chirp of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. I stand at the edge of his yard, arms crossed and smirking as I watch him work. His shirt is off—of course it is—and the sunlight highlights every ripple of muscle as he lifts the hammer high and brings it down with precision. Sweat glistens on his skin, and Shep, ever his loyal shadow, lounges nearby with his tongue lolling out.
“You know,” I say, breaking the quiet, “if you’re trying to distract me with gratuitous displays of masculinity, it’s working.”
Finn doesn’t look up, but I see the corner of his mouth twitch. “You talk a lot for someone who begged me to fix what Shep wrecked.”
“I didn’t beg,” I counter, stepping closer. “I might have suggested. Strongly.”
“Is that what you call storming into my cabin and threatening to withhold brownies?” He drives the nail in with one final strike and finally meets my gaze, his green eyes alight with amusement. “Admit it, woman. You can’t resist me.”
“Resist?” I scoff, leaning against a nearby post. “I’m just here to supervise. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t turn my flowerbed into a raised coffin.”
Finn chuckles, low and warm, the sound rolling over me like a lazy river. “Trust me, sunshine, when I build something, it lasts.”
The innuendo isn’t lost on me, and heat blooms in my chest. I narrow my eyes, determined not to let him see how easily he gets to me. “Is that so? Because your dog seems to specialize in destruction.”
“Shep’s got taste,” Finn says, setting his hammer down and reaching for a bottle of water. “He only ruins the good stuff.”
“Like my marigolds and daisies?”
“Exactly.” He takes a long drink, his throat working with each swallow, and I force myself to look away before I start imagining things I shouldn’t. His hands on my skin. His lips…everywhere.
By the time Finn is finished, the flowerbed is a masterpiece. The rich wood gleams in the sunlight, perfectly framed and ready for planting. I can’t help but run my fingers over the smooth edge, marveling at the craftsmanship.
“Okay,” I admit grudgingly, “it’s... beautiful.”