Striding across the room, he was in front of me in seconds. I’d backed up until I was flush with the wall, with nowhere further to retreat, and he immediately caged me in with his arms.
“Let’s get something straight,” he whispered, tone dark with something possessive and slightly scary. “We arenotjust friends. We have never and will neverbe just friends. So stop twisting this around in that head of yours and making it into something it’s not.”
“You said nothing had to change,” I said defiantly, unwilling to accept his words.
“I’ve always wanted to fuck you. You’ve always wanted to fuck me. Nothing’s changed as far as I can tell,” he said, a smug smile crossing his face.
“I don’t want to fuck you! You are the cockiest, most conceited, arrogant asshole I’ve ever met. I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man left on earth and we weresinglehandedly responsible for repopulating the plan—” My tirade was abruptly cut off as his mouth descended on mine.
I responded to his kiss instantly, eagerly, in complete contradictionto my words.
Fuck! What was I doing?
Ireeled back and before I could stop myself, my hand shot out and slapped him across the face. I froze, stunned at my own actions. It was like my hand had acted independently of my brain. My face was a mask of shock, my eyes saucer-wide as I stared at the blooming crimson mark on his cheekbone. I hadn’t intended to hit him; I’d just been so desperate to put a stop to the kiss – to take back some control.
Breathing hard, I was still mere inches from Finn’s face. He looked equally surprised, but his face quickly morphed into something darker. “Just for that, I’m going to make you beg for it before I’ll kiss you again,” he vowed, rubbing a hand back and forth along his cheek.
“You’re going to be waiting forever.”
“I’ve heard that before,” he said, a small smile turning up the corner of his mouth. I suddenly remembered another conversation we’d had, after he’d saved me from Gordon, when I’d told him he’d be waiting forever for answers about my past. He’d simply looked over at me and whispered,‘I’ve already been waiting my whole life.’
I still didn’t know what that meant.
“I’m sorry I slapped you,” I murmured, lifting a hand to trace the red splotch on his cheek. His hand came up to cover mine, holding it gently against his face. “I really am emotionally-challenged sometimes,” I reluctantly admitted.
“Sometimes?” Finn lifted a skeptical eyebrow at me.
“Okay, fine, all the time,” I grumbled. “Can we paint now?”
“Sure,” he agreed, stepping out of my space. As I walked around him to reach the desk, I lifted up on my tiptoes and uncharacteristically pressed a soft kiss to the angry red handprint on his cheek. I felt him smile as I pulled away and began tugging on the desk.
Thankfully,Finn was a lot stronger than me, and he made quick work of moving all my furniture out into the hall. My bed was too big to move, so we pushed it into the middle of the room, stripped it of its bedding, and spread one of the drop cloths Finn had brought over it. He’d also brought over several rollers, white primer, painting tape, and white coveralls that he insisted we both put on.
“You can’t paint in that,” he said, indicating my red v-neck and capris. I’d already traded my wedges in for a pair of ratty old tennis shoes.
“Fine,” I said, grabbing the coveralls, a tank top, and cotton shorts before heading into the bathroom to change. After slipping on the tank and shorts, I stepped into the massive white suit. It had been designed for an adult male, and it was ridiculously large on my small frame. The sheer amount of fabric dwarfed me, with at least a foot of extra material hanging down past each hand and gathering over my feet. I haphazardly pushed up the sleeves and struggled to zip up the front of the coveralls. As soon as my hands fell to my sides, the extra fabric tumbled back down and covered my hands.
This was useless; I wouldn’t be able to maneuver my arms, let alone paint an entire bedroom.I trudged back out into the bedroom, concentrating on not tripping over the extra material around my feet. Hearing the sound of Finn’s choked laughter, I drew to a stop and slumped my shoulders.
“This isn’t going to work,”I said, windmilling my fabric-swathed arms in circles in the air. “I look like an idiot.”
“You’re adorable,”Finn said, a soft look in his eyes as he took in the sight of me swallowed up by the enormous coveralls. “Come here,” he whispered, crooking a finger to beckon me over to him.
Crossing the room, Istumbled on the bunched fabric and fell forward. Finn’s arms shot out and he caught me before I hit the ground, steadying me with his large hands resting on my shoulders.
“Let’s fix you,” he said,squatting down in front of me and deftly rolling each long pant leg into a cuff I wouldn’t trip over. He repeated this with the extra material of each sleeve, making sure I had full range of motion before releasing me. A funny feeling built in my chest as he adjusted my sleeves so painstakingly. There was something intimate about him dressing me, something that went beyondjust friendsor evenfriends with benefits.I looked down at the top of his head and realized something that floored me.
Finnreally cared about me.
Not just in friendly way, or anI’d-like-to-know-what-color-your-panties-areway. He actually cared.
And it didn’t feel impossible, or ridiculous, or even terrifying.To be honest, it felt pretty damn nice.
Chapter Ten
Finger Painting
We painted.