Chapter 15

Fifteen

Aria

F inn was an adult. He could take care of himself, but he’d asked me to come over tonight and keep him company. So I made some soup to keep myself busy in the afternoon. When it was finished, I took the pot over to Finn’s house. I knocked on the door, wondering if he’d be able to answer it.

He opened the door, wearing worn pajama pants that hung low on his hips and nothing else. He rubbed a small hand towel through his damp hair, and droplets clung to his chest as if he hadn’t dried off completely before I rang the doorbell.

“You were able to shower?” I croaked, my face hot and my skin tingling all over as I stepped inside, trying not to brush against his bare chest.

He smiled, and it made him look younger. “I feel like a new man.”

I set the pot on the counter, my hands trembling as I avoided looking directly at him. He was like the sun, and if I looked at him too long, he’d burn me. “How are you feeling?”

“My throat is still a little sore, and I’m achy when I don’t keep up with the painkillers, but I’m feeling a little less tired.” His voice had a scratchy quality to it that only made him sound sexy.

“That’s good.” I should have told him he didn’t need me, but I couldn’t seem to make my mouth say the words or my feet move in the direction of the door.

He dropped his hands, the towel hanging from one. “You made soup?”

“Yeah, it’s what my mom always did for us when we were sick. I asked her for the recipe. It was easy to make,” I said, rambling.

He cleared his throat. “No one’s ever made me soup before.”

“Even when you were sick?” I asked, forgetting not to look at him, my breath catching as I took in his hard pecs, defined abs, and the happy trail of hair that pointed downward. Was that a bulge in his pants? Was he wearing anything underneath?

Then it occurred to me. He was damp when I came in and probably had just thrown on his pajama bottoms to answer the door. My heart beat rapidly in my chest as my breaths came in short bursts.

“My parents were too wrapped up in whatever drama was going on in their lives at the time to worry about us being sick. I had my sister, but she’s younger than me and not the best cook.”

I laughed, hoping he didn’t know what I’d been thinking about: him naked in the shower.

He turned and walked toward the steps. “Can you pour some of that into a bowl? I’m just going to finish drying off.”

“You do that.” Now I sounded like an idiot, and when he turned around, all I could see was a toned back. His large shoulders sloped inward to a trim waist, and his pants clung to a perfectly round ass. There were miles of tan skin on display, and I was dying to know if it was as soft as it looked, stretched taut over those muscles.

My one regret from our night together was I hadn’t seen any part of him naked. He’d merely dropped his pants enough to fuck me. I hadn’t explored his body or even seen the hard planes. I felt a little robbed, especially since I had no intention of doing it again.

I tipped my head back. He was sick, and he was my coworker. He was off-limits. Forbidden. Nothing could happen between us.

But the usual cautionary words weren’t doing anything to stop the hum beneath my skin. I needed bowls. Spoons. Napkins. I busied myself in the kitchen, trying to locate everything in his cupboards, frequently finding myself staring at nothing when I opened a door. My mind was on his chest, that back, and licking the droplets off his skin.

“The bowls are above the dishwasher.”

I looked at him over my shoulder, disappointed to find him wearing a shirt. “Of course. I don’t know why I didn’t look there first.” To be fair, I’d opened every cupboard but hadn’t seen what was in any of them.

I grabbed the bowls and quickly located the spoons while he plucked a few napkins out of the holder on the counter. “You want to eat in the living room? I thought we could watch a movie or something.”

This was my opportunity to make an excuse and head out, but instead, my lips pressed tightly together as I ladled out the soup for both of us. I wasn’t sure I could eat, but my body seemed to have a mind of its own.

I was busy arguing with myself in my head about what an idiot I was to stay and how I should leave when Finn touched my arm, and my thoughts scattered, ping-ponging through my head.

“I can carry mine to the living room.” He released my arm and grabbed his bowl.

“Thanks,” I said simply as my eyes met his amused ones. Did he know his effect on me? That I was missing the sight of his naked chest? That I wanted to feel the heat of his skin against mine? That my one regret was that we hadn’t had more time to explore each other’s bodies the other night?

