Nope. Not happening.
She knew of a great way to distract them both. Beah put her coffee cup on the table and slid her leg over his thighs and her arms around his neck. She looked at his mouth, dragged her fingertips through his soft beard. Sex they could do, and do well; talking was dangerous.
“I love your eyes,” Beah told him, admiring the darker green ring holding in that lighter shade.
Finn lifted an eyebrow and his hand rested on her bare thigh, sliding up and over her hip.
“I love all of you.”
Beah’s heart bounced off her rib cage and she quickly reminded herself he was talking about her body, cautioning herself not to read too much into his comment. She cursed herself for her earlier stupidity. She was not the same idealistic, unrealistic girl who’d married him so long ago.
Beah dropped her head to kiss the side of his mouth, to nibble on his jaw. This was not an emotional connection, a rejuvenation of a love affair.
They were work colleagues, two people who were attracted and were acting on their attraction.
Nothing more, nothing less. This was cut-and-dried, simple.
They. Were. Done.
But she needed to make sure they were on the same page, reading from the same book. “You mean you love what we do to each other, right?”
Finn just held her face in his hands, handed her an enigmatic smile and pulled her down to take her mouth in a fierce kiss.
It was only much, much later Beah remembered that he never answered her question.