He smirked, all male confidence. “Now whose mind is in the gutter? And yes on both. I’m a pro at handling myself. PhD level, in fact.”
She pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth. “Okay, we need to stop.”
“What?” he asked, eyes sparkling with humor. “Making embarrassing admissions?”
“No, making…hot admissions. That’s too much information.” Her gaze tracked down his body of its own volition, and she forced her attention away. “You said no lust. Talking about how you use your hands is not an effective strategy for that.”
Lust. Like what was building up in her right now. Not just at the images he’d ruthlessly painted in her head—him going up to the house, slipping out of his clothes, and curling that strong hand around himself, stroking and taking his time, maybe thinking of her. Even more distracting was hearing him tell her that she hit his buttons, that she’d always done it for him. That something specific about her made Mr. Cool-and-in-Control slip up. She’d had guys tell her she was pretty or sexy or whatever, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard something so…specifically personal.
She knew what he meant, though, because it was the same for her. Her reaction to him had always been visceral, an awareness that even in light moments forever hummed beneath the surface. Like power lines linked directly to her libido. She fought the urge to step into his space, to inhale how the smoke from the fire mixed with his scent, to feel the heat of him against her again. To offer to take care of any erect situations herself.
“Right, sorry,” he said, his tone gruff. “This was probably safer via text. We can’t let joking turn into more than it is.”
“Because that would be stupid,” she said, annoyed at how breathless the words came out.
“Yes.”
He held her gaze for a beat too long, as if he could see her thoughts. Heat crept up her neck, but then he rubbed his hands on his jeans. “It’s getting late. We should probably head back up to the house.”
She nodded, mouth dry. “Sure. Good idea.”
Without another word, he moved toward the fire, dousing it and tossing their trash into the grocery bag he’d hooked on the back of one of the chairs. She followed behind him, picking up what she could, but mostly watching him, her thoughts chasing each other around her head like angry cats.
Or horny cats.
She was here for a break. She was here to do photography. She was here to help Finn acclimate back to normal life. She was not here to get naked with him.
Naked.
Well, that wo
rd was the wrong one for her to think, because now she was watching how his pants slipped low in the back every time he bent to pick up a beer bottle, revealing the dips below his spine and the top curve of what was sure to be a muscular ass. She wet her lips, feeling like a pervert for ogling him, but she didn’t look away.
What would happen if she walked over to him, put her hands on that exposed skin, and slid her palms underneath his T-shirt? Would he jump away? Would he lecture her about lust? Or would he let her slip his shirt off and touch her, too?
The image was almost too much, and a little grunt passed her lips.
Finn peered back over his shoulder. “You say something?”
“Uh, no.”
He gave her an odd look. “If you want to go on to the guesthouse, you can. I can finish cleaning up.”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind helping,” she said, snapping out of her frozen state and emptying another cup of water onto the fire to make sure it was fully extinguished. She imagined that the ensuing sizzle was what her thoughts needed. Something cold and wet thrown on them.
Wet. Another word that bounded down the wrong path. Her body was more than ready for all that lust they were purposely ignoring. She stepped a little closer to him, like iron drawn by a magnetic pull. She could feel dangerous words—propositions—hovering on her lips. Recklessness welled in her, but then her foot kicked one of the empty bottles.
Alcohol. Her personal invitation to bad decisions. She hadn’t had much tonight, but it was there, her old familiar pattern. Feel stressed. Drink. Get in bed with someone.
Only this someone wasn’t a stranger. And there wouldn’t be an anonymous thanks for a great night, see you in the next life in the morning. This was Finn.
She closed her eyes, inhaling a deep breath.
“Hey, you okay?”
Liv’s eyes popped open to find Finn standing too close, his body heat wafting her way. He put his hand on her shoulder, and everything inside her went molten and wanting. Kiss me.
No. She needed to get to bed. Or into a cold shower. She was not going to act like that girl she used to be. She was not going to mess this situation up before it started.