I felt oddly bereft as he headed into the living room. I grabbed my bowl and the water bottles I saw earlier this morning from the fridge and joined him.

I balanced the bowl on my thighs as Finn relaxed on the couch and flipped on the TV.

“What do you feel like? Mystery, action, suspense, romance?”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me. I don’t watch much television.”

“What’s this?” Finn asked as he set the remote aside and picked up a sketch pad that was left on the coffee table.

“I brought that for Paisley last night. It’s a tracing book.”

Finn flipped through the pages. I hadn’t realized Paisley traced so many things last night. It was filled with her drawings.

“She used it to copy the covers of her books.”

“These are cool. Thank you for showing her your art.”

I shrugged again. “It was no big deal.”

“I’d say it was if you don’t show it to anyone else. It’s good for Paisley to see other people’s talents. I worry she thinks she’s supposed to be musical because of me.”

“That’s not how it works. No one in my family is an artist. My parents always joked that I was an anomaly.”

Finn gave me a look. “Did that make you feel out of place?”

“As a kid, it did. Not so much anymore.”

He set the book down, kicked up his feet, and winked at me. “Let’s see what we can find.”

Finn was supposed to be sick. I thought it would be safe to be here. He’d be weak and tired, and I could easily resist him. But Finn was a little more put together than I’d anticipated. He was recovering, and I was quickly losing my advantage. I had one more night before I needed to be serious about keeping my distance. It wasn’t a good idea to be alone with him.

Finn grabbed his bowl and slowly spooned the broth into his mouth as he surfed through the streaming options. “Are you going to eat that before it gets cold?”

My pulse picked up at his gentle prodding. He was paying closer attention to me than I thought. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect. Just what I needed.”

I smiled and tried some of the soup. It was close to what my mom made.

Finn set the bowl aside and patted his stomach. “Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome.” I’d say it was what any friend would do, but I’d never made soup for anyone else or stayed to take care of them overnight, much less taken their child to school the next morning. I was out of my depth in this situation, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold on.

“Is this okay?” He’d settled on a new kids’ movie. “I’ve heard it’s fantastic. Just don’t tell Paisley I watched it without her.”

“Of course.” I finished the last spoonful of soup and carried the bowls to the kitchen. As I rinsed them off and set them in the dishwasher, I felt an odd sort of contentment settle in my chest. It was nice being with him here like this. I enjoyed his company.

He waited until I was seated next to him on the couch before he clicked play on the movie. After a few seconds, he gave me a throw blanket that had been on a nearby chair, and I spread it over my lap. His arm draped over the back of the couch, his fingers perilously close to my hair.

I barely breathed for a few minutes. I was so aware of him, his fresh scent of soap, and the memory of his bare skin.

He was sick, and I was playing nursemaid. That was all this was. It wasn’t the beginning of a relationship, not when he didn’t believe in those.

The couch dipped in Finn’s direction, and I found myself leaning against him. I should have pulled away, but it felt too good to be near him. I soaked in his warmth and resisted the urge to rest my head on his chest.

I could barely watch the movie or laugh in any of the right places because my head was all over the place. I remembered the feel of him inside me, the press of my back against the bar wall. Then I’d get a flash of his naked chest and the enticing droplets the shower left on his skin.

I wouldn’t survive spending any more time alone with him.

Finn leaned over to whisper. “Relax. You’re not on duty tonight. We’re hanging out as friends.”

I tried to relax. I forced each muscle to release and settle, but all it did was press me closer to Finn and his alluring body.

When Finn’s chest rumbled with laughter, I settled deeper against him. When my eyelids felt heavy, I gave in and rested my head on his shoulder. It felt too good, and I was too tired to resist.

At some point, I felt like I was flying through the air as my brain registered that he was carrying me up the stairs and into the guest room I’d stayed in last night. He set me carefully on the bedspread, and he kissed my forehead.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

“This is a two-way street. Sleep.” He kissed me one more time before I drifted off again.

