“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.