Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

T essa

The shrill beep of my phone jolts me awake, and I groggily fumble for it on the nightstand. It takes a moment for the words on the screen to register— Flood detected in basement.

Panic grips me as I throw back the covers and rush downstairs. My feet slap against the wooden stairs as I take them two at a time, the sound of rushing water growing louder with each step.

“Oh, no. No, no, no.”

The sight that greets me is nothing short of devastation. Water is pooling around my plants, drowning the delicate greenery I’ve spent so much time nurturing. My tiny indoor greenhouse—my sanctuary—is under siege.

I race to the far corner where the water valve is, but it’s jammed tight. The wrench I left nearby does nothing to budge it. Tears sting my eyes as I yank at the handle in vain, my hands slipping on the slick metal.

With shaking hands, I grab my phone again and scroll to the one name I swore I wouldn’t call unless it was an absolute emergency. Finn Taylor.

It rings twice before his gruff voice answers. “Tessa?”

“My basement’s flooding,” I blurt out, my voice shaky. “I don’t know what to do. The valve’s stuck, and my plants?—”

“I’m on my way.”

The line goes dead before I can respond, and for once, I’m thankful for Finn’s no-nonsense approach.

When Finn arrives minutes later, Shep is right at his heels, tail wagging despite the chaos. Finn doesn’t waste time on pleasantries. He assesses the scene with a quick, critical glance before shrugging off his jacket and stepping into the water like it’s no big deal.

“Where’s the valve?” he asks, his voice steady and calm, grounding me in the chaos.

“In the corner, but it’s stuck,” I say, my voice trembling.

Finn nods and rolls up his sleeves, revealing forearms that shouldn’t be allowed to look that good. He strides to the valve, his boots splashing through the water, and grips the handle with one hand while steadying the pipe with the other.

I stand there, helpless and awestruck as he wrestles with the stubborn metal. His muscles strain, the veins in his arms standing out as he grunts with the effort. It’s distracting in a way I really shouldn’t be thinking about right now.

After a tense minute, there’s a creak and then a satisfying click as the valve finally gives way.

“Got it,” Finn says, straightening and wiping his hands on his jeans. He looks at me, his gaze softer than I expect. “You okay?”

I nod, though I’m not sure it’s true. “Thank you. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Good thing you called me, then.” There’s a hint of teasing in his tone, but it’s overshadowed by the way his eyes linger on mine.

We work together to salvage what we can, moving pots and plants to higher ground, mopping up water where it’s shallow enough. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable—it’s charged, thick with unspoken words and the hum of something I can’t quite name.

Finn picks up a potted fern, his hand brushing against mine as he hands it to me. The contact sends a jolt through me, and I nearly drop the plant.

“Careful,” he murmurs, his voice low. “Wouldn’t want to lose this one.”

I don’t think he’s talking about the fern.

By the time we’ve cleared most of the damage, my knees ache, and my hands are covered in dirt and grime. Finn leans against the wall, his shirt soaked through and clinging to his broad chest. He looks like he belongs here, like he was made for moments like this—steady, dependable, maddeningly handsome.

“Why do you even have this setup in your basement?” he asks, gesturing to the remnants of my greenhouse.

“It’s my escape,” I admit. “My way of bringing life into a world that feels... empty sometimes.”

Finn’s eyes narrow slightly, his expression softening. “You’re not empty, Tessa.”

The words hit me harder than they should, and I look away, focusing on the soil smeared across my hands. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s all ruined.”

“It’s not ruined,” Finn says, stepping closer. “It’s just a setback. You’ll rebuild it.”

His confidence in me, in my ability to fix this, makes my chest ache. I glance up at him, and the air between us shifts.

“Why do you do that?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Do what?”

“Say things that make me want to believe you.”

Finn doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches out and brushes a strand of hair from my face, his hand lingering against my cheek.

“Because I mean them,” he says simply.

I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly his mouth is on mine, and the world narrows to just this moment. His kiss is slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second. His hands find my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.

The smell of damp earth and flowers surrounds us, grounding me even as I feel like I’m floating. Finn kisses me like he’s claiming me, like he’s been waiting for this as long as I have.

When we finally break apart, he rests his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, echoing the words I’ve thought about him more than once.

I laugh softly, my fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “And you’re definitely Mr. Wrong.”

Finn grins, and it’s the first time I’ve seen it—the kind of smile that transforms his whole face, making him look younger, softer.

