“It’s not been charged, so you’ll have to stick close to an outlet this evening. One hour,” I remind him.
That’s all it takes for him to disappear back into his designated bedroom.
Now I can focus on the man in the living room.
“Have you lost your mind?” I snap as I get closer to him, feeling like I’m losing a little of mine, being this close to him without him wearing a damn shirt.
“I was just asking myself that very same question,” he says.
“You can’t run around here naked, Finnegan.”
“Finn,” he corrects. “My friends call me Finn.”
I realize exactly where Kason got it from when I cross my arms over my chest and scowl at him. “I haven’t decided whether we’re friends.”
“You’re living in my home. I figured we should at least be friends.”
“Friends don’t talk to a friend’s mouth instead of looking them in the eyes,” I snap.
“I can’t help that you’re so cute when you get all snarly.”
“Friends don’t flirt either,” I hiss. “You have to dress more appropriately in front of my kids.”
I wave a hand up and down the length of him, indicating the problem.
Gray sweats are fucking dangerous because my eyes follow the wave of my arm. I look down. He looks down.
And yep, right there.
“See?” I snap before lowering my voice to a whisper. “That’s the outline of your—”
“Cock,” he finishes because I just can’t seem to get the word out.
The appendage in question jerks right before my eyes.
“Staring at it doesn’t help the situation,” he says, his accent deep, and if I’m not mistaken… inviting. “Stop. Staring.”
“What?” I jerk my gaze back up to his.
“Stop looking at it.”
I can’t help but drop my gaze again. The man is working with some seriously heavy-duty equipment.
Finnegan chuckles, a low, husky sound that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end, and not in a bad way either.
Right before my eyes and without a single touch of physical motivation, the damn thing continues to grow.
As if needing to accommodate himself more, he spreads his legs a little further apart, and all it does is tighten the fabric stretched across his groin.
It snaps me out of the dick trance I was in. I back away from him because the several feet between us doesn’t seem like enough room to escape whatever orbit of his I ended up in.
“You need to wear more clothes,” I hiss before turning back around and walking toward the bedroom I selected.
“I’ll grab some socks,” he says to my back. “My feet are cold.”
Chapter 12
Finnegan
Nothing could prepare me for the terror I wake up to, and that’s saying a lot because I’ve been in some pretty hairy situations in my life.
First, it’s the screeching that hits my ears. Loud banging, the sound I imagine a bulldozer would make if it were plowing through the building, is what gets me out of bed. My heart is pounding, not knowing what I’m going to find going on in my condo. I’m moving so quickly I nearly fall on my face, trying to shove my legs into a pair of jeans, because despite giving Kendall a hard time—pun intended—last night, I’m not going to walk around the house in sweats, shirtless, anymore. I don’t get to dictate what’s appropriate or not for her kids. She’s driving the bus on that.
I realize she’s also driving the crazy train when I step out of my room, pulling my t-shirt over my head.
The youngest boy is screaming his head off as he chases his sister down the hallway, holding a plastic dinosaur over his head. I’d give him kudos for the lifelike sounding noises he’s making, but the screech is so loud, a headache is already threatening at my temples. That and he’s moving remarkably fast for a kid with such short legs.
Kendall is concerned about my state of dress, and I mostly understand her reasoning, but this kid is running around in superhero briefs and nothing else.
I would argue the unfairness of the situation, but she looks like she’s about to lose her mind when I step into the kitchen. She’s dressed in a baggy t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts. It takes more effort than I’d like to admit to pull my gaze from her exposed legs and back where it belongs.
“That kid is naked,” I say, indicating the one that has his sister pinned in a corner of the living room.
“That’s Knox,” she mutters.
“Knox is naked.”
“Again?” she hisses, dropping the toast in her hand to the counter instead of on the plate a mere six inches away.
Kendall rushes past me into the living room.
“Go get dressed for school.” Her voice is low, carrying the threat of punishment moms are so damn good at. She doesn’t even have to say or else for the kid to drop the dinosaur—right on the carpet at his feet—instead of carrying it back to his room with him.