The next morning, I woke to light streaming through the windows. Finn hadn’t closed the curtains, so I was getting the full blast of the sun. I stretched my sore muscles, wondering why I’d let myself get so comfortable with Finn that I fell asleep on top of him and let him carry me to bed. He was the one who was weak with an illness. He shouldn’t have been caring for me.

Feeling guilty, I washed my face, finger-combed my hair, and used the spare toothbrush I’d found last night under the sink. As fresh as I could make myself, I headed downstairs, intending to leave as soon as I could sneak out. But Finn was at the counter, a bright smile on his face.

“Feeling better?” I asked, dismayed to find him bare-chested again.

“I feel like a new man. Even my throat is better.” He scratched his chest, drawing my attention to it.

I licked my suddenly dry lips.

“I made some coffee and was thinking about eggs. Would you like some?”

I shouldn’t. I needed to get out of here, where everything smelled like Finn. “We have a wedding today.”

“Well, not ours, but a wedding,” Finn teased.

My face heated. “That’s what I meant.”

“Coffee?” he asked, his smile warm and his eyes knowing.

“Yes, please.” I needed to get my wits about me. I wouldn’t be able to resist a healthy Finn. I couldn’t think about that night at the rooftop bar. Finn was my one weakness, like chocolate or ice cream, and I needed to avoid him.

He grabbed two mugs from his cupboard and poured the coffee. “Cream or sugar?”

“Just cream if you have it.”

“Ireland likes the frou-frou stuff, so I keep it stocked for her.”

“That’s good for me,” I said softly as he poured the creamer into my coffee and pushed it across the counter toward me. It was a good reminder that we still had Ireland to think about.

He rubbed his hands together as I cradled the still-warm mug. “Now, what do you say about eggs?”

“I wouldn’t turn them down.”

He gave me a crooked smile before grabbing the egg carton from the fridge, along with veggies and cheese. “Is there anything you don’t like in an omelet?”

“Nope. I’m easy.”

He smiled wider as he cracked the eggs into a large bowl. “That’s good to know.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said lamely.

He winked. “Don’t worry. I knew what you meant.”

My skin heated at his wink. I dropped my gaze from his only to be confronted with his chest again. Why did he have to walk around shirtless? Was it to drive me crazy?

There was a light dusting of sandy blond hair, lighter than the hair on his head. I wanted to reach out and touch it, to feel every dip and valley of his skin. I was obviously losing my mind. Ripping my gaze from the view, I vowed to leave as soon as breakfast was finished.

I got up to check my phone that I’d left in my purse last night. I hadn’t even brought it with me to watch TV. There was one message from Ireland.

Ireland:

How’s Finn?

Guilt filled my gut.

Aria:

He’s all better. Coming home soon.

Ireland:

Want to ride to the wedding together?

Aria:

Sounds good.

Finn pointed his spatula at my phone. “Is that my sister?”

“How’d you guess?” I asked as I sat on the stool again.

“You had that look on your face. The one you get when you’re about to tell me we can’t pursue whatever this is between us.” He moved the spatula back and forth.

“I wasn’t going to do that,” I protested as I sipped my coffee.

He raised a brow at me before turning his attention to the stove, where the onions were sizzling. “I know I’m so irresistible that you have to keep reminding yourself of all the reasons we can’t be together.”

He wasn’t being serious, so I didn’t bother engaging with him. He was the one who didn’t want a relationship. That was the main reason we couldn’t do anything more. Sleeping with him was a mistake. It made me long for things I couldn’t have. If we did it again, I was the one who was bound to get hurt. I wasn’t built for one-night stands or meaningless flings.

“Stop thinking so hard for once. Just let go and feel.”

If I let myself feel, I’d want to drag him back up to his bedroom and spend some time with his body. I’d explore it with my hands and my mouth until I knew his landscape by heart. Then visions of me riding him, his hands gripping my hips, flashed through my mind, making me heat all over again. I couldn’t even let myself think about him cupping my breasts or sliding one nipple into his mouth.

I needed to focus on Paisley, Ireland, and the job I so desperately needed to keep, and not on his six-pack abs or hard chest. Finn wasn’t good for me.