He kisses me again, deeper this time, and my knees go weak. Before I know it, my legs are hitched around his thighs, surrounded by the remnants of my greenhouse his palms press against my skin and light me on fire in ways I’ve never been lit before. It’s messy and imperfect, but it’s us, and it feels right.

I wrap my arms tightly around his neck, my body moving against his with a fierce intensity. My senses are heightened and I feel truly alive in this moment. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t longed for the moment when his body would be wrapped around mine. It’s a fantasy that’s been consuming me, closing my eyes at night and imagining his strong arms wrapped around me, possessing me with all the strength and energy he holds within himself.

His hands glide up my thighs, lifting my sleep shirt as anticipation courses through me. His deep voice breaks the silence of the room.

"You're so fucking beautiful, I'd fight to the death before letting any harm come to you," he murmurs, revealing my bare ass to the cool air.

My body trembles in frustration, craving more of him–his touch, his lips–anywhere and everywhere on me.

"Do you want me that badly, Tessa?" he teases, a playful smirk on his lips.

His thumbs trail across my ass cheeks, brushing against my hot, soaked pussy. The sensation only fuels my desire for him.

"Have you been waiting for this moment, sunshine?" he asks, his breath hot against my ear.

I nod against him, my lips trailing along his neck, at a loss for words in favor of all sensation.

With ragged breathing, he pulls my shirt over my head and it falls into the water at our feet in a whoosh of fabric. My panties quickly follow suit and I’m left pressed against him in nothing but my bra. My arousal pulses and surges between my legs as I wait for him to claim every inch of me.

My hips are bucking of their own accord, and with agonizing slowness, he trails sweet kisses down my neck and along my collarbone. He groans then, lifting me onto the counter where I pot my plants and then Finn's hot tongue is dragging up the slit of my soaked pussy. He flicks and drags his tongue across my hardened clit, as I clutch at the edge of the table. He continues to lick and dive with his tongue, swirling and then teasing with light nips and licks, pulling away just as I’m on the edge.

"Let me hear you. I want to know how it makes you feel to have my tongue in your hot pussy," he grunts, and his hands fist tighter, my hips pushing against his mouth, pleasure surging as he thrusts two fingers into my pussy and curls them, hitting a tight bundle of nerves deep inside that sends me groaning and moaning. I slump, my body lax and breathless, thighs shaking. "Not done yet, Princess."

He ushers me across the length of the table, pushing my hot skin against the cool worn wood and sending a thrill through me. He slips his palms down my back, sliding down my spine before smacking my ass playfully.

"Close your eyes," he orders, his eyes boring into mine, and I see the switch then.

"Yes..." I close my eyes and turn away from him. I wait, my breath slow and measured as goosebumps race across my skin. I wait and I fucking wait, every nerve in my body on edge, aware of every shift he makes, until finally his fingertips trace the curve of my ass, before both hands wrap around my wrists and I feel the rough pads of his fingers slipping against my skin.

My stomach curls and flips. He feels too good, it is all so overwhelming.

"Finn..." His name burns on my lips like fiery cinnamon drops.

“What?” he growls, his eyes darting to catch mine.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” I dread the words that hang on my lips. It's the wrong place, the wrong time, but I can't take it any longer.

“You don't have to tell me anything,” he tightens his grip on me, his throaty voice coming closer and abrading my nerves.

I wiggle and sigh, wanting desperately to get lost in this moment with him, but the guilt weighs me down, loading my feet with lead blocks that leave me stumbling and moving much too slowly for my own good.

“I'm—”

“Too good for me.” He pushes his zipper down, revealing the head of his thick cock. I groan, mouth watering as I reach out to stroke him. He husks, cock twitching with the physical contact before I press my tongue out and rim the ridge of his thickness.

My pussy clenches and my thighs shift. My body vibrates and hums with excitement.

“Jesus, my sweet girl, so sweet and perfect.” He groans and turns me in one quick move, pinning me beneath him with my wrists pulled taut and stretched above my head. With one hand wrapped at my waist, his head dips and his teeth pull the cup of my bra aside to bite at my aching nipple, tight and puckered from the cool air.

I arch and sigh, wrapping my legs around his waist and rubbing my body against his.

“How did I manage to stay away from you for so long?” he breathes out, his tongue playfully tracing over my nipple before pulling off his shirt. “You’re the neighbor-from-hell that’s been driving me insane and I can’t get enough.”

“Oh my God, and you’re Mr. Wrong...” I moan as I take in his chiseled form hovering above me, every muscle defined and rippling under the grow lights. A few strands of dark hair fall across his forehead, giving him a rugged appearance. “Finn...I've–I’ve never been with anyone before you.”