That crease was back between Finn’s eyebrows, and he pushed off the counter and stepped toward Jaime. “He told you that you are too much of a burden to be around anymore?”
Jaime could barely make out the words through the rumble in Finn’s voice. “Well, no. Not in so many words. But it was hard at first. I had to stop working, because…” He shook his head. “I wasn’t painting anymore, and with bills and groceries and everything, my savings went quickly. I bought the house outright before, so no mortgage, but Sam helped me out so much with the lawyer and everything else, I know supporting me like that takes a toll. Things should be better after the trial.”
I hope.
Finn’s features softened. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up like that.”
He took another step toward Jaime, standing just an arms length away now, hands at his side. Jaime had to look up to meet his eyes, noticing little flecks of gold in the chocolate brown color. “I did not think you were an idiot this morning, nor have I ever thought that. And I do not think you are weak. I think you witnessed and experienced something horrible, and have been forced to put your life on hold for an entire year because of the threat it poses to you. There is no weakness in enduring that, Jaime.”
His breath caught, and he had to look away or else Finn would see him blinking back tears. “Thank you.”
Clearing his throat, Jaime stepped back. “So, unless you want me to up my usual order of frozen pot pies, write down your grocery list and I’ll make an order for pickup this afternoon.”
Finn stepped back too, seeming to realize how close they’d drifted, but his voice was still gravelly. “How about I cook enough for the both of us while I’m here, yeah? You can’t live off of frozen meals indefinitely.”
Jaime laughed. It was brief, but real, and made him feel lighter than he had in a very long time. “You certainly can, big boy. But I won’t turn down your offer.”
Their eyes connected, and electricity zipped between them as he realized what he’d said.
Oh God, big boy? Really?
Before Jaime could stop himself, his gaze skated downward at the implication, eyes widening at the prominent swell in Finn’s pants. He shifted so the counter would cover his own lower half, because the blood that had previously flushed his face had descended elsewhere at his choice of words and the visual evidence of just how true they were.
Jaime coughed through the croak in his voice. “Cooking. I won’t turn down your cooking. Just tell me to do whatever you want, and I’ll do it. Order! Tell me what groceries to order, and I will.”
Wishing a sinkhole would open up and swallow him whole, Jaime looked anywhere else but at Finn, waiting for him to scoff and make fun of his rambling or tell him this wasn’t going to work, and to look for the sexual harassment complaint in the mail.
Instead, Finn rumbled, “Alright Jaime, I’ll tell you what I want.”
It sounded like he had a bit in his mouth, his voice low and choked. When Jaime focused back on his face he sucked in a sharp breath at how dark Finn’s eyes were—pupils so dilated they nearly eclipsed his irises.
So, relationship with Silas or no, Finn looked like he was aware of, and maybe shared, the attraction that charged the air around them.
A complete, and total disaster, indeed.
Chapter 8
Finn
Finn was so fucked.
It had been years since he’d struggled to keep a lid on his shift, and it had never been the scent of someone’s arousal that caused him difficulty. Usually, Finn’s wolf only wanted to come out when he was angry, or when it was time to fight.
But the scent of Jaime’s desire had been strong since they’d walked into the kitchen, and at his suggestion ofdoing whatever Finn told him to, his fangs descended from his gums and dark talons now tipped his fingers, his wolf ready totake.
Ours.
He’s ours.
Finn chose not to look too hard at that right now.
Fighting back his shift, and the urge to bend Jaime over the counter and show him exactly how skilled he was in the kitchen, he grasped for a thread of self control. “Where would you like me to set up my laptop? I’ll write the grocery list, and then work on the tech report before we go pick them up.”
His question sounded choked through his fangs, and Jaime was still looking at him like a rabbit caught in a trap—but he didn’t scent fear. No, the only thing he detected wasoverwhelming want. When Jaime turned, Finn caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants as he walked to a small table and found a notepad and pen.
Professional. You are a professional, and this is your client. He didn’t ask you back into his life. You’re a goddamn wolf and instead of finding a way to gently tell him that, he’s going to figure it out in a few seconds when he sees the fangs you’re sporting, you animal.
That thought slammed into him. Not the fangs, but that he’d skipped right overifand went straight towhenin reference to telling Jaime about his shift.
